Chapter 135: The Rose and the Thorn
Highgarden smelled of summer even when much of Westeros shivered beneath winter skies.
Warm air drifted through open windows. Roses climbed pale stone walls, their vines carefully trained around balconies and arches. Fountains murmured in the courtyards below, while servants moved through gardens that remained green through skill, wealth, and the mild climate of the Reach.
Inside one of Highgarden's private solar chambers, however, Lord Mace Tyrell looked as though winter itself had followed him south.
He entered carrying a thick bundle of trade reports beneath one arm.
The papers struck the table with a heavy slap.
"The North is stealing from us."
Lady Olenna Tyrell did not look up immediately.
She sat beside the window with a cup of tea in one hand, watching two gardeners argue quietly over the trimming of a rose hedge.
Across from her, Margaery worked upon a piece of embroidery. Loras stood beside a carved pillar, polishing the pommel of his sword with a cloth.
Olenna finally turned.
"How thoughtful of them," she said. "And what precisely have they stolen?"
"Our grain trade."
Mace pulled out a chair and sat heavily.
Olenna glanced toward the reports.
"Was the grain already purchased?"
"No."
"Was the gold already paid?"
"No, but it was expected."
Olenna took a slow sip of tea.
"Expected gold is not gold. It is a dream written inside a ledger."
Margaery lowered her eyes to hide a smile.
Mace noticed.
"This is not amusing."
"That depends entirely upon where one is sitting," Olenna replied.
Loras stepped closer to the table.
"How large are the losses?"
Mace spread several parchments before them.
"Large enough."
"That is not a number," Olenna said.
"Our merchants expected the North to purchase nearly twice this amount before the next winter stores were sealed."
She examined the figures.
"And they purchased less."
"Much less."
"Because White Harbor received grain from Winter's Heaven," Margaery said.
Mace looked toward her.
"Yes."
She placed her embroidery aside.
"Is their grain cheaper?"
"In many cases."
"Poorer quality?"
"No."
"Delivered late?"
Mace frowned.
"No."
"Then why should northern merchants continue buying ours?"
"Because they always have."
Olenna sighed.
"There speaks the great agricultural wisdom of House Tyrell."
Mace glared at her.
"The Reach has fed Westeros for generations."
"And believed that meant Westeros would never seek another kitchen."
Mace pointed toward the reports.
"Warehouses near Oldtown are holding grain that should already have sailed north. Merchants are lowering prices. Several captains have refused additional voyages unless we guarantee payment."
Loras leaned over the table.
"Can the grain not be sold elsewhere?"
"It can," Mace said. "But not at the same price."
"Then lower the price."
Mace stared at him.
"That would reduce profit."
"Yes," Olenna said. "That is generally what happens when someone else begins selling the same goods."
Mace ignored her.
"The northern market was reliable."
"It was dependent," Olenna corrected.
Margaery looked between them.
"And now it is not."
Olenna turned toward her granddaughter.
"Exactly."
Mace rubbed his temple.
"It is one kingdom beyond the Wall."
"No," Olenna said. "It is another choice."
He frowned.
"What difference does that make?"
"All the difference."
She set down her tea.
"For generations, northern lords feared two things whenever winter approached. Hunger and the price of avoiding it."
Loras nodded slowly.
"The Reach controlled much of the second."
"Precisely."
Olenna tapped the reports with one wrinkled finger.
"The North did not purchase our grain because they loved us. They purchased it because the alternative was empty stores."
"And now Jon Snow has provided another alternative," Margaery said.
Mace's mouth tightened at the name.
"That boy."
Olenna looked at him.
"That boy has persuaded half the Reach to rewrite its trade expectations without ever setting foot south of the Neck."
"He has not persuaded anyone."
"No?"
"He sold grain."
"Yes."
"At reduced prices."
"Yes."
"In large quantities."
"Yes."
"With reliable delivery."
"Yes."
Olenna leaned back.
"That is called persuasion when merchants do it."
Margaery studied one of the reports.
"How quickly did the shipments arrive?"
"Faster than ours could," Mace admitted reluctantly.
"Why?"
"The Titan."
Loras looked interested.
"The enormous ship."
"One enormous ship does not create an entire trade system," Olenna said.
Mace looked irritated.
"It carries enough grain to supply several northern houses."
"That is not what I meant."
