Rhaego : The Child of Ashes

Chapter 82: The Missing Wolf

The solar overlooking Highgarden’s gardens was awash in the scent of roses. Open windows admitted the warmth of the afternoon and the distant murmur of fountains below, though neither did much to soften the mood within.

Lady Olenna Tyrell occupied the seat at the head of the table as naturally as if she had been born there. Beside her sat Margaery, newly returned and looking far healthier than she had any right to after her ordeal in King’s Landing.

Across from them were Princess Arianne Martell and Rhaego, she leaned against the edge of the table with effortless grace, while Rhaego stood slightly behind her, arms crossed, listening intently.

They had already spoken at length of Margaery’s imprisonment, the High Sparrow’s growing power. Yet as Olenna looked around the room, she found herself thinking not of the granddaughter she had regained, but of the grandson she had lost.

Or perhaps misplaced.

"Loras is not in the Red Keep," Olenna said bluntly.

"Nor is he rotting in the Sept of Baelor as we feared. My sources confirm he was ordered to retake Dragonstone."

Neither possibility improved her temper.

"Loras should have written by now."

Margaery’s smile faded almost at once.

For a moment the room grew quieter, broken only by the distant song of birds outside the open windows.

"He was sent to Dragonstone?," Margaery said carefully.

"Yes," Olenna replied. "Which is precisely why he should have written."

She plucked a grape from a nearby bowl and examined it with visible disappointment before setting it back down.

"A raven takes days, not moons. Yet somehow my grandson vanishes onto a damp rock in Blackwater Bay and forgets entirely that he possesses the ability to send letters."

Rhaego glanced toward Margaery.

"The assault itself was real, wasn’t it?"

Olenna snorted.

"Oh, undoubtedly. Cersei is foolish often enough, but she is not foolish in every direction at once."

Arianne leaned back slightly in her chair.

"You believe she wanted Dragonstone taken."

"And Loras removed from King’s Landing."

The old woman smiled without humor.

"The beauty of the plan is that it accomplished both. Dragonstone falls, the Redwyne fleet is freed to protect the Reach from ironborn raiders, and my grandson is conveniently nowhere near his sister when the Faith decides to drag her before half the city."

Margaery lowered her eyes.

No one disputed it.

The logic was difficult to argue against.

For all her faults, Cersei Lannister occasionally stumbled into effective schemes, usually by pursuing several petty goals at once.

The trouble was that Olenna had heard nothing from Dragonstone in far too long.

"I’ve received reports," she continued, tapping a finger against the table. "Conflicting reports. One claims the castle has fallen. Another insists the fighting continues. A third swears half the garrison surrendered while the other half drowned."

Her mouth tightened.

"None mention Loras."

That drew a faint frown from Arianne.

"And you fear something happened."

"I fear uncertainty."

Olenna’s eyes sharpened.

"At my age, uncertainty is often worse."

Rhaego was silent for all of three heartbeats before speaking, he shifted, his violet eyes thoughtful.

"If he’s at Dragonstone, I could fly there," he offered.

"Scout the situation and—"

"No."

Olenna’s voice was sharp as a blade, cutting him off instantly.

She stared at Rhaego as though contemplating whether it was possible to throttle a dragon prince with a tablecloth.

"You will do no such thing. One dramatic rescue was enough. No one yet knows a dragon is nesting among the roses, and I intend to keep it that way. If you fly openly to Dragonstone, you might as well paint a target on your back. A thousand men are with Loras. Even one sighting could ruin everything."

Rhaego opened his mouth, then closed it again, accepting the rebuke with a small nod.

Olenna Tyrell watched him for a moment longer, her fingers tapping lightly against the arm of her chair.

"Good," she said at last.

"Then that is settled. You will not go flying off to Dragonstone like some knight from a children’s tale. "

Olenna continued, her tone firm.

"Helping rescue my granddaughter was more than enough, as for the matter of my grandson—"

A faint snort escaped her.

"—Loras Tyrell is not made of glass. He is surrounded by knights of the Reach, sworn men of House Tyrell, and half the Redwyne fleet’s best captains’ kin. If the Stormlands think him easy prey, they will learn otherwise."

She leaned back slightly, expression flattening into something more practical.

"This concern for the Reach is appreciated. Your... involvement in retrieving my granddaughter was also appreciated."

A pause.

Not warm, not soft but unmistakably final in its meaning.

"The debt, if one exists, is already accounted for. We can deal with this through our own hands. You have already done your part."

Rhaego said nothing.

Arianne’s gaze shifted briefly to him, then back to Olenna, measuring the exchange the way she always did, like a blade testing the weight of another blade.

When she spoke, her tone was smooth.

"Then I am glad," she said, inclining her head slightly, "that we have agreed on matters of immediate concern."

Olenna’s eyebrow rose a fraction.

"And there are matters beyond immediate concern?"

Arianne did not hesitate.

