Sometime after the Two left, Damon Varys entered the room.
The Master of Whisperers bowed.
"Your Grace."
Damon never looked toward him.
"What do you think?"
Varys smiled faintly.
"Lady Olenna is considerably more dangerous than her son."
"I know."
"And yet," Varys continued carefully, "you offered her one of the highest offices in the realm."
Only then did Damon glance toward him.
"Why wouldn't I?"
Varys folded his hands into his sleeves.
"Many lords would object."
"They already object to dragons."
His answer was immediate.
"They objected to Aegon conquering them."
"They objected to Jaehaerys' reforms."
"They object to taxes."
"They object to breathing."
A slight smile tugged at Varys' lips.
Damon continued.
"If I spend my reign worrying about what old men think proper..."
"...I'll accomplish nothing."
The room fell quiet again.
Varys studied the young prince.
Almost every ruler he had ever known sought advisers they could command.
Damon...
Sought advisers capable of disagreeing with him.
That alone made him unusual.
Dangerously unusual.
"You believe she will accept."
"I believe she'll spend tonight convincing herself she shouldn't."
Damon leaned back.
"And tomorrow she'll convince herself she must."
"Because she enjoys winning too much to refuse the game."
Varys chuckled softly.
"A remarkable understanding."
Damon's violet eyes drifted toward the windows.
"I need competence."
Elsewhere...
The royal apartments prepared for the Tyrells were among the finest in the Red Keep.
Servants hurried back and forth carrying chests, fresh linen, wine, and warm meals.
Mace Tyrell collapsed into an enormous cushioned chair with an exhausted sigh.
"I still don't know what happened."
Olenna remained standing.
She walked toward the window overlooking Blackwater Bay.
Far above...
Caraxes circled lazily through the clouds.
His enormous crimson wings blotted out the afternoon sun for several moments before disappearing once more.
She watched him silently.
Mace finally spoke.
"Mother?"
No answer.
"You've hardly said a word since we left."
She continued watching the dragon.
Finally—
"Did you notice?"
"What?"
"He never once tried to impress us."
Mace blinked.
"...He has dragons."
"Exactly."
She turned.
"And because he has dragons..."
"...he no longer needs to."
That made Mace pause.
She continued.
"Every other lord I've ever met wanted something."
"They bragged."
"They threatened."
"They exaggerated."
"They promised."
She slowly returned to her chair.
"Damon did none of those things."
"He simply..."
"...stated facts."
Mace frowned thoughtfully.
"I suppose..."
"No."
She interrupted.
"You don't understand."
"When he offered me Master of Laws..."
"...he never tried convincing me."
"He assumed I'd see the opportunity myself."
"And worse..."
A tiny smile appeared.
"He was right."
Mace leaned forward.
"You aren't actually considering it?"
Olenna laughed.
"My dear boy..."
"I'm doing considerably more than considering it."
"You would truly leave Highgarden?"
"I wouldn't be leaving it."
"I'd simply spend time in King's Landing."
She picked up a cup of wine.
"The Reach governs itself well enough."
"And your wife is more than capable of handling court while we're absent."
Mace rubbed his chin.
"I still don't understand why he chose you."
"Oh, I do."
She smiled knowingly.
Even though Damon hadn't named Tywin Hand of the King, anyone with eyes could see that is where it was heading, and the facts Varys still lived already spoke volumes.
"He has Varys."
"He has Tywin."
"If he appoints another great lord..."
"...his council becomes a battlefield."
"But appoint me..."
She pointed toward herself.
"I owe allegiance to House Tyrell."
"Not to myself."
"I have influence without commanding armies."
"I understand politics."
"And unlike many men..."
"I rarely confuse pride with intelligence."
She took another sip.
"It is an excellent appointment."
Mace scratched his beard.
"You think he planned that far ahead?"
Olenna looked genuinely surprised.
"My son..."
"He planned far beyond that."
She set the goblet down.
"Consider the order."
"He secured Tywin."
"He kept Varys."
"Now he offers me Master of Laws."