Olenna turned toward Margaery.
"Tell your father what Winter's Heaven is selling."
"Grain."
"Beyond the grain."
Margaery thought carefully.
"Reliability."
Olenna smiled faintly.
"Continue."
"Speed."
"Yes."
"Preservation. If the reports are accurate, their grain and meat arrive with very little spoilage."
"Yes."
"And certainty."
Mace frowned.
"Certainty?"
Margaery looked toward him.
"Northern lords no longer need to wonder whether storms will delay southern fleets or whether Reach merchants will raise prices when winter worsens."
Olenna nodded approvingly.
"Lords fear hunger long before hunger arrives. Winter's Heaven is selling relief from that fear."
Loras folded his arms.
"That sounds more powerful than grain."
"It is," Olenna said.
Mace pushed the documents aside.
"Then we pressure White Harbor."
Olenna stared at him.
"With what?"
"Oldtown could increase docking charges on northern vessels."
"And?"
"Reach merchants could refuse favorable contracts with Manderly traders."
"And?"
"We could limit grain shipments entirely."
Olenna's expression became almost pitying.
Mace noticed.
"What?"
"Your plan is to punish men for no longer depending upon us by proving they were correct to seek another supplier."
"That is not what I said."
"It is exactly what you said, only with more expensive words."
Margaery covered another smile.
Mace leaned back heavily.
"If the North is allowed to shift all its trade toward Winter's Heaven, our influence will shrink."
"Then compete," Olenna replied.
"We are House Tyrell."
"An excellent observation."
"We do not chase northern merchants like market peddlers."
"No. Apparently, we sit in Highgarden and complain while someone else takes their gold."
Mace's face reddened.
Loras intervened before the argument worsened.
"What of Jon Snow's soldiers?"
Olenna turned toward him.
"There. A subject your father understands even less than trade."
Loras ignored the insult.
"The reports from White Harbor describe ten thousand elite soldiers."
Mace nodded eagerly.
"And twenty giants."
"Your father sees giants because they are tall," Olenna said.
Mace glared.
Olenna continued.
"I see ten thousand soldiers fed, armed, transported, housed, and disciplined far from their home."
Loras became more serious.
"That is harder than gathering an army."
"Much harder."
"Do you believe the reports?"
"Some."
"Which?"
"That the army was organized."
"Why that?"
"Because disorder cannot be hidden before thousands of witnesses."
Loras considered the point.
"Could Winter's Heaven threaten the Reach?"
"Every lord with armed men can threaten someone."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the beginning of one."
Olenna looked toward him.
"The better question is whether Jon Snow possesses any reason to threaten us."
"Not now."
"Then let us avoid generously providing him with one."
Mace scoffed.
"You speak as though he is equal to the great houses."
Olenna turned slowly.
"Do our ledgers care about his birth?"
"No."
"Do northern markets?"
"Apparently not."
"Do his soldiers?"
"No."
"Then his bastardy is useful only to men who prefer insults over understanding."
Mace looked displeased.
"He remains a bastard."
Olenna shrugged.
"And you remain loud. Yet here we all are."
Margaery laughed softly despite herself.
Mace gave her a wounded look.
"You encourage her."
"I do not require encouragement," Olenna said.
Loras examined another report.
"Jon Arryn's death complicates this."
The room's tone changed.
Mace nodded.
"Robert rides north."
"To name Eddard Stark Hand," Margaery said.
"Most likely," Olenna replied.
Mace looked toward her.
"You sound certain."
"Robert Baratheon does not move the royal court across half the continent merely to drink with an old friend."
"He might."
"He could drink with Ned more cheaply by summoning him south."
Loras pulled out a chair.
"If Ned becomes Hand, what changes for us?"
Olenna folded her hands.
"The king trusts Ned."
"Yes."
"The northern lords follow Ned."
"Yes."
"Jon Snow still calls Ned father."
Mace shifted.
"Winter's Heaven is independent."
"I did not say otherwise."
"Then Ned does not control it."
"No. Which may make his influence more valuable."
Margaery understood first.
"Jon is more likely to listen to Ned than to any southern lord."
Olenna nodded.
"And Robert is more likely to listen to Ned than to most of his council."
Loras frowned.
"That places Ned between the Iron Throne, the North, and Winter's Heaven."
"Exactly."
Mace waved one hand dismissively.
