olenna tyrell

77. matriarch, editor, mother, grandmother. i know more about the business of news than you could ever hope to learn.

[matriarchofthorns]

the boys are too refined [closed: olenna and margaery] [september 20]

[margy-tyrell]

Margaery shivered as Pyp stood on the doorstep and pulled her in close dropping a fluttering of light kisses down the column of her neck. She knew he only did it because he liked the way she gripped his hair when he did and the thought made her push him away. Grinning as he pouted at her from the corridor she warned him he was going to be late for work before she pushed the door to. Giving herself a moment she leant against the dark wood and buried her face in her hands; she needed to pull herself together. 

She is about to make her way to the kitchen when there is a distinctive knock on the door and Margaery feels her stomach sink. Looking around the flat she straightens what she can before checking her reflection in the mirror. Patting at her hair she pinches her cheeks to try and cover the distinct shade of pale she has suddenly gone. By the time she answers the door she looks as composed as possible.

Smiling at Olenna she bent down to kiss her grandmother on the cheek, “Good Morning, Gran.” She says her smile a little too tight as she stands back from the door and lets Olenna in. She feels a little sick as she spots one of Pyps hoodies hanging over the arm of the sofa. She could explain it away as Tommens, or Jojens?

[matriarchofthorns]

It takes a moment too long for Margaery to open the door. Olenna has just enough time to panic, thinking she's missed her, when the door opens and she sees her granddaughter standing before her. Margaery leans in to kiss her cheek as she greets her and Olenna leans in politely. "Good morning, dear. Is everything alright?" Margaery pulls back and Olenna pinches her mouth in concern. "It's a bit early to look so stressed already."

Of course, she can't say she blames her granddaughter. Everyone in the family is stressed, all the time, especially lately. With everything that is happening in the city and the country, it's a wonder each of them is able to maintain any semblance of control. Olenna is proud of them, truly; she has decided to remain in London out of concern as well as a sense of need to control what might go wrong in the future, but other than the few major mishaps they've seen so far, the Tyrell family isn't suffering as much as she would have expected.

She hopes, soon, that they can stop suffering altogether.

Her granddaughter lets her into the flat and Olenna steps over the threshold. A black jumper catches her eye almost immediately; it's draped over the arm of the couch haphazardly and doesn't look familiar to her. She arches a brow. "Has that boy never been taught how to clean up after himself? I know the Lannisters are wealthy, but I never thought they were lazy."

[matriarchofthorns]

the boys are too refined [closed: olenna and margaery] [september 20]

The city is quiet today. Olenna wakes early and sits by the window, watching as the street starts to come to life. She gently nurses a cup of tea and a small scone, the pastry crumbly and almost too sweet for so early an hour. She intends to see her granddaughter today; the last week has been packed full of uncomfortable conversations and harsh realities. Spending a few hours with Margaery will hopefully be less stressful, less difficult. Olenna has never liked to play favorites with her grandchildren, but as Margaery is Mace's only girl, she holds a special place in Olenna's heart.

She waits until the sun has risen fully to dress and ready to leave, informing her driver that she'll be needing to leave soon. Like her, Margaery is an early riser; Olenna suspects her granddaughter is up and about already, and she wants to catch her before she leaves for the day. Now that Margaery is no longer at TMC, it's uncomfortable for Olenna to infringe on her time at work. There's no way to disguise the visit as business-related, really, and Olenna doesn't like to give the impression that she is in any way influencing Margaery or Renly or the work they both are doing. Given the current political climate, it's best for Olenna to appear as detached as possible from everything that isn't directly related to the company.

By the time she arrives at Margaery's building, the city is starting to buzz like it always does. A handsome young man with a gruff demeanor holds the door for her, which Olenna acknowledges with a nod and a very small smile. He stares at her a bit too intensely for her liking, and she resists the urge to make eye contact. It seems odd, to her, to see someone like him in a neighborhood like this one. She shakes off the thought as she enters the building, taking the elevator up to Margaery's floor to save her knees the climb.

She knocks on the door and folds her hands in front of her, straightening her shoulders. When her granddaughter opens the door, Olenna smiles just enough to crinkle the corners of her eyes. "Good morning, dear. Mind if I come in?"

[matriarchofthorns]

been through the wringer a couple times [closed: olenna and loras] [september 14]

[ink-and-cigarettes-blog]

Loras felt like a kicked dog. He wanted to go and sit in a corner with his tail curled underneath him as he listened to his grandmother reprimand him for his eating habits and his ‘tone’. He wasn’t aware he had any tone. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to eat, it was that his stomach had stopped him from doing just that. Weeks of stress and tension had made it difficult to get anything down, and when it did go down, his guts churned and grumbled for hours until he managed to shit out what felt like a brick. Soon eating fell to the wayside in favour of worrying about things he could control and didn’t make him feel like utter crap.

 He felt like he was walking to his death as she mentioned the fact that they were going to have a conversation. A small, naive part of him hoped that she was just coming to see how he was, and she’d let off on him for a little while. But that wasn’t the case, it seemed. She wanted to dump everything on his lap as soon as she could, and it was with great apprehension that he went to order them some sushi. Him telling Renly to go off for an hour to do some shopping suddenly became a very, very bad idea. He was willing to admit to himself that he’d really like a hand to hold right now.

