Olenna Tryell

“I assure you that they are my number one priority.” Greydon nodded. “Everything else falls second.” As promised, he would protect them with his life. The honor and loyalty that he had towards the Tyrell family ran very very deep. 

“That is true. She is a force to be reckoned with. No one would go about ordering her around. Even if they did, it would only be because she permitted it so. Let them believe that they got what they wanted meanwhile she is pulling the strings.” Margaery was very good at getting what she wanted. 

“Good.” Olenna did not trust people, not even Greydon, wholly. She suspect he knew as much as she’d be disappointed if he didn’t. Her family were the only ones who had the privilege of her heart. Even if she respected and cared for the man, some things could not be forced.

“That is always he way of a smart woman. It was how I came to be the Lady of Highgarden” she said drolly, “I was never meant for the part originally. I was to be given to a Targaryen.” she rolled her eyes, “How ironic that family has now returned with dragons in tow. Still, I do not regret my choices, nor my skills which helped me make them.” Olenna smirked, “I’d have taught you those too, but you lack some of the necessary requirements.”  

Arya nodded her head, not really blaming the woman for keeping her better guards with her grandchildren. After all, family was the most important thing in the world. “It’s a smart idea to have some sort of plan in place in case something like that happens. But I don’t think anyone would be selfish enough to do that.” Even though she couldn’t help but agree with the older woman, if she was here to kill her, no one would see her coming, not even Olenna. “Do not worry, you’re not on my list.” She said with a smile.

She shrugged her shoulders. “The titled was given to me by someone else, because of who my family is, I never chose to have the title.” From a young age, Arya had been raised to be a lady, to accept the idea of wanting to marry a high lord, rule his castle and birth his heirs. Even though her sister was in love with the idea, Arya wasn’t and spent more of her time, when no one was watching, shooting arrows on the courtyard. Her father would watch her, many times, but he never said a word so she knew what she was doint wasn’t wrong, the rules were wrong. “I know who I am, doesn’t mean I enjoy the title.” She said simply. “I’m always up for a good sparring session, as long as my oponent doesn’t go easy on me. Some of the soldiers and squires were going easy, afraid they would hurt the King’s sister. As if they could even hit me.” She said with a smirk. “That does sound like a good way of going about things, ignoring men. They all think they are better than us, that they are smarter than us but we tend to outlive them.” 

“In this world, My Dear, plans are all we have, and even then the Seven may merely scoff at out attempts at order.” There was always a risk to any sort of machination, though Olenna had lived long enough to have a much better idea then most of how to ensure that such actions yielded fruitful results. For all she scoffed at her House’s words they bore much relevance to her and her kin. “Your list?” Olenna’s wizened brow rose with curiosity, “Now that sounds the beginning of an interesting tale.”

She raised her goblet to her lips and took a small sip of the wine, finest in the arbor, before answering, “But it is a weapon. One that must be used very differently to the sword at your hip but a weapon all the same, and only a fool disregards a weapon.” she instructed, leaning forward slightly on her chair, “Marriage, children, they’re all just weapons really, strike well and victory comes in the form of a comfortable life. If that is not what you desire then fuck it and use the title to be free; few would dare disregard the words and wishes of a Lady.” Olenna laughed, “Do seek my grandson out, The Knight of Flowers,” she scoffed at the pompous title, “Inform him his dear grandmother sent you with the express desire to spar and not hold back. He isn’t wise but he is very good with his sword, it may bring you some joy in all drudgery.” And if it strengthened the Stark girl’s ties to her family, well, that was just a happy side effect. “Oh yes. Look at your dear sister, such a timid thing when I met her in King’s landing yet she’s survived many foolish men.”

Theon’s eyes flashed angrily and he turned his tongue over to bite it between his teeth. It felt like a not so subtle threat, but he took it as well as the blunt ones the northerners growled at him in passing. If time and luck permits, you’ll be gone long before me you old hag…. He wanted to point out that Loras was old enough, and capable enough, to make his own choices but the knight was bound to the decisions of the head of his house, as were most that were born into such high inheritance.      

He breathed a sigh and turned towards his mare, hands gripping either side of her saddle as he heaved himself up and onto her back. “I intend to, though if your Grandson seeks me out I won’t turn him away.” He informed her, and specifically out of spite, worded it a way that could be interpreted as less than innocent. A soft click to his mare and she moved away, guiding him to the edge of the trees so he could be joined by solitude and silence.