"Eddard Stark is too honorable to exploit that."
Olenna gave him a long look.
"Power does not cease to exist because the man holding it feels uncomfortable."
Margaery leaned forward.
"Tywin Lannister will have noticed."
"He noticed before your father finished complaining about the first lost shipment."
Mace bristled.
"There is no reason to bring Tywin into this."
"There is every reason," Olenna replied. "The crown owes House Lannister a fortune. Cersei is queen. Joffrey is heir. Lannister men fill parts of King's Landing."
"And still Robert rides north for a Stark," Loras said.
Olenna nodded.
"That insult will not be lost on Tywin."
Mace looked faintly pleased.
"Good."
"Do not look so satisfied. An offended lion is rarely good for anyone standing nearby."
Margaery looked down at the reports.
"What should the Reach do?"
"Adapt."
Mace groaned.
"You say that as though it is simple."
"It is simple. It is not easy."
Olenna began counting possibilities.
"Improve grain storage."
Mace frowned.
"Our storage is excellent."
"It is excellent by the standards of men who did not have competitors."
She raised another finger.
"Reduce spoilage during shipping."
"Ships lose goods."
"Then lose fewer."
Another finger.
"Lower unnecessary fees placed upon merchants."
"Those fees fund the ports."
"Some fund the ports. Others fund officials who enjoy silk."
Mace looked away.
"Diversify exports," Olenna continued. "Wine, fruit preserves, medicinal plants, high-quality horses, fine cloth, skilled craftsmen."
Loras leaned forward.
"You wish to trade with Winter's Heaven?"
"I wish to discover what it buys."
"They already possess grain, timber, iron, livestock, and gold," Mace said.
"Every kingdom lacks something."
"What could they possibly lack?"
Olenna gave him a thin smile.
"That is why intelligent people ask questions before making offers."
Margaery studied her grandmother.
"You do not want to oppose them."
"I want to profit from them."
"And prevent them from replacing us entirely."
"That too."
Mace looked doubtful.
"We know almost nothing about their internal economy."
"Then we learn."
"Their kingdom cannot be found."
"We do not need to find it."
Margaery nodded.
"Trade representatives must come to White Harbor."
"Precisely."
Olenna turned toward her.
"Find the men who speak with them. Merchants. Dockmasters. Manderly stewards. Returned envoys."
Mace shifted uneasily.
"Spies?"
"Merchants," Olenna said. "Spies ask secrets. Merchants ask prices."
Loras smiled.
"Sometimes they are the same men."
"Only when properly trained."
Mace stared at the reports.
"There may be another way to secure influence."
Olenna looked toward him with immediate suspicion.
Whenever Mace spoke in that tone, he had usually mistaken ambition for cleverness.
"What way?"
He glanced toward Margaery.
The room became still.
Margaery noticed.
Loras noticed.
Olenna certainly noticed.
"No," Olenna said.
Mace frowned.
"I have not said anything."
"You looked at Margaery while discussing alliances. I have known you since before you could fasten your own breeches."
"I was only considering possibilities."
"Margaery's path is not beyond the Wall."
Margaery remained composed.
Loras leaned back, hiding amusement.
Mace spread his hands.
"Jon Snow is young, unmarried, and—"
"And not the Iron Throne," Olenna interrupted.
The words landed firmly.
Mace fell silent.
Olenna's eyes rested upon Margaery.
"Your daughter is one of the greatest political assets House Tyrell possesses."
Margaery did not react outwardly.
She had heard the truth expressed in gentler forms before.
Olenna continued.
"We have not spent years educating her, presenting her at court, building friendships, and cultivating admiration so that you can send her to an unknown kingdom beyond the Wall because a few grain prices displeased you."
Mace looked offended.
"I would never trade my daughter merely for grain."
"No. You would trade her for a crown."
"That is different."
"It is more ambitious."
Margaery spoke calmly.
"Father wants me tied to the Iron Throne."
Mace looked toward her.
"You deserve to be queen."
Olenna took up her tea again.
"Deserving has very little to do with crowns."
Mace continued.
"Robert's line sits upon the throne. Joffrey will inherit."
Loras's expression became slightly guarded.
Olenna noticed but did not comment.
"The alliance with the crown would place House Tyrell at the center of the realm," Mace said.
"We are already one of the realm's greatest houses," Olenna replied.