 Returning to the living room once the order had been placed, he glanced down at her as she sat on one of his more comfortable chairs (thank god), and nodded in agreement. Flopping down on the couch across from her, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “We’re committed and loyal, alright. I just… sometimes I think it’d be better if we weren’t so close. I feel like a piece of me breaks off and wilts whenever I’m away from him… can’t be healthy, can it? I mean, suffering from so much anxiety over just a few days of separation?” It was then that he realized he hadn’t offered her a drink. Sitting upright, he smiled tightly. “Sorry, I forgot to ask if you would like something to drink? I only have water, tea and coffee, unfortunately. And no milk for the coffee or tea.”

[matriarchofthorns]

He didn't speak as he left the room. Olenna pursed her lips into a thin line and looked around, taking in the space her grandson and his husband occupied. The space felt lived-in, but also stale; she attributed that to the stress the entire family -- the entire country -- was experiencing. She wondered what would have happened if she had announced she was visiting before her arrival; the place would certainly be cleaner, if Loras had agreed to meet with her at all. All of her grandchildren were flighty when they wanted to be -- Olenna knew better than to expect them to want her around all the time. She loved her grandchildren, but she also had to keep them in line. The family name required it. She refused to allow the reputation she and Luthor had built for the Tyrells to be completely destroyed by careless mistakes.

Of course, the ship was sinking in spite of her best efforts. The more her family acted out, the less people trusted and regarded them the way they had for the last several decades. Olenna knew it was unfair to bombard Loras with this discussion so soon after his release from custody, but they didn't have time to waste.

Loras returned to the room and quite literally flopped onto his couch. Olenna arched an eyebrow as he pinched his nose between two fingers, the look on his face one of agony. "I think, given the circumstances, a bit of separation anxiety is warranted." She sat up a little straighter and cleared her throat, giving him a pointed look. He was utterly sprawled across the couch; it was uncouth. "However, it might be good for you both to immerse yourselves in activities not directly related to each other. For the good of yourselves, as well as your relationship. Too much time together can be as detrimental as not enough."

He sat upright and she almost smiled, thinking he'd understood her body language. But then he grimaced and asked if she wanted a drink, anxiously stumbling over the invitation. Olenna held up a hand. "I'm alright, thank you. No need to look quite so frightened, Loras." She took a deep breath. "I'm not here to interrogate you, especially given your ordeal." Her expression tightened. "I must precede this conversation, however, by asking you what you were thinking."

[matriarchofthorns]

been through the wringer a couple times [closed: olenna and loras] [september 14]

[ink-and-cigarettes-blog]

 She was already scrutinizing him. Loras thought that maybe she’d give him at least a day or maybe even two, to get things back together again. Instead he was given an evening and a morning in which to straighten everything and make them immaculate, just like how she liked things to be. Only he couldn’t do that, and he was left feeling exposed as she stared too long at his knobbly elbows, and peered at his sunken in cheeks. Renly had done much the same, and the expressions they wore were almost identical— a mix of fear and pity.

 Loras hated it.

 ”It’s not his fault, Gran…” he said as he headed to the closet near the door. Pushing open the door, he managed to find a free hook that was not taken up by one of Renly’s many jackets, and tucked it neatly away. Turning back around, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I hadn’t been eating well before I was arrested. I just.. haven’t been very hungry. Stressed and tired, I suppose.”

 Her suggestion of more food and chatting made Loras want to retreat to the safety of his room. Climb under the covers and hide from her wrath for at least one more day. She couldn’t at all be pleased with what had happened, and he didn’t think he’d be able to deal with her disappointment on top of everyone else’s. Besides, talking lead to confessions which lead to pressure which lead to therapy and admitting defeat and everything else he was not prepared to do. But she’d shown up reminding Loras he was a Tyrell, and he was expected to fulfill certain duties. Including lunching with her and facing things head on like a grownup.

 ”Lunch sounds good. What did you feel like? I’ll order while you take a seat.” He lead her to the living room and was glad to see it, too, did not look too bad. A bit dusty and not very well lived in, but still, there wasn’t anything incriminating lying around. He couldn’t deal with her ‘tsking’ over his housekeeping skills on top of everything else. “And Renly’s gone off to pick up some things from the shops. He shouldn’t be too long…”

 Loras practically had to shove him out of their flat to go and get some milk, Renly was so paranoid about leaving him alone.

[matriarchofthorns]

He sounded exhausted; Olenna felt a surge of protectiveness well up inside her at his tone, but the underlying irritation in it also made her pause. She realized Loras had been through a very trying ordeal, one that had come sharp on the heels of a summer that tested the strength of his relationship, his character, and his convictions. He hardly deserved to be taken into custody on false charges for merely having an opinion, but by the same token, Olenna knew that her grandson tended to be crass and too volatile. His maturity waned when what he believed in came under attack and it was difficult for him to reconcile his need for attention and vengeance with the ever-present need to be diplomatic in times of war. Make no mistake, England was at war: with itself, with its politics, with its leaders, its people, and its core values. Olenna feared for the future of her beloved homeland more than she was willing to let on.