Winding up younglings never ceased to amuse her, they were all so caught up in small matters like their next bed conquest or whatever battle was upon the horizon or who could drink the most ale, they never noticed the bigger plan until it was pointed out to them. And they grew angry so swiftly. Her two guards moved slightly, prepared to lunge forward as necessary though she knew it wouldn’t be needed.

“Oh don’t you worry yourself about that,” she chuckled, “Should such a thing happen he will answer appropriately.” And no harm may come of yet another of Loras’ little dalliances, but it was fun to put the fear of the seven into the little kraken, or perhaps it was wolf? Bah. In either case she chuckled once more and beckoned her two oafish guards to follow her as she moved towards her tent.  

she finds it far more awkward than she’d like,   faced once more with the familiar colors of house tyrell;   the daunting task of greeting a matriarch she is all but certain had pulled the strings of her life alongside cersei.       it made no matter that she hadn’t been cruel,   only that she had seen sansa as a pawn to be played and that enough had turned the taste in her mouth bitter.        fed ideals of a highgarden wedding,   of a handsome lord husband who’d love her without cruelty,   of a family that would ensure her safety   …   for nothing more than a gain of power,   of a way to play the entire field;   stark and lannister alike.      sansa could admire the cunning,   understand the webs woven and plans made;   that olenna had failed did little more than bolster the grin upon rose colored lips as she sauntered near where the older woman was seated. 

“     i do so hope you don’t mind my company,   lady olenna.    ”       she does not wait for an invitation to join her,   rather gathers her skirts and settles into the seat across the table without allowing for an answer.      confidence is a skill she has gained,   a voice that does not waiver as it once would have;   sansa has learned her lesson enough times over.       she is not afraid of much now,   and does not intend to ever be again.       “      it’s been far too long since we’ve spoke,   don’t you think?       after-all,   i don’t believe we’ve had words since the wedding.     ”         (   @strongestthorn   )

“Sansa Stark.” Olenna repeated, as though greeting an old friend. She supposed in a way they were, or as close to friends as women in their positions could be. “I take it lemon cakes won’t have you spilling your guts this time, hmm?” she asked with a raised brow, leaning forward slightly on her chair, wrinkled hands clasped in her lap. While the girl had been a much easier pawn once upon a time Olenna felt no animosity to her growth, quite the opposite, now they could talk as women. Women who knew that despite what one another may feel an alliance would be smart. After all, the Starks may have had an army but an army marched on its stomach, her land’s harvest was vital in this.  

Arya had been wondering through the camp for a while now, Nymeria behind her. She wanted to explore a little more, wanted to get familiar with not only her surroundings by also the people who were joining them from the South. And one of those people was Lady Olenna. Arya had hears a lot of the elder woman, how she was smart and full of experience when it comes to playing the game. Truth was, the outlived a lot of men who thought were smarter than everyone else. So Arya ordered Nymeria to remain outside as she easily managed to sneak into the tent that had been put up for Lady Olenna, looking around for a little while until the woman come walking through the entrance of the tent. 

Arya turned around with a smile on her face, hands behind her back. “Well, you should get better guards, it wasn’t too hard to sneak past them and get inside.” She said, shrugging her shoulders. After all that she heard about Lady Olenna, Arya thought that the woman was at least worth meeting. “Yes, I’m Arya Stark of Winterfell.” She answered the woman before turning around so that she was facing her, watching as she moved to sit down on a chair. “I’ve trained, I had to do it to survive. I’m not a lady, never was and never will be so I had to become something else.” She paused. “And I’ve heard you’re quite the smart woman, outlived most of the men who thought were smarter than you.” 

Olenna smirked, “I have better guards, they’re keeping eyes on my grandchildren.” she said plainly, settling into her seat, “If someone is foolish enough to try and take my life mid-journey then I have measures in place.” The safety and power of her family and then revenge. “But, you’re not here for that, if you were I doubt I’d have seen you at all,” she chuckled.

“Arya Stark of Winterfell,” Olenna repeated the words as if savouring them like a fine arbor wine, before nodding. “Yes, not a lady, yet given he title, called something else yet you just named yourself. An interesting contradiction no?” But a woman had the unique power to be as contrary she choose, Olenna employed it frequently. “I don’t suppose I could encourage you to spar with a grandson of mine and knock him to the dirt like the boring oaf he is?” she asked lightly, the thought of Arya besting Garlan was quite a fun prospect. “I am. And I have. Would you like to know how?” she paused before answering, “I ignored them. I suggest you do the same. Believe me, with the dead upon us many man shall think themselves clever.”