"And we could be greater."
"There is always a cliff beyond the next hill when ambition leads the way."
Mace ignored her.
"Margaery is beautiful, gracious, educated, loved by the people—"
"She is sitting here," Margaery reminded him gently.
Mace paused.
"Yes."
Loras smiled.
Olenna looked toward her granddaughter.
"What do you think?"
Margaery answered carefully.
"I think Father has always wanted the Reach joined directly to the throne."
"And what do you want?"
Mace looked toward Olenna sharply.
"That is not—"
"It was not addressed to you."
Margaery remained calm.
"I want House Tyrell secure."
"A proper answer," Olenna said. "And therefore not the entire answer."
Margaery allowed a faint smile.
"I would rather become queen in King's Landing than disappear into a kingdom no southern court can even locate."
Mace looked pleased.
Olenna's expression remained thoughtful.
"Good."
Loras asked:
"Then Jon Snow is not considered at all?"
"As a husband for Margaery?" Olenna replied. "No."
Mace nodded decisively.
"She is meant for greater things."
Olenna glanced toward him.
"Do not mistake distance from the Iron Throne for lack of greatness."
Mace looked confused.
"You just rejected the match."
"I rejected wasting our strongest marriage alliance on a man whose ambitions, succession, religion, court, and foreign policy we barely understand."
"That sounds like lack of confidence in him."
"It is lack of information."
Margaery listened closely.
Olenna continued.
"Jon Snow may become one of the most powerful rulers in the world."
Mace raised an eyebrow.
"Then why—"
"Because power is not the same as usefulness to House Tyrell."
The room quieted.
"Our goal," Olenna said, "is influence over the Iron Throne."
Margaery nodded.
"A marriage to Jon would move our influence away from King's Landing."
"Yes."
"It could also make the crown suspicious."
"Yes."
"And weaken our chance of joining the royal line."
"Exactly."
Mace leaned back.
"So we agree."
Olenna sighed.
"Occasionally, even a broken cart reaches the correct village."
Loras laughed.
Mace glared at him.
Margaery returned her attention to the documents.
"Then we approach Winter's Heaven through trade, not marriage."
Olenna smiled.
"Now you sound like a Tyrell."
Mace frowned.
"She already is a Tyrell."
"You would be surprised how often that requires reminding."
Loras picked up a report describing cement deliveries.
"What of this?"
"Cement," Margaery said.
"White Harbor is using it for roads and warehouses."
Olenna nodded.
"And walls?"
"Possibly."
Mace looked interested despite himself.
"Could it strengthen Highgarden?"
"It might strengthen any castle," Loras said.
Olenna looked toward him.
"And that is precisely why we should learn the price before every other house begins buying it."
Mace tapped the parchment.
"We could secure an exclusive contract."
"No," Olenna said.
"Why not?"
"Because Winter's Heaven has already avoided such agreements."
"How do you know?"
"Because it still trades with several northern houses rather than making itself dependent upon one."
Margaery nodded.
"Jon does not want another kingdom controlling access to his goods."
"Nor should we want him controlling access to all of ours," Olenna replied.
Mace's expression darkened.
"Then what leverage do we possess?"
Olenna looked toward the gardens outside.
"Climate."
Mace blinked.
"What?"
"Winter's Heaven may grow food through methods we do not understand, but the Reach possesses crops, fruits, herbs, flowers, wines, and animals adapted to lands very different from theirs."
Margaery understood.
"Goods they may not produce easily."
"Yes."
"Luxury goods," Loras said.
"Not only luxury."
Olenna counted them.
"Medicinal herbs. Seeds. Orchard varieties. Specialized horses. Fine textiles. Skilled vintners. Artisans."
Mace slowly nodded.
"They have wealth."
"And wealthy kingdoms eventually desire more than survival."
Margaery smiled faintly.
"They begin desiring beauty."
Olenna looked toward her approvingly.
"And the Reach knows how to sell beauty."
The afternoon light moved slowly across the solar.
Outside, gardeners continued cutting roses.
Inside, the Tyrells began to see the shape of a different strategy.
Not threats.
Not marriage.
Not wounded pride.
Trade.
Competition.
Information.
Influence.
Mace gathered several documents together.
"I will send representatives to White Harbor."
"Quietly," Olenna said.
"Official representatives should not move quietly."
"Then send merchants before envoys."
