Olenna Tyrell watched from her perch on the balcony as her grandson received another whooping from his goodbrother - Loras was improving, but he still had some catching up to do, it seemed. She watched as Jon helped Loras back on his feet, the two of them grinning together. She caught the surreptitious glance Jon sent in their direction, and looked to her side, only to see Margaery too focused on her stitching to notice any looks sent in her direction. Down in the yard, Jon Stark's shoulders seemed to slump a little before he got ready for the next bout. Olenna looked at her granddaughter once more, spent a long, uncertain moment wondering how to broach this subject at all.
Olenna had not been many name days older when she had wed, but even she remembered what a difference a few name days made at that age. And for all that they had done their duty, Jon and Margaery had been too young. Had they been granted a few years, even a few moons, of courtship, things might have been different. Instead, Jon spent his time with Loras, seeming to hope against hope that Margaery might notice his feats and smile upon him, while
Margaery remained aloof and distant from the boy, tending the gardens, becoming accustomed to the household, sewing by Olenna's side and spending her evenings in Olenna's solar. It was high time Olenna figured out a way to untangle this mess. Thank the Gods she had stayed behind after the wedding.
Jon Stark was no knight, and surely that would have been Margaery's first strike against him. But some men did not need the title to embody the principles, and Olenna had no doubt that Jon would grow into that kind of man. That aside, things would not stay as they were forever. Sooner or later the spark would be lit that would propel the boy into the position the people closest to him seemed to have been grooming him for for years. And if he did not have a trueborn heir by then, it would be rumoured that it was because Margaery was unable to bear one. She could easily be set aside if things remained this tenuous between them. A situation like that would cost the Tyrells dearly, especially if Margaery managed to make the boy feel humiliated in some way or other. An heir was vital, and while Olenna could not tell her granddaughter why - in some cases, Olenna believed, it was more than right for a wife to know more than a husband, but with a relationship as fragile as this, it would only widen the gap - she still needed to somehow convey the importance. "He is a strong lad," she commented, watching as Jon disarmed Loras again, handing the sword back with a grin.
Olenna could almost see the deliberate effort he put into not glancing in their direction, and some compassionate part of Olenna's heart she had not realised still existed for people outside her family ached for him. But then, he was part of her family now, was he not?
"He is," Margaery replied, voice neutral.
"Do you dislike him?" Olenna asked. It was more direct than she would usually have been, but perhaps she had spent enough time with the Starks for them to have rubbed off on her. Or perhaps it was just that some part of her knew that what her granddaughter needed right now was not pretty words, but frank honesty.
Margaery gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "I do not know him, Grandmother," she said. "How could I possibly dislike him?"
"You have been wed for five moons," Olenna said. "If you feel you do not know him, that is no one's fault but yours."
At long last, Margaery looked up from her stitching, eyes flashing. "He avoids me," she said. "He avoids me at every turn. Not once since our wedding night has he come to my chambers. How am I meant to be wife to a husband who cannot even look at me?"
Olenna let out a breath, and suddenly the picture was all too clear to her. "Boys his age do not often make good husbands," she said. "What was your wedding night like, dear?"
Margaery gave another one of her delicate, well-bred shrugs. "Quick," she said at last.
Olenna nodded, strangely reassured. The fact that no harsh words seemed to have been spoken between husband and wife, at least, bolstered her. "As I said, boys his age do not often make good husbands. And the ones who could be good, they know their own faults all too well." She reached out, grasped her granddaughter's hand. "Women tend to become women before men become men, and you are moons older than him. I imagine the boy felt unmanned, and he does not know how to cope. As his Lady Wife, it is for you to teach him otherwise."