Theon’s jaw shifted, finding her more unpleasant the longer he was trapped in her company. Her question was a loaded one, another wishing to know where his loyalties lay when it was still as divided as the day he betrayed Robb and reluctantly took Winterfell in his father’s name. “I stand with my brother and our alliance with the Starks. It’s the King in the North that I fight for.” It was the best answer she was going to get, for if she tried to force out a final decision on which house his heart lay with, he would not offer it to her. He cared for both the Starks and Greyjoys, and if he could have it his way he would keep one foot in each.

Her bluntness sparked another wave of embarrassment, and he was beginning to hope for a way out of this conversation as she continued prodding him. His tongue came out to wet his lips as he shifted his weight, glancing at the ground to momentarily escape her watchful and calculating eyes. “I’m fond of him.” He admitted, but it was something she already knew, no doubt about that. “But I doubt he has interest in me. Now…if you’ll excuse me, there’s little light left in the day and I should make use of it.”

“What a wonderfully thought out answer.” Olenna smirked, knowing he wasn’t telling his whole story and making it abundantly clear she knew it as well. “You know, I had some awful communication with your Uncle some time back, he wanted to marry his boorish son into my house.” she paused and added, “Then he died mysteriously and the whole sordid attempt fell through.” Olenna let the words sink in, she’d had nothing to do with the death of course, but it was worth mentioning if only to further impact what she planned to say next, best to light a fire under this one as soon as possible.

“Sometimes a luck death can do wonders for much of the realm.” she said with a smirk, “Though I never rely on it.” She watched him for a few moments longer, “Loras has interest in almost anything with a cock between its legs, I suggest you engage yourself fully for the remaining daylight hours and the coming evening ones.” she deadpanned, “And if you’re truly lost borrow one of these oafs.” she added, thumbing at the two guards behind her.  

“Of course. You know I’m very capable of that.” Greydon was a master of secrecy, thanks to Lady Olenna herself. “I’ve been keeping an eye on as many people as I can. Mingling, figuring out motives of our traveling companions. Making mental notes of who we can trust and who we can’t.” 

“I suppose you would want advantageous matches that also would allow them the freedom they require. You and I both know Margaery wouldn’t handle well to being paired with a man to overlord over her.” 

“I do but that doesn’t mean the instruction isn’t worth reminding.” Olenna said with a raised brow, “Continue to do so but remember you’re a guardian to my grandchildren first and foremost. I can learn those matters myself but wielding a sword is somewhat more difficult.” Two decades ago she’d carried her own weapon.

Olenna smirked, “You need not worry about Margeary, whomsoever she takes as her husband will not have a subservient wife.” Her granddaughter would be running the household from the moment the ribbon was tied.

Another dreary day of movement through burnt land, if not for her recent stays in King’s Landing she may have found it too much; it turns out being forced to smell a place of shit for days on end made burnt fields and corpses (as she suspected their were) a great deal more bearable. Olenna had remained in her wheelhouse, guards standing outside while her tent was set up. Honestly the amount of hovering was grating upon her nerves; she wasn’t even walking yet several looked upon her as though she would become fatigued by association.

A pack of oafs in armour followed her to the mouth of her tent and she turned back and sent them running with little more than a look. She walked in with a sigh and stilled in surprise at the sight of a young woman standing there, “Well,” she deadpanned after a moment, “I wasn’t prepared to accept visitors but after hours within that damn wheelhouse you’re not necessarily an unwelcome surprise.” Olenna moved to a pitcher of wine and poured two glasses, “You’re the Stark girl aren’t you? Sansa’s sister?” she inquired moving to her chair and taking a seat, “I’ve heard you’re quite the capable warrior, how marvellous.” she smiled.

“Yes, my lady. I will make certain that it is done.” Greydon answered her. There was never a time where he turned down a command from her. “I assure you I am keeping my eye on anyone who approaches Margaery. No one gets too close without my say so.” They had to protect their precious Highgarden flower of course. The same went for Loras. But with that came more discretion. 

“Perhaps they have learned that simple pleasantries aren’t the way to win your affection.” Lady Olenna required much more than that. “Do you have matches in mind?” He asked, unable to mask his curiosity. 

“Good, and I would prefer you remain out of notice as you do so.” she told him, staring a few moments after she finished speaking. It was simply good practice to keep most communication as secretive as possible. “Good. Ensure it remains that way, with such a large party travelling together the tendency to mix is higher; I’d prefer we control when such mixing occurs.” Profitable meetings.