Margaery added:
"And tell them not to ask where Winter's Heaven is."
Mace looked toward her.
"Why?"
"Because everyone asks that."
Olenna smiled.
"A predictable question receives a prepared answer."
Loras nodded.
"What should they ask instead?"
Margaery considered.
"What goods sell fastest?"
Olenna nodded.
"What goods their representatives purchase for themselves," she added.
Loras looked interested.
"Why does that matter?"
"Because official trade reveals policy. Personal purchases reveal desire."
Mace stared at the three of them.
Then he looked down at the reports.
"What does Winter's Heaven need?" he asked.
Olenna lifted her cup.
"There. At last. A useful question."
Mace chose to ignore the insult.
Loras moved toward the door.
"I have training."
"Try not to challenge any four-kilometer ships," Olenna called after him.
Loras smiled over his shoulder.
"I make no promises."
He left.
Mace gathered his papers.
"I will speak with the stewards."
"And instruct them to verify every figure," Olenna said. "No songs. No tavern stories. No frightened sailors claiming they saw sea monsters beneath the Titan."
Mace nodded.
He paused near Margaery.
"You understand that I seek only what is best for you."
Margaery smiled gently.
"I know, Father."
"You would make a magnificent queen."
Olenna muttered:
"Preferably before we all die of age waiting for your plans to succeed."
Mace glared at her.
Then he left.
The door closed.
Only Olenna and Margaery remained.
For a while, neither spoke.
Margaery picked up her embroidery again but did not resume working.
"Do you believe I could become queen?"
Olenna looked toward her.
"You could."
"That is not the same as saying I will."
"No."
Margaery traced one finger over the pattern in the cloth.
"Father speaks as though the Iron Throne is waiting for us."
"Your father speaks as though every banquet is prepared in his honor."
Margaery smiled.
Then her expression grew thoughtful.
"And Jon Snow?"
Olenna's eyes sharpened slightly.
"What of him?"
"You dismissed marriage immediately."
"I did."
"Because he is unsuitable?"
"No."
"Because Winter's Heaven is too distant?"
"Partly."
"Because Father wants the Iron Throne?"
"Mostly."
Margaery looked toward the windows.
"If he truly becomes as powerful as the reports suggest…"
"Then he will become useful as a trade partner, dangerous as an enemy, and inconvenient as a husband."
Margaery laughed softly.
"Inconvenient?"
"Marriage to him would make you queen of Winter's Heaven."
"Yes."
"And remove you from the court where the fate of the Seven Kingdoms is decided."
"Unless Winter's Heaven begins deciding it."
Olenna studied her granddaughter.
A slow smile appeared.
"Good."
Margaery raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"You are thinking beyond the obvious."
"Is that not what you taught me?"
"It is. I enjoy seeing lessons survive."
Margaery looked down.
"Would you ever reconsider?"
"If the Iron Throne ceased to be the greatest prize available."
The words surprised her.
Olenna leaned closer.
"But we are not there yet."
"No."
"Robert lives. Joffrey is heir. The crown is indebted, unstable, and surrounded by ambitious fools."
"That sounds dangerous."
"It sounds promising."
Margaery smiled.
Olenna picked up the final trade report.
"Jon Snow is not our marriage target."
"No."
"He is not our enemy."
"No."
"He may become our competitor."
"Yes."
"And perhaps our customer."
Margaery nodded.
Olenna looked again at the numbers.
"Find out what Winter's Heaven lacks."
Margaery's expression grew curious.
"And if it lacks nothing?"
Olenna smiled.
"Every ruler lacks something."
"What does Jon Snow lack?"
"That," Olenna said, "is what makes him interesting."
Outside, the roses moved gently beneath the warm wind.
Far to the north, grain from Winter's Heaven continued entering White Harbor.
Prices shifted.
Merchants changed routes.
Ledgers were rewritten.
No armies had marched into the Reach.
No threats had been delivered.
No banners had been raised against Highgarden.
Yet House Tyrell had felt the first pressure of a kingdom that had never asked permission to reshape the markets of Westeros.
Olenna finished her tea.
"Send word to our merchants."
Margaery rose.
"What shall I tell them?"
Olenna looked toward the trade reports.
"Do not ask what Winter's Heaven possesses."
Her eyes sharpened.
"Ask what it still desires."
End Chapter 135
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