King's Landing smelled exactly as he remembered.
The stench hit him the moment the walls had turned visible. The familiar cocktail of sewage, rotting fish, unwashed bodies, somehow worse than the cities that had been ruled by actual slavers.
It was surprising how quickly one got used to air not smelling like human waste and compost.
"The first thing I'm doing once I take over is to build a proper sewage system," he decided, ignoring the temptation to call Viserion and burn the city down. But, that would not be nice, as Viserion was currently guarding Sansa while she slept, both safely away from people.
Entering hadn't been difficult, as while there were multiple checks, they were targeting the people leaving the city, not entering. Dressed as a sellsword, the Gold Cloaks didn't even bother to stop him.
Nothing had changed, and everything had changed.
The last time he had walked these streets, he had been a squire with a handful of tricks and a desperate plan to escape. Now, he was a dragonlord, a governor, not to mention about to marry into two of the most important houses of Westeros at the same time.
Not bad for a lowborn bastard.
Yet, King's Landing was still the same. The hunger on the faces of the Flea Bottom residents was the same. The casual cruelty of the Gold Cloaks was the same. The glittering towers of the Red Keep looked down on the poverty below with the same indifference.
Some things, even dragons couldn't fix. Not quickly, anyway.
He moved through the streets with ease, the unsettled people not bothering to interact with him. It was understandable. It had been merely ten days since Joffrey's death — as it took a while for the news to reach Yunkai — and the people were yet to settle.
He didn't go to see Tyrion immediately, despite saving him being his most important objective. The moment he broke Tyrion out, the city would lock down, which would make a troubling issue.
Meaning, he needed to handle his other business first.
He made his way toward the wealthier districts, first staying on the streets, then climbing to rooftops when the streets got crowded, dropping to ground level when the heights became too exposed.
The Red Keep loomed ahead, its walls familiar. Entering had been easy, the benefit of spending weeks mapping its secret entrances carefully. It was a bit more than three months ago, but it felt like an eternity.
His first destination was Margaery. He wanted to see if she was alright, and still pregnant with his child. That would have a very significant impact on his next steps.
Luckily, Bloodhound and Varied Vision combined allowed him to track their location, and Hydrokinesis even more perfect to allow him to find them.
Luck was on his side, and he found Margaery talking with her grandmother in a private garden, walled on three sides by high hedges, open on the fourth to a view of the sea. Torches burned at the corners, casting warm light over a small table where two women sat, deep in conversation.
Even the closest guard was a hundred yards away, with no direct view.
The tall walls were no barrier to him, nor was sneaking to two women. Margaery looked exactly as he remembered, beautiful, composed, and dressed in a gown that managed to be both modest and devastatingly attractive. However, the cut of the gown was suspiciously loose.
Olenna Tyrell sat across from her, a cup of wine in hand that she sipped with the precise rhythm of a woman who had the absolute certainty that she was in full control.
He smirked, realizing just how much she reminded him of Ser Barristan. Her battlefield might be different, but she was just as much as expert in hers. It was the first time he was seeing her up close, as she had been one of the two figures in King's Landing that scared him shitless back then, the other being Varys.
Not anymore. It wasn't that he disrespected the power these two commanded, but back then, his strongest weapon was his secrets.
Not anymore.
It was why he approached Margaery from behind. He raised his hands toward Olenna to show he had no weapons, confident that she would not shout in panic, a confidence that didn't apply to Margaery.
Which was why he hugged Margaery from behind and put his hand to her mouth, suppressing a shout.
To her credit, she didn't try to scream for long, going rigid instead even as she looked at her grandmother.
He didn't let her go immediately, looking at Olenna Tyrell, curious exactly how she would react. To her credit, her panic didn't stay on the surface for long; immediately hid behind an expression of dismissal.
Her wine cup continued to rise toward her lips, her posture unchanged, her expression revealing nothing beyond mild interest. Too bad for her, he could easily read the way her fingers tightened on the stem of her glass.