“Such a show of intelligence would all but shock me.” she told him dryly, “Some. The North’s power cannot be denied, as for the Targaryen Queen so long as she has those bloody dragons I suspect the power will lie with her. Frankly the Lannister’s have little left to offer us.”

He knew well enough who she was, and the reputation that proceeded her. He had always heard how direct the Queen of Thorns could be, and of course, being the head of her house and the grandmother of his newfound companion, she would demand a certain amount of respect from him. “Theon Greyjoy.” He answered, shuffling uncomfortably as she went on knowingly about his interest in the young knight. 

Like her, he cared little about what taboo surrounded two men pleasuring one another, for he’d done his fair share in whore houses in between the women he’d paid for. He wasn’t open about his lack of preference, but those that knew did not shame him for it. 

A brief moment of relief as her attention went to her guards who seemed equally as unsettled as Theon was, but it was short-live as she went right back to him. He was used to sly indirect remarks so her forwardness was stumping him, leaving him stunned in silence as she shot forward accusations that were not incorrect. “I don’t find him foolish at all…” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend Loras, but the words spilled out before he could stop them, and he cleared his throat softly before continuing. “We’re friends. Nothing more.”

“Greyjoy.” Olenna repeated the word with as much reverence as one would give to a pile of dog-shit. In the past the Ironborn had raided several areas of the Reach’s coast, stealing food, valuable trade items among other things. “I know of your people. But if my memory serves you are the boy Ned Stark stole away during that Baratheon oaf’s rebellion. Who do you side with now?”

The question was asked bluntly, as though she had little care of the answer. Olenna had more than enough influence to discern the truth herself but why bother when she could force it from the boy.

Olenna took more pleasure than she should’ve thoroughly schooling her two guards for the day but honestly there were so few joys to be found in life and their uncomfortable looks were more than enough to give her reason to smile later. “Then you are either pathetically attempting to win favour or a fool yourself.” she deadpanned, “Loras would be the first to tell you of his foolishness and what it cost our House.” she watched him, gaze never wavering, “I remain to be convinced on the matter.”    

With the long, long day behind him, Greydon was grateful to get off horseback and have a moment of rest. Well rest physically that is. He knew his day was far from over as he owed Olenna a visit and if history proved anything, she’d have work for him to do. Greydon bowed as he entered the tent, apologizing for his tardiness. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, my lady.” He sat down across from her, letting out a small sigh of relief to finally be off his feet. “Indeed. He doesn’t do much.” He agreed. “Although, it’s a nice break from the others who consistently keep me on my toes. Between Loras and Margaery alone I could break my neck having to keep eyes on them at the same time. Luckily, he had developed a way of having eyes in the back of his head. Not much got past him. 

“Has anyone come with a pathetic attempt to woo you yet?” Greydon asked, knowing that there were many on the march who would hope to be in Lady Olenna’s good graces. “If they haven’t I suspect it won’t be too far off. 

“Not as sorry as I am to have been kept waiting.” she told him wryly, rolling a small written note and trying it shut before adding it to a small pile on her writing desk, “See those are sent back to Highgarden, one to Oldtown, another to the Arbor and the final one to Ashford.” she informed him, a first order of business sorted before moving onto the next. It was a comfort to know Garlan was still as dull as ever at least. Given all the madness they were dealing with right now some things had to stay consistent. “Loras has always been that way, he’s given all who tried to keep him in check trouble, myself included.” she sighed, “And it is not Margeary I’m worried for so much as anything with a cock looking at her too long... actually that may as well apply to Loras too.”

She chuckled, “Oh, nothing as of yet. I suspect they’re taking the time to properly try and formulate a plan of seduction.” she told him wryly, “Once they’re all arrived my Grandchild shall have their pick of any match I desire for them.”

As the march slowed to a halt, Theon rode on from his lingering at the back to return to the sides of his men. The sharp contrasting black and gold of their sigil rose firmly over the space of their camp, and he dismounted only to retrieve his steel tipped arrows so that he might snag a rabbit or two to offer some much preferred fresh meat. 

It was when he was guiding his mare towards the edge of camp did the flash of Loras’ armor catch his eye and slow his stride. For a moment he watched him atop that brilliant white steed, internally debating on whether or not he should invite him along when a sharp voice snapped him back to attention. His lips parted, anxiety stirring within him for he surely did not mean to possibly cause Loras trouble in any way, especially by allowing his eyes to linger too long. His first thought was to deny it, but dishonesty had never done him any favors in the past.

