"What is that damn boy doing down there?" Olenna's voice seethed through gritted teeth as she leaned forward, her gaze piercing the scene unfolding below.
In the viewing area, the Tyrell family occupied their respective positions. Olenna, the matriarch, sat on the far right, her aged fingers drumming with impatience on a small table beside her, a plate of cheese forgotten. Lord Mace, occupying the central spot, had his table overflowing with an assortment of snacks and pastries, clearly intended for the guests. And closest to the stairs was Willas watching with a troubled expression.
They all watched as Loras entered the desolate training ground accompanied by Dacey, the Northern girl from House Mormont. A fleeting conversation passed between them, and then immediately vanished into the nearby changing room, emerging moments later clad in leathers and breeches, a clothing rarely worn by women in Reach.
"I fear they're about to engage in a duel," Willas confided, his voice laden with concern, his gaze locked on Loras and Dacey as they began warning up, Loras with his training sword and Dacey Mormont with the only Morning star available in the Training yard that had barely been used by anyone before, "I warned you, grandmother, that sending Loras to receive Jon was ill-advised, Now—"
"And I thought he was going to provoke a fight with the boy, not the girl!" Olenna interjected. Although she loved all her grandchildren equally, there was something about Loras that reminded her too much of his father, speaking of which "What have you been teaching him, you—" she turned toward her biggest embarrassment only to find him gorging himself on pastries and hadn't even bothered to look up what was going on, "Stop eating, you fool!" she hissed, her frustration evident.
"But Mother—"
"NOW!" Olenna's harsh whisper echoed, compelling Mace to reluctantly set down his favourite cake. He quickly wiped his hands on his pants, a despondent look replacing the joy he had earlier derived from the snacks.
Just then, the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs caught their attention. All eyes turned to Margery, who led a handsome young man into the room. He possessed brown hair and grey eyes, a common trait among the Starks. However, his eyes were so dark grey that they appeared almost black. His tall stature and lean build hinted at countless hours spent in the training yard.
"Jon! It's wonderful to see you again, my friend," Willas exclaimed, rising from his seat to greet him with an enthusiastic handshake.
"The pleasure is mine, Willas," Jon replied warmly.
Willas suddenly narrowed his eyes and leaned down to whisper, "You decline my invitation, yet accept my grandmother's. Should I take offence?" he tried to say it with a stern expression on his face but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.
With a poker face, Jon whispered back, "You lack the intimidating reputation your grandmother possesses."
Willas erupted into genuine laughter, his hand landing playfully on Jon's shoulder. "Good answer!" he chuckled. Turning to his assembled family, he declared, "Come, allow me to introduce you to my kin." Stepping forward, he gestured toward his father, Mace, and said, "Jon, this is my father, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Mace Tyrell."
"Lord Tyrell, it is an honour to make your acquaintance," Jon greeted Mace with a graceful bow, his words measured and respectful.
Mace's eyes fixated on Jon, a flicker of recognition in his gaze. "You bear a striking resemblance to your father, boy," he mused, his voice carrying a nostalgic tone. Not waiting for a response, he continued, "I met him a few times. Did he tell you about that?" With enthusiasm, Mace launched into a tale, recounting his involvement in the rebellion.
"It was during the rebellion, you see," Mace began, his voice filled with pride. "I was there outside Storm's End with my army, having the castle completely surrounded. Every single person inside was starving, on the verge of defeat. But before that could happen, your father arrived with the news that King's Landing had fallen..."
Mace continued with his story like a peacock while Willas and Jon exchanged awkward glances. Margery had been called to stand behind her grandmother as soon as she entered the room, and Jon caught a glimpse of her answering Olenna's whispered questions. Though he couldn't hear their conversation, he could deduce that they were discussing Loras and Dacey's activities below.
"—and then he requested that I lay down my arms and join their side," Mace continued, his voice brimming with self-importance. "I was reluctant, of course, but he convinced me that since the king was dead, there was no need for further bloodshed. So I graciously—
"I'm sure the boy has heard all about it from his father already. No need to bore him with that," Jon was sure that it didn't go down quite the way Mace put it but it would be stupid of him to deny the Lord some bragging so he just put on a fake smile and listened to his drivel. Still, he felt a wave of gratitude wash over him when Olenna interrupted, preventing Mace from delving into the entire rebellion from "his" perspective.
Seizing the opportunity, Willas swiftly ushered Jon toward his grandmother. "Jon, this is my grandmother, Olenna Tyrell nee Redwyne—"
"I'm sure he knows who I am, considering I am the one who invited him," Olenna interjected, her gaze appraising as she locked eyes with Jon. Jon responded by kissing the back of her hand with perfect courtesy. "My Lady, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Olenna raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "A Northerner with manners, now that's a rare sight," she commented.
"Grandmother!" Willas and Margery chimed simultaneously, their frowns mirroring their disapproval. Yet, Jon didn't lose his smile for a single second, in fact, it became even more genuine, as he replied with a tilt of his head, "Thank you for the compliment, My lady. I've worked hard on my etiquette since childhood,"
"Thank you for the compliment, my lady. I've worked hard on my etiquette since childhood."
Olenna's interest sparked an intrigued gleam in her eyes. However, the conversation was abruptly interrupted as Mace interjected, unable to resist boasting further. "Tell me, boy, did Lord Stark tell you about the Battle of Ashford? You know, the only time King Robert lost to anyone..."