"One lion."
"One spider."
"One rose."
"Each balancing the others."
"And all answering to dragons."
Mace slowly nodded.
"I hadn't thought about that."
"I know."
She smiled affectionately.
"You rarely do."
Silence lingered.
Eventually Mace asked the question truly bothering him.
"Mother..."
"Do you think he intends to marry Cersei?"
Olenna didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she looked once more toward the sky.
Caraxes had vanished beyond the clouds.
Dreamfyre, however...
Could now be seen gliding far beyond the city.
Graceful.
Almost beautiful.
Until one remembered what those jaws could do.
"I don't know."
She admitted honestly.
"Cersei is beautiful."
"House Lannister is wealthy."
"The match makes sense."
"But..."
She tapped one finger against the table.
"Damon doesn't strike me as a man who marries because someone tells him it's advantageous."
"He'll choose whoever best suits the future he wants."
"And until we understand that future..."
"...we cannot predict his choice."
Mace shifted uneasily.
"What sort of man do you think he is?"
Olenna's answer came quietly.
"The most dangerous kind."
He frowned.
"I thought Robert was dangerous."
"Robert was dangerous because he was strong."
"I thought Aerys was dangerous."
"Aerys was dangerous because he was mad."
She folded her hands.
"Damon..."
"...is dangerous because he thinks and plans; from the way he spoke and the things he knew, he has spies in the Reach, maybe even in Highgarden. That isn't something that can be done in days; no, he has been spreading his spies in his years as the second prince, it seems while the realm was watching Rheagar it really should of been watching the second prince. I wonder how pissed Dorne is knowing now they picked the wrong prince."
She remembered the confidence, the patience. The complete absence of insecurity.
Even while speaking with people decades older than himself...
He had never once tried proving himself.
He simply... Was.
That frightened her more than dragons.
Across the Red Keep...
Tywin Lannister stood inside his solar studying a map of Westeros.
Cersei entered quietly.
"The Tyrells have arrived."
"I know."
Tywin didn't look up.
"They met with Damon."
"I know."
She hesitated.
"How much do you think they'll support him?"
Tywin finally lifted his eyes.
"As much as possible. The Reach is arguably in the best position with our future king; they remained loyal, and Damon will be sure to reward them for it, and make sure the other houses know."
He rolled the map closed.
"Damon offering Olenna a council seat changes things, but it is also just the beginning."
Just a few hours had passed, and word had reached Tywin, as Damon had let the maids and knights spread little whispers to see how the old lion would react.
"Council seat?"
She blinked.
"A woman?"
"Master of Laws."
Even Cersei looked stunned.
"He'd actually do that?"
Tywin nodded once.
"He would."
"And that's precisely why I underestimated him."
Cersei slowly sat.
"What does it mean?"
"It means..."
Tywin answered calmly.
"...he isn't interested in appearances."
"He values usefulness."
"Nothing else."
She looked thoughtful.
"And me?"
Tywin regarded his daughter carefully.
"You remain useful."
"But understand this."
His voice became firmer.
"You are not the only woman in Westeros."
That stung.
She hid it well.
"You think he'll marry someone else?"
"I think..."
Tywin answered honestly.
"...he'll marry whoever strengthens his reign."
"If that is you..."
"Good."
"If not..."
"We'll have to rethink our plans, but as of now you are the best option available."
Cersei disliked that answer immensely.
Evening
The bells of King's Landing rang softly across the city.
Smoke from countless hearths drifted upward into the fading light.
Merchants packed away their stalls.
Children chased one another through narrow streets.
Life slowly returned.
Yet every few minutes...
Heads still turned upward.
Watching.
Waiting.
Because somewhere above...
Caraxes continued circling.
The city's eternal guardian.
Or its eternal executioner.
Depending entirely upon one's loyalty.
Within the Tower of the Hand...
Tywin watched the dragon through his window.
Behind him lay half-written plans.
Letters.
Trade agreements.
Lists of noble houses expected to be arriving soon.
More and more players were arriving; he had to do everything to secure his place.