"I hardly think you need to take that tone with me, young man," she said quietly, the sharpness in her voice tempered only by the volume. He returned from hanging up her coat and she stared at him for a long moment, wondering how to approach the conversation they needed to have. "I understand the lack of desire to eat when the entire world seems to be falling apart around you, but it's important. Without your health, you have nothing to stand on." Luthor had told her much the same on more than one occasion. Olenna was the first to sacrifice the things that kept her going, mentally and physically, when she felt that she couldn't control certain elements of her world. But it was a bad habit to fall into; without those strengths, all others went out the window.

"Something fresh, please," she said, after mulling over his question. "I hardly think heavy food will serve either of us, given the circumstances of this meeting." She arched an eyebrow and followed him into the living room, glancing around with a slightly less critical eye than usual. She had been raised in a household of people obsessed with cleanliness and had maintained that aspect of her childhood even after she and Luthor had earned enough money to hire a full staff to take care of Highgarden. But Olenna knew that with privilege came laziness, often in this form: Loras' flat was hardly immaculate. She kept her features neutral and made no comments, though she did make a point of brushing off the chair cushion before she sat down, just in case.

"I suspect he wasn't keen to leave you," she said, looking up at her grandson. "You seem to be quite dependent on each other." A very small smile curled the corners of her mouth upward and Olenna did nothing to stop it. "Moving forward, I hope you both hold onto that. Love and loyalty are hard to find in times of unexpected fascism."

[matriarchofthorns]

been through the wringer a couple times [closed: olenna and loras] [september 14]

[ink-and-cigarettes-blog]

 It was a good thing Loras had decided to go sit out on his balcony.

 After having been locked up for a week, spending time outside had been somewhat of a treat. Renly had gone round to the shops to buy some milk for their tea, and so Loras had decided to go stand out on the balcony and stare out across the way at the other apartment across from him. The streets were barely populated at all, people preferring to spend the afternoon either at work or indoors. It was a bit crisp outside, fall weather beginning to slip into the once muggy summer weather, but that did not stop Loras from spending his little break in nothing but his underwear.

 Until he saw his grandmother role up. Seeing a nice car roll up along the streets of Camden was nothing new, but seeing a very familiar shock of white hair come out of said car in Camden— well, that was something to worry about. The last time Loras had seen his gran was when she’d come to visit him for about two minutes when he was in custody. She hadn’t been happy then, and he highly doubted she was coming up to tell him how happy she was to see him out and about (if out and about included crying in his room in a pair of superman underwear).

 He’d managed to frantically run into his room, pull on a pair of pants, and half get a t-shirt on when there was a crisp knock at the door. Hurrying down the hallway, he slipped his shirt all the way on before swinging the door open. He tried to plaster on a cheery grin when he saw her, but it ended up just being a weak half-smile. “Hullo, Gran.” Stepping to the side, he let her inside, hoping she didn’t expect for his flat to be spotless. Neither he nor Renly really had time to clean it up to ‘Highgarden Standards’, and so there were papers on the coffee table and mugs still sitting in the drying rack. Closing the door, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as he took her light jacket.

 ”Did you want any tea?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light and cheerful. He didn’t want to alert her to the fact that he was feeling quite crap at the moment.

[matriarchofthorns]

Loras sounded utterly defeated when he greeted her. His hair was a mess, his t-shirt was wrinkled, and his trousers looked as though they were barely clinging to his waist. Olenna looked her grandson up and down, lips pursing as she noticed just how truly skinny he'd become in just a few days. He had always been thin, almost waif-like at times; but to see him like this, skin and bones in baggy clothes, made her worry. She didn't know what he'd been doing during his time incarcerated, but she knew that she had never seen one of her own kin look so starved for a good meal.

The tone of his voice when he greeted her was utterly defeated, as well. Olenna stepped into the flat when Loras moved aside and glanced around, noticing that it was cleaner than the last time she'd been there but still not up to the standards she would set on her own living quarters. High Garden had a full time staff to keep it looking pristine, though Olenna had been known to pick up a feather duster or two in her life. It wasn't unheard of for her to vacuum or mop in her younger days, either; she wondered whether Loras hired a maid service or cleaned the flat himself. Then she remembered Renly's presence and wondered if the two of them might have simply... forgotten, given everything that had been going on.

"It seems freedom hasn't put any more meat on your bones," she said, leaning into him when he kissed her cheek. She let him take her coat --light, colorful, the perfect accessory for a crisp fall day -- and moved further into the flat so he could close the door. "Isn't that husband of yours feeding you?"

Olenna's opinion of Renly had shifted only slightly this summer, when it had been revealed to her just how much trouble he'd had recovering from his accident in July. But she had still been impressed with the way Loras had stayed with him, with the way Renly had turned things around as quickly as they'd fallen into darkness. Olenna knew the kind of strength it took to love someone in even the toughest phases of their life -- she was a little awed to see that kind of strength in her grandson, as supercilious as he could often be.

"Tea would be lovely, dear, but maybe we could order lunch and have a chat?" She offered a small, careful smile. "Is Renly around, or have you sent him off to do your bidding all day?"