"There are."

She folded her hands lightly in front of her, posture composed.

"I will not pretend this alliance exists only for one rescue, my lady. The Reach does not invest itself so lightly in the affairs of the dragon, or anyone else."

A flicker of interest passed through Olenna’s eyes.

Rhaego glanced toward Arianne, uncertain where she was going with this.

Arianne continued.

"A war against lions cannot be won by only two gardens and a spear. The realm is larger than the Reach and Dorne. The North must be accounted for as well."

The room went still.

Even Margaery, who had been quietly observing, lifted her gaze at the mention.

Olenna gave a short, almost amused exhale.

"The North?" she repeated.

Olenna leaned back, studying her with narrowed eyes.

"And how exactly do you propose we call upon the North? Last I heard, it is ruled by the Boltons, who are firmly in bed with the Lannisters?"

Arianne’s expression remained calm, though her eyes gleamed with purpose.

Rhaego remained silent beside Arianne, listening carefully. The North had always been the hardest piece in his mind.

"What happened to House Stark cannot simply be forgotten," Arianne continued. "Not by the people. Not by the lords who followed them for generations."

"Perhaps," Olenna said. "But a dead house inspires songs. A living heir inspires banners."

The room grew quieter.

Arianne’s eyes shifted slightly.

"That is why we need to know what happened to Sansa Stark."

Margaery, who had been silent for most of the conversation, looked down slightly at that.

Sansa Stark.

A girl she had once known and seen sitting beside Joffrey, smiling because she had learned she had no other choice. A girl who had been trapped inside a world of lions, lies, and knives.

Olenna noticed her granddaughter’s expression but did not comment.

Instead, she turned back to Arianne.

"And that is why you ask about the Stark girl."

It was not a question.

Arianne nodded.

"If she lives, she matters."

She glanced toward Rhaego.

"More than many realize."

The old woman sighed.

"Sansa vanished the day that king Joffrey died." Her fingers tapped lightly against the table. "Some believe she was murdered. Some believe she escaped. Some believe she was taken away before anyone realized."

"And what do you believe?" Arianne asked.

Olenna gave a humorless smile.

"I believe that when a clever man is absent during a moment of chaos, and a valuable piece disappears afterward, one should at least ask whether the two events are connected."

Arianne studied her carefully.

"You have someone in mind."

Olenna gave her a thin smile.

"I have suspicions."

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

She was not the sort of woman who threw accusations without knowing where they landed.

"There are men who survive in this world by seeing opportunities where others see disasters," Olenna continued. "Men who are always nearby when fortunes change. Men who collect secrets the way other men collect gold."

Rhaego’s expression hardened slightly.

"And you think one of those men took her?"

"I think," Olenna replied, "that if Sansa Stark is alive, she is unlikely to be sitting somewhere waiting for rescue."

The room became quiet again.

Because that was the truth of it. No clear path, only a missing girl and whispers.

Arianne looked toward Rhaego.

For the first time since the conversation began, uncertainty showed on her face. They had no clear path north. Only a missing girl and a trail of rumors.

Later, as Rhaego and Arianne prepared to leave the solar, Olenna walked with them through the gardens. The evening breeze moved softly through the roses, carrying their sweet fragrance across the winding paths.

Lanterns had begun to glow along the colonnades, casting warm pools of light against the deepening dusk.

"You remind me of my younger self," Olenna said suddenly to Arianne.

The princess looked amused, a faint smile curving her lips.

"That sounds either like a compliment or a warning." freewēbnoveℓ.com

"Usually both," Olenna replied without missing a beat.

She turned her sharp gaze toward Rhaego, studying him for a long moment as they walked.

"And you..."

Rhaego glanced back at her.

"Me?"

"You are either the greatest opportunity this realm has seen in generations..." Olenna paused, letting the words linger like a blade half-drawn.

"Or the most dangerous mistake."

Rhaego gave a small, weary sigh.

"I have heard that one before."

"I imagine you have," the old woman said dryly.

Olenna stopped beside the path, the roses swaying gently around them. She looked smaller in the evening light, yet somehow more formidable.

"Be careful, boy," she said, her voice low but carrying the weight of experience.

"Men will love you when they need you. Fear you when they understand you. And betray you when they decide you are too powerful to leave alive."

Her eyes shifted toward Arianne, sharp and knowing.

"And make certain you keep people around you who are willing to tell you when you are wrong."

Arianne raised an elegant eyebrow, a spark of amusement in her dark eyes.

"Was that advice for him... or an insult toward me?"

Olenna’s lips curved into a faint, wicked smile.

"Yes."

Rhaego actually laughed a rare, low sound that seemed to surprise even him. Olenna noticed, her gaze softening by the smallest degree.

"Good," she said quietly.

"What?"

"That."

She looked at him directly.

"Do not lose that."

Then she turned away, the evening breeze stirring the hem of her gown.