“I assure you, my lady, I meant no harm…” He eyed the guards seemingly itching to draw their swords, and Arrow seemed to pick up on the sudden tenseness, her head tossing back as she pulled on the reigns in his hand. “Ser Loras is a friend and I had considered inviting him on a quick hunt, but I did not want to interfere with his duties.”

Olenna raised an eyebrow at the Ironborn, “What is your name?” she asked sharply, “I would offer my own but if you don’t already know it you’re a fool not worth speaking with.” She was the only crone on his Seven forsaken journey and her clothes adorned with golden roses after all.

“And I know exactly what it was you meant,” she told him in a deadpan, “Now unlike most old beings I harbour no such disdain for two boys having a go at it between the sheets. At the age when all that a boy can think with is between his legs and he’s surrounded by his own I’d argue its natural, they may even learn how to lesson or two while they’re at it,” she commented dryly, the two guards behind her shifting slightly as she spoke. Olenna turned back and said wryly, “I’m old, not deaf, you’re about as discreet as those bloody dragons.” Before offering her attention to Theon once more.  

“Ser Loras is an impulsive fool,” she told him bluntly, “Just like his father and his father before him. His duties as of now are to prepare for battle and bask in the adoration of the small-folk.” And even that seemed too much him at times nowadays, luckily Greydon was keeping an eye on the boy. “And you may be hunting but certainly not for food.”

There were strange mixes of people in this vast travelling pack, she’d seen Lannister soldiers and Dothraki marching feet apart or Ironborn and Tyrells doing the same. It struck her as as much a place for chaos to erupt as it was a place for opportunity to grow, and Olenna planned on watching the garden carefully to see what should be cultivated and what pruned back.

For all she scoffed at the notion of ‘Growing Strong’ there was some political truth in the words. Stepping out of her wheelhouse as the day began to wane and camp needing setting up, Olenna spotted her grandchild a small ways away and began walking over to them, looking around her gaze landed upon the Stark-Ironborn, she’d heard enough about him to think him worth little more than a withering passing glance, until she noticed the direction of his stare: her youngest grandson. 

She diverted her walk, two large guards, hands on blades, inches behind her as she stopped before Theon and bluntly spoken, “My Grandson’s buggery has already caused havoc in my house once, I’d advise averting your gaze before it gets poked out.” 

Godforsaken travelling. Olenna could think of few things as tortuous as drearily trudging across an equally dreary landscape all in the name of arriving at a frozen wasteland to face a war against unholy monsters. Honestly the whole facade was about as enjoyable as conversing with several Lannisters about financial matters for an entire day. But, there were some small glints of light in amongst all the rubbish, her family were here. Her grandchildren were marching and, given they were supplying all the food currently being consumed, her House was the strongest making no claim for that ugly iron chair. 

So, as the day came to a close and servants prepared her large tent, setting a small fire within as well as bringing in her writing equipment, Olenna took a seat and wrote her letters. Instructions to those remaining in Highgarden, messages to be passed on to the appropriate people and keeping a running total on the food supplies to ensure they would last. Of course, people came to visit, she suspected the perspective monarchs would soon be by to seduce an alliance out of her, the Tyrells held a large army and were the wealthiest house in Westeros, it would be foolish not to try and gain her favour. Right now though she was awaiting a different kind of visit. She turned and raised an eyebrow under wimple as Ser Greydon entered. 

“About time. If I had to send my guards looking for you then I would have been very unhappy.” she deadpanned, “How was following my Grandchildren around today? I suspect Garlan was about as much as watching this withered grass grow.” 

♔  →  westeros  presents  OLENNA TYRELL,  the  DOWAGER LADY of  HIGHGARDEN.  a  raven  sent  word  that  she bear(s)  the  resemblance  to  DIANA RIGG.  the  EIGHTY  year  old  FEMALE  was  POLITICAL  &  ARTICULATE  before  the  dawn  of  war,  but  have  now  become  MANIPULATIVE  &  CYNICAL.  when  songs  are  sung,  their  verses  speak  of  A MOUTH SHARPER THAN VALYRIAN STEEL, A QUEEN OF THORNS WHO NEEDS NO THRONE AND INTELLIGENCE TO MATCH THAT OF ANY MAN AND WILLING TO DESTROY ANY WHO SUGGEST OTHERWISE.  whispers  throughout  the  seven  kingdoms  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  HOUSE  LANNISTER ,  but  fealty  means  little  when  you  play  the  game  of  thrones.  (  eoin,  25,  gmt,  he/him.  )