Jon watched as the rest of the Tyrells, except Mace, tried to suppress groans of exasperation. It became clear that Mace had a habit of bragging to every new guest that arrived. Out of the corner of his eye, Jon caught Olenna's signal to one of her giant guards, standing by the stairs. The guard nodded imperceptibly, then positioned himself in front of Mace, bowing respectfully. "My Lord, the Maester has an urgent letter that requires your immediate attention."
"An important letter, you say?" Mace's eyes widened with feigned surprise. Puffing out his chest, he addressed Jon proudly, "I apologize, boy, but I must attend to this matter immediately. You know how many duties the Lord Paramount of the Reach has." With a final pat on Jon's shoulder, Mace made his way toward the exit.
Willas shook his head with a sigh, disappointed at how gullible his father was. He knew that his Father wasn't the brightest but still, he should have known by now that it was one of Olenna's tactics to manipulate him. Thankfully, she refrained from issuing her usual "Get lost, you oaf!" reserved for family members. Maintaining a semblance of respect for the Lord of House Tyrell was crucial, no matter how superficial it might be.
"Now tell me—" Olenna began, but then paused and turned to her grandchildren. "What are you waiting for? Go see your brother make a fool of himself," she shooed them away with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I want to talk to Jon Snow here alone."
Willas hesitated momentarily before rising with a sigh. Casting an apologetic glance at Jon, he moved to stand by the railing, far enough to be out of earshot. Margery attempted to make herself inconspicuous, inching behind her grandmother, hoping to escape her notice. However, Olenna's glare fixed on her granddaughter, prompting Margery to scramble after her brother, but not before waving to Jon and casting a pitying glance in his direction.
"Why are you still standing? Sit down!" Olenna commanded, and Jon calmly took the seat vacated by Willas. "Now tell me, why did you not accept Loras's offer to duel? Were you scared? Because if you were, I must say, I am quite disappointed. I thought that you Starks were famous for your Wolf's blood or something."
Jon easily recognized that Olenna had been trying to provoke him from the start, though the reason remained unclear. Nonetheless, he knew how to navigate such encounters. "Well, I thought it would be a waste of my time, as I came here for a different purpose than to play knight," he replied with a subtle smirk. "Besides, I am more of a hunter and an archer than a swordsman."
"A waste of time, you say..." Olenna mused, her narrowed eyes fixed upon him. "But didn't you promise to fight him once he defeated that girl?"
"I did," Jon nodded, his gaze shifting to the predatory smirk on Dacey's face below. "But I don't think it will come to that."
"I somehow get the feeling that you're underestimating my grandson," she remarked, plucking a piece of cheese from the plate before them. "And while I can see that the girl's a bit older than Loras, he has been taught by the finest knight the Reach could offer. He rarely loses to a fighter his age, so... I think you'd be foolish to take him for a lousy fighter."
Jon maintained his calm demeanour, his gaze steady. "Oh, I can see from here that he is a hard worker and has a solid foundation. But... that's all I can see," he subtly shrugged, provoking her. "I don't believe it would be enough to defeat Dacey."
Olenna raised an eyebrow, her confidence unwavering. "You're quite confident about her, aren't you?"
"I am," Jon affirmed.
"In that case, how about a bet?" Olenna proposed a glint of challenge in her eyes.
At last, Jon realized the true purpose behind her invitation and her initial attempts to provoke him. "What do you have in mind?"
"I've heard that you're in the market for some trade galleys," she inquired, raising an eyebrow. When Jon nodded, she continued, "So, how about I give you one for free if Loras happens to lose?"
"In exchange for what?" Jon knew that a single galley would be nothing more than pocket change for her so he didn't even bat an eye at her betting it on a simple duel.
"I've heard rumours of a secret route you use to bypass the Ironborn," she stated nonchalantly as if it hadn't been her true objective from the start. "I want access to that route if Loras wins. How does that sound?"
"Hmm... It does seem heavily skewed in your favour, considering the profits that can be made using the route," he mused. Then, with a sweet smile, he added, "But... I'll agree to that on behalf of you inviting me to see the castle of Highgarden"
"That's final then," she said, her smug smile mirroring Jon's. It was at that exact moment both of them looked down to find that Loras and Dacey had finished warming up and had entered the ring for their duel.
Loras had a distracted expression on his face as he kept glancing towards the balcony with a scowl on his face, while Dacey assumed a relaxed stance, her Morningstar gripped firmly in her right hand.
The duel started at a predetermined signal and Loras didn't waste a single second to go on the offensive with a flurry of strikes, each aimed at swiftly ending the contest. Yet, Dacey calmly evaded his attacks, stepping back and gracefully leaning her body sideways to narrowly avoid each blow. When she couldn't dodge, she effortlessly parried Loras's sword with her Morningstar, wielding it as if it weighed nothing.
In due course, Dacey found herself at the edge of the ring, forced to halt her evasive manoeuvres. Seizing the opportunity, Loras smirked and pressed his advantage, moving in for the kill as Dacey bought her Morning Star to defend against his slash.
As they locked their weapons, Loras opened his mouth, most probably to say something like, 'Surrender now,' or 'I don't want to hit a girl,' but sadly he never got the chance to say more than a few words as out of nowhere Dacey smashed her forehead ruthlessly into the pretty boy's nose causing him to see stars. He stumbled back like a disoriented drunk before crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.
A stunned silence settled over the scene, broken by Margery's gasp, "LORAS," as she rushed down the stairs to check on her fallen brother. Olenna wore an incredulous expression, while Jon calmly savoured a pastry before him, "Loras may have been taught by the best, but unfortunately, he is still a green boy... On the other hand, Dacey has been slaying Wildlings and Ironborn raiders since she was ten years old... There was never any real competition between them from the beginning."
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