Margaery Tyrell had always loved roses.
She enjoyed the fine wines her grandmother had introduced her to—she needs to learn tolerance, the sooner the better, Lady Olenna had said.
Her days passed peacefully, studying with the maesters and absorbing every lesson her grandmother chose to impart.
Today, however, her lesson involved a northern servant from House Stark.
The Starks. Honorable to a fault, lacking finesse but never virtue, her grandmother had taught.
Margaery continued her stroll through the gardens, and then she slipped.
She landed on the stone path with practiced precision, her knee scraped just enough to sting, not enough to scar. Her eyes brimmed with tears, trembling and ready to spill.
Nothing happened.
No one rushed to her aid.
She lifted her gaze and fixed it on the northern servant. He was a teenager, perhaps six or seven years older than she was. A black "suit" or so it's calld, framed his figure neatly, white gloves covered his hands, and a white mask hid his face entirely. Despite the lack of visible expression, he radiated amusement.
For Margaery, this reaction was wholly unfamiliar.
A faint chuckle reached her ears, and irritation threatened to break through her composure, but her grandmother's teachings held firm.
"Mommmyyy," she cried inconsolably. Appropriate, yes. Humiliating, also yes.
Use all your weapons; sweet poison is common in love and war, Lady Olenna often said.
At last, the servant approached, his stride measured and regal, more fitting for the heir of a wealthy merchant than a mere servant of the North.
"My apologies, my lady," he said calmly. "It seems you require assistance. Would you like me to help you?"
That was new.
Most men rushed in uninvited, fled for other servants, or panicked outright. This one had offered her a choice.
"Yesss…" she sobbed softly.
He guided her to a nearby table and quietly ordered water, clean white cloth, and her caretaker. He cleaned her wound with practiced ease while Margaery observed him carefully.
"Why…" she whimpered, tears streaking her cheeks, "why did you laugh at me?"
"My apologies, my lady," he replied evenly. "You reminded me of myself, once."
"Why?" she pressed.
He chuckled again.
"Women, children, and the elderly are often ignored or dismissed. My mother taught me to use that to my advantage."
Marjorie stared at him, tears still clinging to her lashes, inwardly unsettled.
"My mother brought me to a house of red courtesans," he continued without embarrassment. "There, I learned how to speak, how to apply makeup, how to smile, how to charm a client, and how to read those around me. It was… enlightening."
Margaery recoiled internally, though her face remained composed.
"Makeup, my lord?" she asked softly. "Is that not reserved for women?"
Both of them aware that the ruse was over.
"Of course not," he replied. "Even now, her lessons serve me well in aiding my liege, Lord Eddard Stark. Would you like to see?"
Curiosity won out. She nodded.
"Watch carefully, my lady."
He walked behind a tree that blocked her view for only a few seconds.
When he emerged, Margaery froze.
Where once stood a noble-looking young man, now appeared a breathtaking woman. Tall, poised, her black hair swept into an elegant bun. She wore a striking red dress that revealed one shoulder,tasteful, alluring,and finely detailed red gloves adorned her hands. Only the mask remained unchanged.
"Impressed?" came a deep, feminine voice.
Margaery's cheeks flushed. "My… my lady…"
"That will be enough," an older voice cut in.
Lady Olenna Tyrell entered the garden with the bearing of a queen. She gestured for Margaery to sit and regarded the stranger with sharp amusement.
"Lady Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns," the woman in red said with a graceful bow. "It is my honor to meet you."
"Not mine," Olenna replied dryly. "And stand straight, I am no sheath-swirler."
"Thorny as ever," the woman smiled. "I am Sébastienne."
"And why have you come from the north, red prostitute," Olenna asked, "besides troubling my granddaughter and wasting my time?"
"I was reminiscing, my lady," Sébastienne replied, hiding her already hidden smile, behind a decorative fan. "And I came to discuss trade."
Silence followed.
"A waste of my time," Olenna declared, turning to leave.
"Lady Olenna...-" she said "-, your ring."
Margaery noticed it immediately. Her grandmother's largest ring was gone.
They watched as Sébastienne retrieved it, slipped something out of the ring into her wine, and drank slowly. While she drank, her mask lifted just enough to reveal a glimpse of her face.
'Poison' thought the kid, dreading the fact that their guest would die.
'But why would he poiso…' her thought came to an abrupt end due to Lady Olenna who recovered fast.
"Keep it," she said sharply. "Payment for whatever sword-swallower or sheath-swirlers you meet on the road."
"How delightful" she replied,
"but... it would be improper of me to receive without giving something in return" Sébastienne murmured, kneeling beside Margaery. She removed one glove, revealing pale hands with crimson polished nails. Dipping a finger into the remnants of the poisoned wine, the red polish darkened subtly, nearly imperceptible.
She produced a small bottle of red polish and offered it to Margaery.
Understanding dawned. Margaery looked to her grandmother, who nodded.
"My thanks for the gift," Margaery said quietly.
"Think nothing of it, child," Sébastienne replied. "More will come from the North."
She departed at her leisure, like a cat who knew she owned the room.
"We will talk later," Olenna said at last, with a controlled but predatory smile forming.
_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _
Lady Olenna's Chambers
"What did you learn today?" Olenna asked to her protegee.
"He came for trade. He knew I was lying from the beginning. He unsettled me deliberately, to draw your attention. He stole your ring, poisoned his wine to show his immunity, and gave me that gift."
Olenna smiled.
"You knew I would fail," Margaery realized. "You wanted information."
Lady Olenna nodded and said. "I lied to you. Lies come from allies and enemies alike. From butlers who cross-dress on a whim, and from yourself. You must do better. To lie, to no get lied and all in between" she taught
"And my…?"
"More confidence, child."
"My safety was assured," Margaery said slowly. "He came in the name of House Stark."
"Good girl," Olenna replied. "The polish was a surprise, but a welcome one. What comes next?"
"An alliance."
"Not yet," Olenna said.
"First, we trade. Alliances come later. Seeds have been planted, and coin will follow."
She smiled to herself.
The dog may be cleverer than the wolves, she thought.
But is he loyal?
Only time will tell.
_ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
A/n: Hope you like it, leave comments, drop stones and dont expect much from me. I'll be busy these day so wish me luck.
Also, this is the last "gary stu" chapter, at least for now. I had something planned but we will se what happens. who cares and who knows.