Still, he had to admire the control. Most people, when a man appeared from nowhere, would react more. He didn't expect her to shout in fear, but her forced calm was even more impressive.
"You must be the bastard that impregnated my precious granddaughter," Olenna said, her voice dry as old parchment. "I expected someone shorter."
[Feat Achieved! Meet Queen of Thorns
+1x Bronze Random Gacha ticket]
He had to admire, he respected her gumption. She delivered those words as a cranky old woman, and not a careful test of his personality. It was something he would pull, though he only did when he had multiple escape routes prepared.
Rohar gave her what she wanted in the form of a roguish grin before he sat next to Margaery and pulled her onto his lap. "Did you miss me, beautiful?" he said.
Margaery shuffled, but her earlier fear turned into shock as she realized his identity. He gave her a second, caressing her belly while he turned to her grandmother. "Lady Olenna. The stories of your beauty are not wrong. Maybe I seduced the wrong Tyrell," he teased. An absurd compliment, considering she was old enough to resemble a particularly unappetizing raisin.
It earned a genuine laugh from Olenna.
[Feat Achieved! Earn the consideration of Queen of Thorns
+1x Silver Random Gacha ticket]
Interesting, he thought. Not the extra reward, but the fact that he was able to impress her. She was supposed to be famously hard to please. He knew it wasn't the compliment.
Maybe it was the ease with which he shrugged off her insult despite his rising position, as he knew most people got a little too touchy about their reputation.
She studied him the way a jeweler studies an unfamiliar stone, trying to determine if it was worth cutting. "You are either the bravest man in Westeros or the stupidest, coming back to King's Landing after your little stunt with the Stark girl."
"Well, I missed the mother of my child," he said smugly as he caressed Margaery's belly, feeling the resonance.
"Overconfident, but charming," she said. "It's no wonder my granddaughter seems to be taken with you after one meeting. You might actually have some talents other than your bedroom work. Explain yourself before I call the guards and collect whatever bounty the Lannisters are offering."
"Don't tell me Highgarden coffers are running low, old woman," he teased, even when Margaery looked at him, clearly still trying to process what had happened.
"Extra spending money doesn't hurt anyone," she responded.
Rohar leaned back, not bothered in the slightest. Olenna was testing him, trying to see where he would budge.
"Do you think Tywin would have a better time with the third try?" he said.
Olenna's lip twitched. "A fair point. So, tell me, boy, why are you here?" Her repeated use of boy was clearly another test, but joke was on you. It didn't even make in the worst hundred insults he had to live through.
"Well, multiple reasons, but the first one is to see how my pregnant paramour is," he said, kissing her neck. Their relationship might have been short, but he knew exactly how to play with her body to relax her. "How are you feeling, beautiful?"
Margaery's hand drifted unconsciously to her midsection. The gesture was tiny, barely visible. "I'm well," she said carefully, her eyes flicking to her grandmother, who was watching the situation between alertness and amusement.
"Good, because I would have hated to kill Joffrey myself," he said.
"Why didn't you?" Olenna asked.
He shrugged. "Assassinations are messy and cause more trouble than they are worth. Unless one has the perfect—" he started, then caught the satisfied glint in Olenna's gaze. "Damn it," he cursed.
"What's wrong?" Margaery asked.
"I just lost a bet," he said. "When we heard about the assassination, Sansa guessed that it was your grandmother."
That made Olenna raise her eyebrows. "She did?"
"Yes. She guessed that you would never let your precious granddaughter suffer," he said.
Margaery's eyes widened. "Wait? You poisoned Joffrey!" she gasped, her shock genuine.
"Of course. Do you think I would ever let that beast get his hands on you?"
Rohar nodded in appreciation while Margaery gaped.
Olenna paused for a moment, then smirked. "Still, I wouldn't have pegged that silly girl smart enough to guess. I must have underestimated her." Rohar shrugged, not really invested in defending Sansa. She was rather gullible back then, after all. "And, you don't seem to be concerned about poisoning."