[matriarchofthorns]

been through the wringer a couple times [closed: olenna and loras] [september 14]

The more time Olenna spent in London, the more she realized just how blissful life at Highgarden truly was. The city was in tatters, politically, and the people were restless in a way that she hadn't seen in decades. She'd been in love with this city since she was a girl, but now it no longer resembled the place she and Luthor took by storm so many years ago. Given the current political climate, however, she knew better than to voice her opinions aloud. Olenna had always been careful about revealing her loyalties in public, a skill that (unfortunately) not everyone in her family possessed.

Of course, voicing a vitriolic opinion had never landed any of her predecessors in jail before. It took too much maneuvering to release Loras from his makeshift cell, especially given that if he had been smarter about his behavior, he wouldn't have ended up in one. Simultaneously, that maneuvering put the Tyrells and their allies into tentative positions of power that Olenna knew would be helpful, ultimately. It was a difficult, fragile situation. She only hoped that remaining in London would offer her the chance to help see her family through it without any of them ending up with too many irreparable scars.

She opted to give Loras and his husband a few hours of reprieve before arriving at her grandson's flat to speak with him. Though she'd seen Loras briefly when he was in custody, she'd not been able to stay long. Her grandson had looked too thin and too angry, his attitude hardly improved by the fact that he was under guard for something he didn't do. But it had been almost a full day since he'd been released and she wanted to see him, to check in on him and discuss the current situation.

Her driver picked his way through the city streets while Olenna sat in the backseat, watching the journey out the window. She couldn't predict how Loras would look or behave, which was a dilemma she'd always faced with him. Her grandson was bright and opinionated, but too stubborn by half. He got that from his father, Olenna was sorry to say.

When she arrived at the building of his flat, she let herself into the building and made her way by memory to her grandson's door. Olenna took a deep breath, steeling herself, and then knocked rapidly. She adjusted her grip on her clutch and rested her hands at her sides, biting back a comment when the door opened. "Hello, dear," she said quietly. She pursed her lips and took in the sight of him, suddenly even more worried than she had been before.

[margy-tyrell]

I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth || Margaery and Olenna || 8th August

[margy-tyrell]

Margaery smirked at Olenna's saucy words. She was certain if any of the other Tyrells ever overheard their conversations their toes would curl. Olenna had taught Margaery all about using her feminine charms many years ago, how else could she have been so well practised as a 19 year old? She had also taught her all about how to twist around the judgemental eye of everyone around her and come out of any situation, or embrace smelling of roses.

The seconds that passed between her initial confession and her Grandmothers reply were agonising to say the least. Refusing to look up she resolutely stared down at her plate of food, which only a moment before had tasted divine and now tasted only of ash. And does this someone have a name? Margaery swallowed her mouthful of food and it sat in her stomach like a lead weight. Looking up she hoped that her face remained unreadable to those around them (but alas, it would never remain so to Olenna). “P-Pyp.” Margaery stammered before clearing her throat and regaining some semblance of control. “Pyp Jameson.” Jesus Christ, it had only been a week and she was confessing all to her Grandmother? She suddenly felt foolish and part of her hated Pyp in that moment.

[matriarchofthorns]

Margaery stumbled over the single-syllable name and Olenna kept her features calm, schooling her face to remain impassive and nonjudgmental. She had never heard the surname Jameson; it sent up a red flag, since Olenna knew of nearly every prominent family in the UK, even the ones she felt nothing but disdain towards. His Christian name -- Pyp -- made her toes curl. It was so crass; short and abrasive and reminding her of bubblewrap, popping as it's pulled from a long-awaited package.

"Pyp Jameson," Olenna repeated. She chose not to comment on the way Margaery stumbled over the name, knowing it would only make her granddaughter stumble further. But Margaery had always been surefooted in her speech; she didn't hesitate the same way her brothers did, didn't insert question marks where they didn't belong or trail off in the middle of sentences. Olenna remembered the way she stuttered over Luthor's name when she told her mum about him, the way she wanted to crawl into a hole after because she was so flushed and so giddy with the knowledge that she had a suitor (with the knowledge that her suitor was Luthor Tyrell, most especially).

"I don't know the name," she continued, then took a small bite of her food. Chewing and swallowing, Olenna reached for her drink and took a small sip, watching Margaery all the while. "What does he do for a living?"

[ren-baratheon]

Sept. 9th - Loras Tyrell’s arrest spreads across the internet…

[gtyrell-blog]

Marking the territory || Olenna & Garlan || August 8th 2012

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan already had his fingers at his mouth, nibbling on the sides of his nails as she spoke to him, and almost immediately, as if she were there, he dropped his hand, scolding himself, instead twirling the tails of his shirt around his fingertips, twisting until they went red and then untwisting again, clenching and unclenching his hand. He knew that Olenna was never nearly as strict with him as she was with the others, and that was simply because she had no reason to be, he had always been a good kid and even as he grew he was the one visiting most frequently, sending postcards from every single place he visited, but he was sure that the woman knew just how he felt then.

Her voice was calming, in a strange way, making him take pause and let the panic subside,

‘Uh. Okay. We could go to Laduree? Or the Ritz? I think the Ritz is a good idea, their seasonal menu is still on, it’s still very nice.’

