It was a warm summer afternoon.
The kind with a lot of white fluffy clouds floating in the sky, moving unhurriedly in a single direction.
The sun hanging straight above in the sky was also just warm enough not to be scorching, making it the perfect day for an outing with the family.
Down below lay the wide, meandering Rose Road, a major highway that started from the distant capital in Kings Landing, bridged twice over the river Mander, passed the castle of Highgarden and went all the way to Oldtown.
This road was not only the biggest unbroken road in Westeros, right after the King's road, but was also the most comfortable one to traverse, with lots and lots of inns, hotels and towns along the way, offering cheap rooms and food, so that no one walking on this road ever felt the need to sleep outside.
And considering that Reach was called the breadbasket of Westeros, there was no shortage of large, beautiful fields filled with golden swaying wheat stalks that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Just walking amidst these blossoming farmsteads gave one a sense of peace as if they were in a paradise...
But on this day, this calm peace of the countryside was abruptly broken by a long line of human convoy coming down the road in an orderly manner.
Nobles, Knights, Soldiers, Merchants and all kinds of Smallfolks could be seen in this convoy moving slowly but steadily as if they were a colony of ants mingling among each other peacefully.
Abruptly, one after another, small and big heads began emerging from fields on both sides of the road, staring at the convoy down the road with shock, awe, and trepidation in their eyes.
Some of the older smallfolks took one look and immediately grabbed their tools and began running away towards their homes, wanting nothing to do with whatever this was, while other younger folks, who hadn't seen much of life yet, were far less afraid and came closer to see this rare sighting with a sense of excitement and curiosity.
A few minutes later, one of the sharp-eyed onlookers caught sight of a fluttering flag and abruptly exclaimed while raising a trembling finger, "I-I know that flag! T-That's the Tarly house symbol!!"
"What?! The House Tarly of Hornhill?!"
"Yes. A-And isn't the one behind that the flag of Oldtown, of the house of um...tower something,"
"The Hightowers?"
"Exactly."
"And wait, not only that, there's the rose of High Garden on that big one. House Tyrell's flag."
"W-What are all these big nobles up to? Where are they going?" one of the older middle-aged men asked with surprise and awe on his face, "Is there a war somewhere?"
"What?" "A war?!"
A hush immediately fell onto the crowd at those words, as the faces of the older smallfolks paled and their eyes widened in horror, as if they were reminiscing about something from more than half a lifetime ago.
"D-Don't be absurd, we would have been conscripted, and our harvest would have been snatched long ago, if there was to be a war." Thankfully, one of the smarter ones in the crowd, who was the brother of a merchant, clarified before the panic could spread among the farmers.
"He is right. If they were marching for war, they wouldn't be bringing so many slow carriages along with them, would they?"
"Then where else could they be going in such great numbers?"
That stumped most of the innocent smallfolks present there, as there were very few occasions other than a war where these stuck-up nobles would willingly bother to tolerate each other in such close proximity while travelling.
"I know! I know!!" One of the younger lads, not even wearing any shirt on his chest, suddenly jumped out and exclaimed excitedly, "T-They all must be going to attend that Tourney!!"
"What tourney, boy?! Don't talk nonsense!" The boy's mother snapped as she hurriedly pulled her naughty brat back to her side.
"I am not making it up," The boy continued determinedly, despite his mother's best effort to silence him, "My friend, Koby, has a brother who is a squire in the nearby fort, and h-he said that there is going to be a big trouney in the capital. And everyone who is a knight is going there to participate."
"The boy makes sense," The Middle-aged man from earlier said while stroking his beard, as the boy was abruptly forced to disappear by his mother, "I have also heard about this so-called Tourney from my brother when he went into town. It's supposed to be quite a big gathering, where most of the great nobles from the Seven Kingdoms are said to be attending."
"A tourney bringing so many nobles out of their castles..." an old man murmured with a somewhat worried look on his face, as he remembered quite clearly the war that followed the last time a Tourney gathered this much attention.
...
From the outside, this large convoy looked just like it was one giant gathering, but only when one came closer would they realise how much distance and distinctiveness there was between each different group belonging to the various noble families.
It was as if they were all afraid of being lumped together with a family with standing lower than theirs.
The smaller noble families only brought, or rather, were allowed to bring just one or at most two simple carriages, and a limit of ten to fifteen men as their guards, while the bigger ones, such as the Houses Redwyne, Florents, and Tarly, had at least five carriages, and about fifty men in their group which didn't even include the cooks, soldiers, maids, stable hands, squire, and all other kinds of servants.
