-Chapter 57-
-POV Margaery-
I tried to ease the tension because I knew that if I displeased him, everything would turn against me. It had happened before, and I didn't want it to happen again.
Ronnet couldn't stand people who tried to disrupt the harmony in his house and family.
"We were talking about my future marriage to the king and the reason for his extreme training," I tried to explain, giving the most innocent smile I could manage.
He laughed, then responded in a tone that wasn't unkind but slightly mocking:
"Yes, I can understand that from your point of view it seems extreme, but it's just basic training that all my children will receive once they reach the age of six. They will undergo the same training."
"You're going to make your children go through that?" I said, shocked, because Ronald and Tommen were really fighting like street brawlers, with punches, elbows, kicks, sticks, swords, shields… everything they could find, they would throw at each other or use to hit each other.
"Yes, they need to be ready to fight at any moment. The throne is a relatively safe seat most of the time, but you never know when an assassin will show up with a poisoned dagger," he said.
"Even your daughter?" Sansa asked from the side.
"No assassin will spare her just because she's a girl," Ronnet replied nonchalantly.
"And regarding the marriage, I've already told you several times that it will take place on his 18th name day, not a day before. There's no need for superfluous discussions," he said, this time seriously, with furrowed brows.
"House Tyrell cares a lot about this marriage, and we've received many proposals… including one from Doran Martell of Dorne," said my grandmother, displeased with the disdain with which we were being treated, as we were supposed to form a tripartite alliance, yet it seemed only the Griffin was taking flight.
I turned my head as quickly as possible towards her with a perplexed expression because we had agreed not to antagonize this man given his abilities and fantastic skill at murder.
I quickly added, "But of course, we didn't accept. We just wanted to know if the king had any affection for me or…"
"I perfectly understood what you meant," said the Lord Protector, whose smile had vanished and whose eyes had turned from a summer sea into a frozen lake.
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-POV Ronnet Connington-
The subtext of Olenna Tyrell's words was:
'If Margaery doesn't become queen, then we will side with Daenerys Targaryen by forming an alliance with the Martells.'
An empty threat for many reasons, but one that had the power to annoy me to no end.
She is the new Mistress of Whisperers on the small council thanks to my recommendation, but that didn't mean she held all the cards or that we were equals.
She needed to understand that here in the capital, she wasn't the one pulling everyone's strings, that she was nothing, and that if she dared to threaten me again, I would drown her son and grandchildren in her own blood.
Margaery tried to get out of this situation, but I cut her off by saying:
"I perfectly understood what you meant."
My gaze then shifted from Margaery to the old, withered rose full of thorns, and I said:
"This is the last time in your life that you will threaten me. I'm someone who doesn't like complicated things, so I'll be frank and simple with you: the next time you make such threats, be prepared to follow through because all my troops will march on Highgarden to paint its walls red."
"Now you're the one threatening me," Olenna Tyrell said, maintaining her haughty tone but with more incisiveness.
I shook my head and said, "That's the difference between us: you play with words, I don't. I'm very serious—I will eradicate your entire house if I sense even the slightest hint of treason in the air."
"You don't have the…"
"The power? The power to do what? Start a war? Declare you a traitor to the kingdom and have your throat slit right now? Or simply force you to watch your own son condemn you for your senility? Because we all know, even if YOU pull the strings, it will always be HIM who makes the final decision. And between his survival and that of his entire house, what will your cowardly, weak son choose?" I asked.
I smiled mockingly as I looked at the old woman who was trying to maintain a neutral and fearless facade, and I added:
"Do you think he'll accept an alliance with the Dornish for what? And more importantly, why? A marriage with your crippled grandson, to mix your blood with dragon's blood? Or with the second one, a good rider, good commander, good fighter… Oh no, you've already married that one off, so there's only the third one left, the one you planned to marry to Sansa, the one who prefers to be skewered rather than to skewer himself."
She said nothing, but I could feel her seething inside; I could hear her heartbeat quickening, and I finished by saying:
"From now on, you are dismissed to Highgarden. You are no longer a member of the small council. You will leave with all your knights, soldiers, and half of your servants. I don't want to see your sigils in the Red Keep by the end of the day. I'll leave it to you to explain to your nephew and son why they've been stripped of their titles as Master of Ships and Master of Laws."