He replied, tongue sliding over his lips as he moved across the room to flick the coffee machine on, 

‘Maybe you could.. come down to the office now, and then we’ll go together?’

[matriarchofthorns]

He hesitated to speak and Olenna rolled her eyes, wondering what it was about this particular generation of Englishmen that made it impossible for them to speak in proper sentences and use correct grammar. "Don't begin sentences with 'uh,' Garlan. You sound simple." She took a breath. His suggestions were weak, peppered with audible question marks that made her cringe.  She resisted the urge to demand that he speak in statements, knowing that he was trying to give her an option. Olenna forced a smile, even knowing that he couldn't see her. It helped motivate her to be patient.

"I've just come from the Ritz, though admittedly, the food was better than I expected. I haven't been to Laduree. Since it seems to have been your first inclination, might we try it? I might enjoy something new."

Garlan sounded panicked in a way that concerned her. She knew he didn't want the role he'd been forced into, knew that he had no desire to run TMC or return the business to its former glory in the eyes of the public. Olenna also knew that of his siblings, he was the only one  -- aside from Margaery -- who could perform the task satisfactorily. She hoped that with a bit of patient training, Garlan could be the CEO that her family legacy deserved. She suspected he could; otherwise, she would already be on the search for someone else to take his place, as much as it would pain her to seek someone outside the family.

"Come to the office now?" she repeated. Olenna pursed her lips for a moment, considering. "I suppose it is past mid-day. A few hours to see the changes that have been made to the company since you took on your role would be beneficial. Surprise visits have always been more revealing than planned ones." She nodded to herself and leaned forward, asking Paul -- her driver of many years -- to take her to TMC. It would be a long day, but she was old enough now to know how to deal with those. They required extra tea and a handful of painkillers, but as long as she slept early and slept well, she'd be fine come morning.

"I can be there within the half hour, if traffic doesn't keep me trapped for too long."

[bloodandglory-caps]

[ink-and-cigarettes-blog]

Something You Should Know | Olenna and Loras | Flashback: 2005

[ink-and-cigarettes-blog]

Taking the tea she offered, Loras dropped more sugar in than he probably should have, and took a sip sooner than he should have. Scalding his tongue, he shoved it against his cheek and tried not to pull a face as he put down the tea on to the side table. “I suppose I might. I mean, it would be nice. Not a lot of blokes who are actually gay around here.” He’d dated a few guys, but it had never gone anywhere. He always got bored with them, some quicker than most. Deciding that perhaps switching the conversation (that was going on longer than expected), he picked up on his Gran’s words about his Grandfather, and decided to ask her the questions.

 ”So, you said Grandfather tried hard to woo you over. What sort of things did he do?” His Grandad had to be a special man to win over his Grandmother, that he knew for sure.

[matriarchofthorns]

The tension in her grandson didn't fade even as she tried to put him at ease by asking more general questions about the future, about romance as a whole. Olenna watched as he sipped too quickly at his tea, the look on his face still the same even after years of delving into food and drink that was too hot to ingest. She set her own tea on the table beside her to cool and frowned a bit at his explanation about "blokes around here." Reaching for a scone and breaking off a small bit, she sighed. "That might be for the best, dear. You're a Tyrell. You deserve the cream of the crop. Oftentimes, it takes several tries to find that kind of quality, especially when it comes to romance."

Loras asked her about Luthor and Olenna couldn't help a small smile. He was obviously trying to direct the conversation away from himself, though he did so very well. It made her wonder how often he deflected conversation and whether he knew that it was a great skill of journalism to be able to redirect your source's words to cater to a particular topic. If he joined TMC, he would be an asset, as long as he could commit to the challenge and keep his biases out of his writing. Olenna was constantly nervous about their employees' ability to do the latter.

"He tried very hard," she said, laughing a little. Olenna schooled her features and took a sip of her tea, the liquid cooled just enough to not scald her tongue. She watched Loras over the rim of the cup and thinks about her life with her late husband. She missed him, still. She suspected she'd even miss him on her death bed. "When we met, he was a bit squirelly. He hardly spoke to me at all, though my best friend at the time introduced us and swore up and down he'd charm my skirt right off." She pursed her lips, holding back a smile. "He didn't."

Another laugh escaped her and Olenna set her tea back on the table, not wanting to make a mess. "The next time we met was at a dinner. We sat next to each other, because everyone else had already paired off, though it wasn't until halfway through the entree that he acknowledged me beyond saying hello and making the usual small talk. He asked what I was studying, and whether I believed any of the recent news stories. I had no idea what he meant, but it at least prompted discussion. We talked about quite a lot that night..." She trailed off, the memory overtaking her. She could still recall how Luthor had offered to walk her home that night and how he had complimented her knowledge of literature. Their courtship had been long and intense, built up over several months of intellectual discussion and heated debate. It was the kind of love story she knew other people craved.

[gtyrell-blog]

Marking the territory || Olenna & Garlan || August 8th 2012

Garlan stood in the office that he now had to call his own, and he did the very same thing he had done for th past two day, or had it been three, or more, he had lost count already, he was already going mad, already confined within this glass mausoleam, already wanting to get out and already wondering why he had even agreed to do this—no doubt he was the last choice. Mace never had been particularly fond of him and, as far as he knew, neither were the majority of the family. He wasn’t a first choice for them, a first call, he was the last one and while it dampened his spirits, he could not blame them. 