And this wasn't even the limit, as that crown went to the family leading the pack from the middle, who brought almost thrice as much of everything as the next noble family, including hundreds of soldiers, more than a dozen knights, and not to mention the sheer amount of carriages in their cliques.
Carriages that came in all sorts of sizes, from small to large, carrying all kinds of close and distant relatives who all came under the Tyrell umbrella, but the largest and most extravagant carriage stood out from all, with its intricate decoration of gold, gems, and made wholly out of wood the colour of rose, and was being pulled by about half dozen white horses.
It was the very epitome of wealth.
And only House Tyrell, with its immense resources and with its innate need to let the world know that they were the rightful Lord Paramounts of the Reach, that they were the second richest family in Westeros, would go to such lengths to show off.
Perhaps even the Westerlands might not be able to pull up such a grand parade as not to mention the disgust that Lord Tywin would feel in putting on this kind of show for those he considered his lesser; he would also never allow his vessels to put on such a display of power in front of the commoners.
At this moment, inside the grand carriage, a lively discussion was underway between half a dozen noble women, each wearing dresses so expensive that they could feed a village with them for a year.
But just as someone was explaining(bragging) about the intricate details on the latest dress that her husband had brought for her from an Essosi merchant who 'exclusively' sold to them, a sharp voice abruptly cut through her words.
"Enough of you chattering." Every noblewoman sitting there flinched and turned to the old women sitting at the very end, looking at them with irritation in her eyes, "You have given me a headache with all your constant squawking," she snorted before waving her hand dismissively, "Go on. Get out of my sight. Go help your good-for-nothing husbands look good or something,"
The noble women were all stunned for a few moments before someone sitting at the other end took the lead, and they all began to slowly exit the carriage one by one, all while muttering under their breaths that she was being very unreasonable and not acting like a noble by kicking them out so abruptly.
But they only dared to voice their displeasure in low, inaudible voices as they knew very well the temper of the Tyrell Matriarch, who wouldn't care too much about their standing and would reprimand them openly in front of everyone if they dared to offend her.
"You are the one who asked mother to call for them, Grandmother," a pleasant voice said as the carriage emptied except for the two of them, "So is it not wrong now to kick them out so rudely?"
"What's so rude about it?" Olenna replied with a scoff, as she picked up a piece of cheese from the plate in front of her, "I called them in because I was hoping to glean some useful information out of their loose mouths, not to listen to their incessant chatter. Their naggings about whose dress was more expensive and whose family had more connections were tiring on the ears. So why would I bother listening to them for any longer than necessary?"
Margery helplessly shook her head at that, as the girl knew that it would be easier to make a Maester renounce his vows and marry than to force her grandmother to be polite with anyone.
"But you are wrong about them being completely useless, Grandmother," Margery said with an small smile on her face, "After all, we didn't know before this meeting that there had been a fight between the King and the Queen, and that Queen Cersei has already rejected Robin Arryn and Robb Stark for her daughter, after Robert Baratheon suggested this match to her."
Of course, the woman who was the source of this information had only mentioned this in passing, saying it was a small anecdote that her cousin, whose family lived in Stormlands and who served as a Baratheon guard, had written to her in a letter.
"And that piece of news was the only reason I tolerated the lot for so long. Otherwise, I would have kicked them out long ago," Olenna shook her head with a dismissive expression on her face, "But this news doesn't matter much to us, because our focus on this trip is neither the Baratheons nor the Lannisters. You remember that right?" she asked while looking meaningfully at her grandaughter, whose beauty had completely blossomed over the past two years and now looked so mesmerising that everyone who saw her compared her with the Queen.
"I remember Grandmother." The girl nodded calmly, "The task is not a difficult one for me. After all, I was already very fond of him when we met him during the time he saved cousin Tara from the Ironborn. So it should be easy to reestablish our connection when we meet and go from there."
"Good." The old woman said as she leaned back, looking a little relieved, "You, girl, are the only one in our family that I can rely on without worry, because if it were left to your father, then our family would have already—"
"But Grandmother, I still don't understand," The girl interrupted before her Grandmother could go on a tangent while complaining about her father, "Why him? Why Jon Snow?"
It's not that the girl was averse to the idea of Jon Snow; in fact, it was the opposite, as the young maiden even held a faint anticipation in her heart towards the boy, as he was not only handsome and a great warrior, but was also capable enough that he had established a massive shipping company at such a young age.
And all these qualities brought him straight to the top of her list of potential suitors, not to mention that his cunning was more than a match for her, someone who had learned at her grandmother's lap from a young age.
And most importantly, he was actually not afraid of her intelligence, and she hadn't even needed to pretend to be a demure little girl in front of him in the short few interactions they shared during his visit.