"A dead man is a dead man. As long as you can handle the backlash, it's all there is," he admitted. "Not to mention, it gives you a perfect way to get an heir on the throne without tainting their blood with Joffrey's madness."
"It was … until you appeared. I suspect you're not here to check up on Margaery."
"True. How much do you know about what's going on in Slaver's Bay?"
Olenna let out a sigh that sounded genuine. "Not as much as I wish, considering there's too many conflicting stories. The only constant is that the Targaryen girl has three dragons, taking over two cities, and marching on the third."
"Mostly correct," he said. "Only, one of the three dragons is no longer in Essos," he said, even as he reached the small firepit and put his hand. Manipulating the fire to keep his hand safe was easy.
"A Targaryen," she said, her tone sharp, losing control. Then, she recovered. "I thought the fire immunity was a Targaryen myth," Olenna said, her voice carrying a different weight now. The skepticism was gone, replaced by the calculating interest of a woman who had just realized the game she was playing had changed.
"It's not a myth. But it's also not hereditary," Rohar said, sitting back down. "It comes from the bond. Bond with a dragon, and the dragon's nature becomes yours. Fire resistance, enhanced physical capabilities, and a few other things I won't bore you with."
He watched Olenna process the implications. He could practically see the gears turning behind those ancient eyes. Because a bond with the dragon didn't just imply the existence of dragons as dangerous animals, but firebreathing flying weapons that could be controlled perfectly.
Meaning, Daenerys wasn't an excited child playing the queen, and she was sitting across a dragonrider that could potentially burn Highgarden to the ground in a few years, yet too strong to be killed if Westeros traveled to Slaver's Bay, assuming they could even agree on it while the civil war was going on.
"Also, we're not sure if I'm a Targaryen. We just know that dragons love me. After all, there were other dragon lords in Valyrian Freehold, right?"
"True," Olenna said. "But that doesn't solve my problem, does it? You're still representing the single greatest threat to my family's position."
Rohar met her gaze without flinching. It was his turn to test her. "Oh, old lady. I think you're missing the point in your old age. I'm not threatening your family's position. On the contrary, I'm saving it."
"With what? Sweet words and a famous cock?"
"Not unless you want to join your granddaughter in bed," he responded, finding it strangely amusing to trade insults with the old lady. She seemed to enjoy it just as well. "But, there are other perks," he said.
"What, a silly girl at the same age as my granddaughter, invading our land with slave soldiers."
He just smirked. "Oh. Do you really think Daenerys has to return with an army to take over Westeros?" he asked.
"Enlighten me, then," she responded mockingly, but he could see that she was listening carefully.
"Well, let's start with something easy, and ignore all the potential Targaryen loyalists that's looking forward to some stability after they had been dealing with multiple idiots battling for a throne, and would look forward to the return of the dragons to vindicate their loyalty and promise safety at the same time," he said. "Instead, let's focus on the North."
"An empty tundra which lost most of its army, and is currently dealing with a rebellion," she said.
"True. But, with the historic exception of Boltons, they are famous for their loyalty, to the point of being called idiots," he said. "Any guesses how quickly they would fall in line when a dragon appears to save them, carrying the precious daughter of Ned Stark."
"Point," she said. "And, the army Roose Bolton has with him."
"Not even a concern," he replied. "All I need to take Moat Cailin from the ragtag Ironborn. Do you have any idea how much effort that's required to take that castle when it's defended by a dragon?"
"You're putting a lot of stock in a young dragon," she said.
"He's strong enough to fly from Slaver's Bay to here, faster than any raven to warn you or Varys about my sudden disappearance," he responded. "It doesn't even have to do much. It takes brave men to scale a wall. When that wall has a fire-breathing lizard… I wouldn't bet on the bravery of a traitor."
"You have a point," she said.