His fingers twitched at his sides and he turned his back to the rest of the people on his floor, he turned his back on his secratary and moved to shut the blinds of his windows before slouching down in the chair behind his desk—at least he had changed the desk, he couldn’t stand the glass that had been in here before, he’d been so afraid to shatter it by setting his cup down a little too hard, and now it was a thick, dark oak—eyes on the computer screen. But his hand shot out and he picked up the phone dialling one of the few numbers he knew by heart. Olenna Tyrell. His grandmother. As strict as she was, as severe as her gaze could be, he knew that he could count on her, that she would be there to help as best as she could as, after all, this company was as much her child as anything.

The phone rang for a little while and he waited, his thumb at his mouth, chewing lazily at the skin there, his eyes darting around the office as he sat there, confused and frankly quite lost,

‘Grams?’

He asked as the ringing stopped, 

‘Are you nearby? Do you want to.. I don’t know.. Get lunch? It’s been a while an—.. well, I need some help. Or dinner?’

[matriarchofthorns]

She left brunch with Margaery feeling rattled, which wasn't a feeling Olenna liked to have. Her granddaughter's life was rarely one Olenna felt the need to get involved in, but sometimes the girl would pull statements from seemingly nowhere that made Olenna lose sleep for nights on end. She vowed to keep a closer eye on the tabloids for the next several weeks to make sure Margaery wasn't getting into any trouble in the public eye and tried to shake off her concern, knowing it would only make her tired. Before she had even properly processed everything they had discussed during their meeting, a vibration deep in Olenna's bag snagged her attention. 

Pulling her cell phone -- and really, if she were anyone else, she wouldn't bother with a device that kept her connected to absolutely everyone in her life at all times, because it seemed a bit absurd (but in her experience, and in her family's line of work, immediacy was everything) -- from her bag, she squinted to read the name on the screen and felt a deep jolt in her gut. If Garlan was calling her from work, it could only mean one thing: he was already in over his head.

Garlan had never required much molding. He was well-behaved and genuinely good, an attractive lad with a lust for life that Olenna admired. He understood the importance of aesthetics and rarely earned more discipline from her than a slap on the wrist for saying something uncouth within earshot of a tabloid reporter. Of course, he had never been the go-to for responsibility and leadership. Willas was far more responsible when it came to organization and deligating, Margaery far better at getting people to do what she wanted. Garlan was kind and Garlan did not like being stuck in one place.

Olenna answered the phone and could tell immediately that her grandson was in need of help from the tone in his voice. He confirmed the thought a moment later and she took a breath before she replied. "How lovely to hear from you, Garlan," she said sincerely. "I'm in London until tomorrow, actually. I meant to stop by the office later this afternoon to see how you're adjusting." She paused, her lips pursed. "I've just come from brunch with your sister, so lunch might be a bit too much for my stomach," she said gently. "Dinner would be nice, though. Is there anywhere in particular you had in mind?" She had found that it was important to make Garlan choose the easy portions of their interactions; it taught him how to make executive decisions.

[margy-tyrell]

I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth || Margaery and Olenna || 8th August

[margy-tyrell]

Margaery unfolded her napkin and placed it over her lap as she reached for her knife and fork. Cutting in to her poached egg her mouth began to water as the yolk ran over the hollandaise sauce. Perfection. Looking across at her Grandmother she let her words wash over her, “Have I ever been led astray, Granny?” She asked a knowing smile on her lips as she tried to push her concern for the young boy aside.

And then the question Margaery had been dreading. Gerris she could paint over, explain that she was using her feminine charms to get some information from him. No doubt She would approve of that, to a point. But Pyp. How could she explain Pyp away?

It would be so much worse if Olenna found out through a third party.

Keeping her voice as light as possible she turned her gaze down to her plate as she picked at the spinach on her plate. “I have been spending some time with Gerris Drinkwater.” Granny could read between the lines, “He’s close to the Martells.” Swallowing she pushed the toast around her plate, “I met someone.” Shrugging she tried to brush it off as she shoved some toast in her mouth so she wouldn’t have to answer straight away.

[matriarchofthorns]

Margaery was flippant in her reply, but Olenna knew better. Her granddaughter was a strong, powerful woman and it was best not to get in her way; Olenna had made sure that her granddaughter would never be run over by anyone. But that didn't mean it wasn't possible to be convinced by sweet words or well-placed white lies. Since she and Luthor began TMC as just a small circulation of news briefs, she had been faced with instance after instance of people trying (and failing) to take her down. But that hardly meant that she was never tempted, or that she never saw the appeal of walking alongside the path she'd carved for herself rather than on it. She didn't want Margaery to have to confront those decisions alone, as she had. She wanted her granddaughter to have the best of everything, all the time. She deserved it. She was a Tyrell, after all.

The name Gerris Drinkwater didn't ring a bell until Margaery explained his connection. Olenna arched an eyebrow, reaching for her glass. She swirled the drink and took a sip, then cleared her throat. "Has this Gerris Drinkwater been... useful, for his designated purpose? I imagine he's been plenty useful in other ways, though it's best to put business before pleasure in these situations. I wouldn't want your work to suffer for the sake of a talented pair of hands."