His feats were so absurd for his age that it even forced the King and his people to overlook his parentage and reward him with a knighthood with such fanfare.
So all in all, even if one were to nitpick, they would be hard-pressed to say something bad about him.
But even then, none of these achievements should have been enough for her grandmother to even think about forging a connection between him and her family, using her.
Not to mention the fact that her Grandmother was essentially telling her to sacrifice this rare chance for her to interact with the Royal progeny, and focus on Jon instead, basically letting go of her ambition to marry their family into the royal family.
And while her grandmother hadn't told her outright to seduce him yet, the girl could read between the lines and understood that the old Matriarch was telling her to set a foundation between the two of them, so that it could be used in the future when the time came.
And all this confused the girl very much, so she finally decided to ask her directly, but...
"You will understand everything later," Olenna answered evasively, while patting the back of her granddaughter's hand, with a somewhat distant look in her eyes, as if she was looking at something far away, "Just trust in your Grandmother girl, and know that she wouldn't let you be wronged."
Ever since the Old Tyrell Matriarch had heard from her eldest about his speculations on Jon's parentage through the exchange of letters between Oberyn and him, Olenna hadn't been able to get a good night's sleep.
She had spent days and weeks ruminating about this secret, considering all the pros and cons of how this could benefit her family the most.
And finally, after much thought, she decided to change the whole strategy that her family had been working towards for the past half a decade.
In the end, the choice had been simple for her when she had clearly listed the two options placed before her family.
One choice would lead the Kingdom to continue to be run by that fat, drunkard who was working himself hard to head towards an early grave, not to mention that there was already a great house married in who had a tight grip on every aspect of power, leaving little meat for them to nibble on, even if they forced themselves in.
While the second choice brought in a youthful, fresh face who had intelligence, composure, and experience of a man thrice his age, and in addition to that, he had already been tested in the cruel battlefield of Essos, where he not only survived but thrived.
And on this side, there are very few backers except for the boy's Uncle and his family, so they would have the advantage of being early investors, making it very much worth their while, even if there was a massive risk involved.
Plus, she had also heard that the boy was very close to Oberyn during his Essosi trip, so the risk in the end may not even be as much as she was thinking at the moment, if all the pieces fell into their places at just the right time.
"I... understand, Grandmother," Margery replied with a helpless look on her face as she realised that this was the only answer she would get from her at the moment.
But it didn't matter too much, as she had always been ready to be sacrificed for the greater good of her family, and this choice was indeed much better than the other one, regarding whom she had already heard plenty of bad rumours.
"Grandmother!" A deep voice called from outside the carriage, interrupting their private conversation, and Margery immediately stood up to open the door to the carriage and peeked out, only to find that the sun had gone down to almost the horizon while they were deep in discussion, and standing out there was her brother, Loras Tyrell.
"Grandmother! Margery!" he said, nodding to both of them with a small smile, "Mother told me to call both of you. The food is almost ready."
"I understand," Margery slowly nodded while looking at her brother with a somewhat lamentable look on her face.
If someone who had not seen her brother over the last year were to see him at this moment, then 7 times out of 10, they would surely not be able to recognise him, so drastic was the change in him.
The young Tyrell had not only grown a beard, but his flamboyant hair that he always kept so meticulously groomed and well maintained, had now been tamed into a sombre cut that made him look like a proper warrior that even the strictest Knight would approve of.
And the surprising reason behind this huge change was a girl...
A girl from the North.
Ever since that fated day when her brother had lost so thoroughly in his fight with Dacey Mormont, the boy had been like a completely different person.
He had lost most of his arrogance and became almost obsessed with training, spending nearly all his day inside the grounds, working himself hard so that he could eventually defeat that bear lady fairly and regain his honour.
But the girl he had made his goal was not an idle woman but a fierce warrior who rarely stayed in one place at a time.
She was a captain who was in almost complete control of a large fleet of ships that was constantly on the move between North and most of the port cities located on this side of Westeros, and she did not have, as she put it, 'Time to indulge a pretty boy every few weeks when it fancied him.'
But Loras was very stubborn about it and decided that since she wouldn't come to Reach, then he would go to her in the North and join her ship as a warrior.
Of course, his Father and Mother were horrified at the very thought of their precious boy travelling on a ship, and going to that dangerous frozen wasteland of the North, and immediately forbade him.
But unfortunately for them, someone higher up the food chain decided that Loras's idea was brilliant and decided to override their decision with a wave of her hand, giving him permission to fulfil his wish.