"Vale is even easier," he said. "Eyrie is impenetrable … for a land army," he said. "And, I suspect not many lords of the Vale are happy finding themselves being ruled by an upjumped merchant." She nodded again. "The Riverlands is a bit more complicated, I'll give you that, but a new Lord Paramount assigned by throne, who famously broke guest rights is hardly a challenge."
"It's not like the Freys were loved much before that as well," she admitted.
"Exactly," he said. "Do you think it would be for the better if I sent the Mountain's head to Dorne, or would they prefer him alive to go along with my letter promising Tywin's head in victory?"
"That leaves the Stormlands and us as the only barrier," she said.
"That's right," he said. "And, that moron Stannis does his best to alienate the Stormlands by burning people for his pet priestess. That leaves only one question. Does Highgarden want to go down with Lannisters."
"That's a lot of theory with little proof," Olenna said. "It'll take more than that to get Highgarden on your side."
He smirked. "Luckily for you, I don't actually need the Highgarden army. I just need the food. Make sure a small fleet of grain get lost toward the North. It's easy enough to play both sides, right?"
"Intriguing," she said. "What about a payment?" she said.
"A warning," he said. "I am about to steal the Valyrian swords that Tywin had melted from the Ice. You should probably leave King's Landing before it." He didn't reveal he was there to save Tyrion, as it might create unnecessary complications.
"Dangerous move," she said. "Tywin destroyed houses for less."
Rohar shrugged. "I'm used to escaping from Tywin's men. They are not that scary."
She paused. "I expected you to threaten me with revealing who killed Joffrey."
Rohar shrugged. "I'm not mean enough to snitch on my good-grandmother," he said, the implication clear.
"Oh, what about Sansa?" Olenna said.
"It's convenient that Targaryen's legalized having multiple Queens, right?" he said. "Don't you think a marriage that links Stark, Tyrell, and Targaryen blood has more value than a shaky throne? Especially since it comes with power over not only Westeros but Essos, maybe even expanding into Southeros."
That made Margaery shuffle despite her shocked silence, but he just caressed her, keeping her silent.
Meanwhile, Olenna paused. "You said that you don't know if you have Targaryen blood."
Rohar chuckled. "I ride a dragon. For Westeros, that's all the proof required to accept me as one. Even if you don't agree with the marriage, you can claim that the child is from Joffrey and make a move to take over the Westerlands. And, when it comes to blood, don't you think the blood of a dragonriding bastard has more value than the precious child of Cersei and Jaime Lannister?"
"What about Margaery?" Olenna said.
"What about my beauty," he said, kissing Margaery's neck. "Either she decides to stay 'unmarried' for the rest of her life while she reluctantly rules the Westerlands, or her husband wonders why he keeps having children despite losing his balls to a hunting accident," he said, sounding possessive.
He wasn't as possessive as he claimed, but he could see that Olenna was looking for a hook. The idea of him being infatuated with Margaery would give her the safety he wanted.
Not like it was a difficult thing to believe in.
"What if I go and warn Tywin about the sword?" Olenna said. He just smirked, not even bothering to answer her. Olenna chuckled, as the threat was clearly a weak test, as well as a way for her to establish some control.
He hummed. "I don't need an answer now. It's more of a courtesy call. I recommend that you get out of the city tonight, because tomorrow morning, Tywin would close the gates."
"It'll be suspicious," she said.
"I'm sure you can handle it easily," he said. "Or, your reputation is truly overblown."
She nodded. "True," she said. "But, that was just a preliminary talk. I expect you to visit Highgarden in a week for a proper discussion."
"It would be my honor," he replied as he stood up, kissed Margaery on the cheek, and walked to the wall. "Just make sure to leave the city immediately. Maybe arrange that Tywin sees that the sword is in place before you leave."
The old lady smirked viciously. He matched her smirk, blew a kiss to Margaery, and climbed the wall with ease.
As he departed, he came to a conclusion.
Olenna Tyrell was a delight.