The next bit was harder to read. Margaery had gone squirrely, suddenly, her eyes on the table as she pushed her food around the plate. She took a bite as soon as she spoke, preventing herself from having to answer any of Olenna's questions. For a moment, Olenna was reminded of Loras, the way he'd stuff his mouth full of food so he wouldn't have to admit to anything damning. She had hardly ever seen the behavior reflected in Margaery and it threw her off for the slightest moment. Clearing her throat once more, Olenna followed suit by taking a bite of her own food, chewing carefully as she considered how to respond to the declaration.

I met someone, was, as far as Olenna was concerned, a very significant statement. It was the kind of thing she'd said to her girlfriends at Oxford, back when Luthor had first begun courting her. It was the kind of thing people said when they weren't sure how serious their relationship was going to be, but they were sure that it would at the very least be lasting. Olenna swallowed and took another sip of her drink, then took a deep breath.

"And does this someone have a name?"

[ink-and-cigarettes-blog]

Something You Should Know | Olenna and Loras | Flashback: 2005

[ink-and-cigarettes-blog]

”You knew,” he finally mumbled. Suddenly he felt foolish. Of course she’d known. She knew everything. She always knew. Loras thought he’d been pretty secretive about the entire thing, telling people when they needed to know. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized just how unsurprised everyone was. He hadn’t even had to come out to Margaery— not officially. Just told her he had his first kiss with another boy on the playground, in which she asked if he was cute before dumping a bucket of pond water on his head.

 No one was surprised. No one.

 Running a hand over his face, he let out a groan and leaned back in his chair, hoping his cheeks would stop making him look like a strawberry. “How long have you known?” he asked, wondering if someone had told her, or she’d figured it out herself. He thought he’d done a good job of hiding it. Although his massive collection of Calvin Klein catalogs and football posters with half naked men on them might have tipped her off.

[matriarchofthorns]

"Not in so many words," she said. "I wasn't certain you'd chosen to apply a label to your sexuality, but you've never shown an interest in girls. I may be ancient, but I'm not out of touch. Sex is still a familiar concept to me, dear." Olenna bit back a laugh at the horrified look on her grandson's face and reached for the little bell on the side table, tapping it once. One of the maids appeared in the doorway a moment later and Olenna offered her a small smile, without teeth. "I think we'll need some tea," she said cheerfully. "And maybe a plate of scones. Don't forget the butter."

The maid disappeared and Olenna turned her attention back to Loras, giving him a proper smile. "I'm glad you decided to tell me, though. That indicates trust, as well as maturity." Loras was leaving for university and she knew that he would do well, but she was nervous for him all the same. He had always been the most childish of his siblings, though none of them had ever shown a particular aptness for growing up and growing out of old, bad habits. She was slowly but surely trying to train them all in the ways of being not just adults, but adults with the surname Tyrell. It took a special kind of poise, a certain elegance, to be worthy of the family name, most especially in public situations.

"Do you suppose you'll meet a nice boy while you're at school?" she inquired. The maid returned with tea and scones and Olenna thanked her, then waited for her to leave the room before continuing their discussion. "I met your grandfather at university, you know. We started TMC not long after graduation. He always was a passionate man. He worked hard to sweep me off my feet, though it was hardly necessary. When you meet the one, it's obvious, even if no one else can see that." Her eyes sparkled a little when she met Loras' gaze and she sat forward in her seat, reaching for a cup and the pot of tea. 

[margy-tyrell]

I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth || Margaery and Olenna || 8th August

[margy-tyrell]

Margaery rubbed the pad of her forefinger around the rim of her glass as her Grandmother watched her with shrewd eyes. “Not right away of course.” She said with a smile well aware that Olenna knew exactly what she had meant, “He has a natural skill for the work, not that I’ve let him loose,” She added, “Just asked him what he would do with a particular press release.” Sipping her wine again Margaery took in her grandmothers reaction.

Frowning deeply as she thought of Tommen and the distracted look he wore sometimes. As though he was a million miles away in his own head and it didn’t look much fun. “Hes not the type to scheme and plot,” not like us, Granny. “It’s something that’s really troubling him. Something serious.” Looking up Margaery fixed the happy little grin on her features again as the waiter returned with their food.

[matriarchofthorns]

Olenna considered Margaery's words, intrigued and troubled by the pronouncement that the youngest Baratheon spawn was somehow troubled. Hiring him had been advantageous for several reasons, of course; it gave Margaery an intern she could boss around on more menial tasks, freeing her for more important purposes; it also gave TMC a look into the life of one of Cersei Lannister's children, something Olenna had wondered about for years. She didn't like the look of the Lannister woman, nor her husband. His policies had been grotesque, his public behavior worse. Now that the lion had left the stag's pen, Olenna imagined life was very different for she and her children.

The waiter arrived with their food before she could comment, and she carefully picked at one of the crusts of bread with a fork, inspecting it for mold. "You're fond of him," she said, meeting her granddaughter's eyes. "I hope that doesn't lead you astray from the overall point of bringing him on as an intern."