Olenna had always been a bit dissatisfied with her Grandson's flowery ways, so she was more than happy to see him be so interested in a girl, even if it was for her martial skill, and be willing to brave the cold to travel to the North, so she very much encouraged his wish, hoping that the Frozen water in the North would toughen up her Grandson and give him some of the wisdom that Jon Snow had acquired.
And in the end, her gamble worked even better than she had assumed, as the North, and more importantly, Dacey's fleet, gave the talented young Tyrell the one thing that he was desperately in need of...
Life and Death battles.
While working for the fleet, he fought against all kinds of savages, Iron Born pirates, and even the occasional slavers from Essos, and this changed something fundamental in the boy, as he finally learned what it meant to take a life, what those skills that he had trained so religiously for his whole life were useful for.
And while all this made him more serious, responsible, and worldwise, it also took the innocent pride and smile that the boy always used to carry on his face, and sometimes Margery missed her previous dazzling brother who while a little arrogant, was far less jaded person who expressed himself fully, unlike this rugged version of him that looked less like a princely knight and more like a deadly fighter.
Alas, this new version of him brought him far more respect from the soldiers and other older knights in their family's employ, so she couldn't complain too much.
Most importantly, her Grandmother was very much impressed with this change and even praised him in front of the whole family more than once, which the woman hadn't even done for her eldest son in more than a decade.
"Ah, finally," Olenna groaned as she stood up and exited the carriage with her grandson's help, "I had almost assumed that those lazy cooks were taking a break today. Come, girl, let's see what abomination your mother has decided to feed me today."
Margery rolled her eyes but didn't want to encourage her Grandmother by defending her mother, so she turned to Loras and asked, "How long until we reach King's Landing, brother?"
"I think about two more weeks," Loras answered with a thoughtful look on his face, "That is if we keep moving at this slow pace," he muttered while glancing at his Grandmother's carriage, which was the most responsible for their convoy's less-than-desired speed.
"Don't you dare look at it like that," Olenna snapped as her eyes narrowed in displeasure, "You don't know how much these old bones would have suffered if not for the comfort of this carriage. You would have been better off bringing my ashes along if you wanted to gallop all the way on your fast horses..."
Her Grandmother started complaining as usual, acting out the part of a scatter-brained old woman, which she sometimes did when it struck her fancy, but the two grandchildren had gotten used to it over the years, so they just exchanged weak smiles with each other and silently listened to her thousand grievances.
....
"Welcome, Father," Jaime Lannister greeted with a smile as he watched the Old Lion dismount his horse outside the Lion Gate, where most of the smallfolks had already been cleared by the Gold Cloaks beforehand in anticipation of the arrival of the Lannister patriarch.
Tywin simply nodded his head at his son's greeting, his eyes roving over the idiotic white armour his eldest wore so proudly with naked distaste that the Kingsguard effortlessly ignored with the experience of a veteran.
"Jaime! My dear brother!!" a jovial voice shouted as he looked past his father to see his little brother stumbling out of a carriage, and then slowly made his way over with his arms wide open and a wide smile on his face, "It is good to finally see you after so long,"
"If you can call the few months since you were here last 'long'," Jaime replied sarcastically, but the warmth on his face as he lowered himself to hug him gave away his delight at seeing his second favourite sibling.
"Ah! You wouldn't understand, brother. Time moves a lot slower for us little people, so for me it has indeed been very long." Tyrion shook his head sadly as if disappointed in his brother's lack of thought, "Speaking of slow. How come our dear sister didn't come here to welcome Father," he asked with a curious tilt of his tilt before letting out a dramatic gasp, "Don't tell me, is the Queen too busy with affairs of the kingdom to meet her old Father," he whispered loudly, as if talking about something scandalous.
"You jest brother," Jaime rolled his eyes at his brother's acting, before explaining for the sake of his Father who was now looking at him with a raised eyebrow, "Cersei was bringing Tommen and Myrcella along in a carriage right behind me, but Kingslanding is so overpopluated at the moment, because of this stupid Tourney," he said with a curl of his lips, "That they got stuck mid-way, so it will probably take them another hour before they reach here,"
"Oh, poor Cersei, so unfortunate for a queen like her to suffer because of some hideous commoners," Tyrion said with a lamenting look on his face, but the dwarf couldn't stop his lips from quirkking up, showing that he was more amused by the situation than anything, "But if we are to wait for them, then I should we get some jerkys, and a jug of ale becuase—"
"We won't wait." Tywin announced succinctly, and then, without waiting for their input, he turned around to order, "Bring back my horse."
Tyrion scowled, but didn't have much of a choice in front of his Father, so he turned and asked his retainer to bring him his pony, and then helped himself up on it, knowing well that the sight of him would bring quite the amusement to children along the way.
So the three of them, along with a dozen Lannister guards, took off into the Capital on their horses, leaving the rest of their party along with their carriages and their luggage in the capable hands of Kevan Lannister.
"You were not jesting about the crowd, brother," Tyrion mused a few minutes later as his different coloured eyes moved over the congested crowd, taking in the various Smallfolks, Merchants, and Labourers walking down the street, wearing all kinds of thin and thick clothes, and speaking in accents from all over the Seven kingdoms, bar perhaps the Iron Islands.
From rich Merchants wearing silk clothes to poor homeless children begging on the sides, everyone seemed to have enthusiasm and a kind of vibrancy in their eyes that Tyrion had never seen before in the Capital, "I don't think I have ever seen this many people in the Capital, even during the coronation of the King."
"They are all just stupid sheep following after the crowd, trying to make a few pennies from the excitement, with most of them probably not even knowing what the Tourney is being held for," Jaime murmured with a scoff, disdain dripping in his voice, "But what confuses me is why you felt the need to attend, Father?"
Jaime hadn't initially believed when he learned that his Father, who wouldn't move from his seat of power unless it was for something very important, was also slated to attend, "Don't tell me, you are also here tp see that Northerner brat?" he asked with a derisive chuckle.
Tywin turned around at that and silently looked at his son with a somewhat curious look on his face, as if trying to read his mind, making the Kingsguard feel very uncomfortable as if he was a boy once again.
"Oh, my! Is that perhaps jealousy I hear in your voice, brother?" Tyrion's amazed voice suddenly interrupting their silent conversation, and asked the very question that Tywin had been trying to find the answer to from his son's face, "Are you perhaps of the mind that the boy is undeserving of this Tourney?" The dwarf asked with a teasing look in his eyes, as if delighted by the uneasiness on his brother's face.
"Ah, but that makes sense," Tyrion continued with a nod, as he answered his own question, "After all, the boy is about to break your famous record of being the youngest knight in the last century, and that too by accomplishing a feat that was even grander than yours."
"Don't be absurd," Jaime finally replied with a scoff as he looked away, "Why would I be jealous of a little brat whose only achievement is having a father who is the friend of the King."
"Oh..." Tyrion looked taken aback for a few moments, "I don't know what your source of information is, brother, but as far as I know, King Robert had no hand in helping him with anything in Essos."
"I am not saying about that, I am just saying that he wouldn't be getting knighted with so much fanfare if his father wasn't Eddard Stark,"
Tyrion simply shrugged at that, unable to deny that there was some truth to it, as the only reason King Robert even knew the boy's name was probably because of his father.
But that didn't mean that all his achievements were because of his parentage, as in the dwarf's opinion, his birth must have hindered him as much as helped him, being a bastard.
"And even if he did all this without anyone's help, as everyone keeps on harping about," he said with a faint sneer, "That doesn't mean he is anything more than an above average fighter who has some good men under his command, becuase please don't tell me you really believe all this horse shit about him commanding a handful of ships filled with some random mercenaries, and then defeating a Pirate king with decade long reign in Essos in his first battle as a green boy?"
"Even if I didn't, which I mostly do, everyone else already seems to have believed it to be the truth," Tyrion replied with a shrug.
"Everyone who?"
"Everyone who is attending, The Tyrells, The Dornish, King Robert," Tyrion counted off on his fingers one by one, "And of course, our own father Lord Tywin Lannister," he said the last one with a amused smile on his face, and didn't flinch at all when his father turned back to stare him with scorn in his ice-cold eyes.
"The only reason I bothered to come here was to keep an eye on the families you just mentioned, some who hadn't been seen around these parts in a decade, so that they don't form an alliance that can become a hindrance to the Lannisters," he explained in a no-nonsense tone, "After all, I can't very well leave the family in the hands of the two of you— a drunken leecher and a glorified guard." he finished his piece and then after sending another imperious glare at the two, he took off on his horse from their side, as if getting tired of their chattering.
"You really can't stop yourself from poking at our father, can you?" Jaime said with a sigh, as the two of them somehow ended up trailing at the very end of their group, "Now, because of your brother, he is cross with me too."
"Oh, don't worry too much, brother. I know my limits." Tyrion said with a dismissive look on his face, "Besides, this way he will leave us alone to our devices for a few days to have fun," he said with a sneaky smile in his eyes, "So take me to the brothels, and let us see if the Merchants of the Seven kingdoms have only brought their goods to sell or if they have brought their whores along too,"