She took a small bite of her food and chewed carefully, considering. It was far better than she was expecting, truth be told. The flavor was perfect. "Is there anything else new in your life, dear? Surely you must have a life outside of work and the family. Interrogating Tommen Baratheon must be fun, I'm sure, but you've never been one to ignore your sparkling social life." Olenna only asked these questions so that she wasn't completely blindsided by tabloid fodder or asides from her family and staff. It was easier if she asked outright than if she tried to keep up via the papers. 

[ren-baratheon]

I'm Counting On You | Renly & Olenna | August 14th

[ren-baratheon]

As she continued, he held his breath, afraid she would turn down his request to become a Tyrell.  Or worse yet, refuse to all him to marry her grandson.  Finally she granted him reprieve, and answered in the affirmative.  He let out a relived sigh and smiled genuinely, “Thank you, I like to think it does.  It better, I plan to remain Renly Tyrell for the rest of my life.”

Dropping his eyes to the table once more, he gave her one last promise, “I will take care of him.  I know Loras seems young and foolish, and in the grand scheme knowing each other for three years hardly seems long enough to pledge life long devotion….but I do love him, more than I ever thought possible.”

[matriarchofthorns]

A small smile curled the corners of Olenna's mouth and she watched him fondly, feeling a small well of affection in her chest for the man. It was clear that he loved her grandson, that he wanted to be a part of the family as desperately as Loras wanted the both of them to be okay. She understood him, and respected him; she wanted both of them to be able to enjoy the kind of lifelong devotion that she'd had with her late husband. She missed him every day, but she also had a lifetime of memories to hold close to her heart, warming it on even the coldest nights. Loras and Renly deserved to have the same. All of her grandchildren did.

"If everyone waited a lifetime to fall in love, they'd never get to spend any time being in love," she said quietly. Olenna reached out and rested her hand on his shoulder for just a moment, squeezing. "Three years may seem like only a blip in time, but you've been through quite a lot in that three years. There is no strict timeline that dictates when a person is ready for marriage, or for commitment. But if there were a test, you'd both have passed it with flying colours."

She cleared her throat and stood, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. "Now, I believe you have somewhere important to be. I have a few things to do today, as well." Olenna straightened her shoulders. "Take care of yourself, yes? I appreciate that you want to care for my grandson, but don't forget to care for yourself, as well. That can be one of the hardest things to remember, but it's one of the most important."

With a small nod, Olenna turned to leave the room, her steps measured and her pace steady. She made a mental note to call Margaery later in the afternoon and ask her about potential plans for a reception, knowing already that Renly had likely planned everything from the start. The glimmer in his eye when he'd talked about it had been obvious.

[ink-and-cigarettes-blog]

Something You Should Know | Olenna and Loras | Flashback: 2005

[ink-and-cigarettes-blog]

It wasn’t at all a comfortable realization to have whilst sitting in the hot seat. And it was hot— it was awfully hot all of a sudden. Feeling a flush blossom on his cheeks he shifted slightly, trying to get in the way of the breeze coming through the window in hopes of getting rid of his strawberry cheeked appearance. He could do this— he would just tell her he liked blokes and then leave for university right away and not have to see her for at least a year. Putting his hands back on the armrests in order to allow maximum leverage for when he made his inevitable escape, he took a deep breath and locked eyes with her, willing his gaze to look that of a determined, confident adult and not a terrified, going-to-crap-his-pants little boy.

 Disregarding her question of if he was alright he decided to just go for it, wanting it done now without the small talk. Rip the band-aid off in one go, as it were. He just had to pick the right thing to say. He figured ‘Gran, there is something I want to tell you. I’m gay,’ would suffice. Deciding that saying that was the way to go, Loras took another deep breath and spoke. “I like blokes. I mean men. I mean… males. I like— I mean, I’m a homosexual person.”

[matriarchofthorns]

The thing about Loras when he was frightened was that he quite resembled a hare, twitching and ready to flee at any moment. His entire body seemed to be filled with fear, from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his curls. Olenna watched him as he trudged across the room and finally sank into one of the plush armchairs, his hands planted firmly on the arms as though he needed leverage to make a quick exit. She kept her expression neutral, noting with some distress that if he was ever going to be a proper journalist, he would need to learn how to keep his emotions more in check. He was much too obvious and it was painful to see, even as someone who'd watched him grow up.

His response to her question of his wellbeing wasn't what she expected, and yet she wasn't particularly surprised. Olenna pursed her lips for a moment, trying not to laugh at the way he just blurted what he was thinking, the look on his face indicating that he was genuinely terrified even as he spoke the words aloud. She folded her hands in her lap and nodded. "Alright," she said slowly. It would be rude to inform him that she'd heard murmurings of his sexuality for years, from family members and close family friends alike; it would be ruder to laugh at him for being so frightened of telling her something that was ultimately inconsequential to who he was as a person or how he would succeed in life. Of course, she wanted him to fall in love and be happy, but whether he chose to do that with men or women didn't truly matter.

"You're a homosexual person," she repeated, nodding calmly. "But are you alright? You look ready to vomit, dear. If you're going to do so, please try to avoid the upholstery. This room was just renovated last month and I don't fancy the idea of replacing the chairs so soon. They're too comfortable; wouldn't you agree?"