Chapter Text
“This cheese smells.” Leo scowled at the plate but still stuck his fork into a piece of the said goat cheese. “In fact, appetizers are lacking today. I bet it was Robyn who ordered them. Only he can eat this dreadful cheese and find joy in it.”
Lenore turned her head from the book she had been reading to look at her cousins. The cheese was alright and definitely didn’t smell, thanks to the different seasonings added inside it. Leo was just looking for an excuse to pick a fight out of boredom. She decided to watch them to see what would happen and call Lorcas only if they would start breaking precious porcelain plates again.
“It wasn’t me.” Much to her surprise, Robyn refused to entertain him and resumed eating his apple pie. “Though I must say the goat cheese doesn’t smell as bad as your unwashed arse Leo.”
Lenore took a sip from her mint tea and looked at his cousin in awe. Usually he jumped on Leo during arguments or blushed like a tomato instead of making a witty comeback.
“What did you just say?” Leo dropped his fork; the untouched goat cheese fell on the table with a thud.
“I am telling you to wash your arse more frequently.” Robyn gave his brother a dirty look. “So others wouldn’t have to endure your terrible smell while eating.” Sensing this would end with a fight, Lenore finally interfered;
“For the love of… stop behaving like children.” She put his teacup on the table and took a grape to throw at Leo’s face. “You are almost twenty, act like your age.”
Leo caught the grape with his mouth and chewed on it. “You would know how to act your age, wouldn’t you Lenore?”
His tone irritated her; Leo always spoke in riddles whenever he knew something the other person didn’t. She narrowed her eyes as if that would help her read his thoughts. It shouldn’t have been a difficult task she thought his head is mostly empty after all. “What do you mean Leo?”
“What he means is… we saw a letter on my brother’s desk.” Robyn reached for the apple pie to cut himself another slice.
“So? Your brother is the Lord of Highgarden. He receives letters daily.”
“This one was from Oldtown. Desmond and Lord Ormund only send letters to each other if it is necessary.”
“He is too stuck up, thinking his house is above us.” Leo frowned at the cheese as if it was the main culprit of his grievances. “He should remember who his Lord Paramount is.”
Lenore rolled her eyes at his comment. House Hightower was too influential to be messed with. She couldn’t imagine Desmond reprimanding the Queen’s family without facing any consequences.
“What does this have to do with me?”
“Well, we think he wants you to marry his son.” Robyn made ugly kissing sounds while Leo playfully twirled his hair to mock her. “Lenore and Lyonel… married in Oldtown. Even your names are rhyming.”
“No, they are not.” Robyn frowned at his brother. “Rhyming names have more than one common letter, you imbecile.”
“Look how the one who failed his history lessons is calling me an imbecile.” Leo took Robyn’s apple pie and threw it to his face which resulted in Robyn attacking him with a fork. Lenore rose from her chair to call Lorcas, not paying any attention to the letter from Oldtown. Probably that was one of the bad jokes his cousins loved subjecting others to.
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Lenore’s instincts rarely proved her wrong but when her cousin summoned her to his study, she knew it was related to the letter.
Desmond was sitting on his elaborate chair carved from rosewood and adorned with golden roses. Lenore always found it too on the nose and wondered whose idea it was to make that for the Lord Tyrell. At least, her cousin looked like a king sitting on it, especially with her bright green tunic and golden neck chain.
As if to compensate for their lack of blood ties to the Gardeners, her family loved to wear green and gold to emphasize Highgarden was theirs and theirs alone. At least I won’t have to change my wardrobe if they really want me to marry Lyonel Hightower.
She was oddly content with the idea of a possible match between them but why wouldn’t she be? Lenore was already twenty-and-one, she knew that a marriage was on the horizon and Lyonel was known for his good nature in the Reach. Also, she could think of worse fates than being the Lady of Oldtown with a meek husband closer to her age.
“Lenore.” She came to her senses after hearing her father and turned her eyes to him. He stood beside Desmond like his shadow and just like her cousin, had a green tunic embroidered with golden Myrish lace on his back. His dark brown eyes looked at him with worry; he stroked his stylized short beard. “Are you listening?”
“I apologize.” Lenore smiled at him. “This heat is unbearable. I felt dizzy for a moment.”
“Then let’s get to the point. I am sure you have better things to do.” Her cousin opened a drawer and pulled a small parchment roll with a green seal. Even though it was broken, the sigil of House Hightower was impossible to mistake.
Her father took the letter from Desmond and held it in his hands without opening it, which meant he already knew what was written in it.
“Two days ago, a letter had arrived from Oldtown.” His dark brown eyes beamed with happiness. “Lord Ormund wants to form an alliance between our noble houses.”
“And he asks for your hand.” Surprisingly, Desmond didn’t seem as enthusiastic as her father was.
“You must understand that you will never receive an offer as good as this one.” Her father put the letter on Desmond’s desk; the dark green seal shone under the sunlight seeping through the high windows. His cousin, however, seemed distressed, as if he wanted to leave the room and let them handle this issue privately.
“Are you sure about this match, Uncle?” He turned his hazel eyes to Lenore’s father, completely ignoring her. “He is quite older than Lenore…”
“Older?” Lenore could feel her tongue getting numb in her mouth. “This offer… isn’t made for Lord Ormund’s heir?”
Her father turned his head to her. His expression was hard to read; he looked at Lenore the same way he did back then, when he had to explain something unsavory, like how she wouldn’t be allowed to skip her embroidery lessons to go riding with her cousins.
“Lord Ormund’s eldest son is only three-and-ten.” He said slowly and cautiously as if Lenore would have a hard time understanding him. “Also, he is already betrothed to Samantha Tarly. He can’t marry you.”
“It is Ormund Hightower himself who asks for your hand.” Desmond pushed his brown locks behind his ears and rubbed his temple as if this issue had been giving him a great deal of trouble lately. “His wife recently passed away due to childbirth.”
“And you want me to accept this?” Lenore clenched her fists. Suddenly the idea of being the Lady of Oldtown didn’t feel very alluring. Marrying a green boy was something; marrying a widower with four children was another. She wanted to jump on her father and yell at him for even thinking about considering this. “An ancient man who killed his wife because he couldn’t stop putting children on her belly despite already having four of them and now he wants another one so he can continue. Is that the best I could find?”
“He isn’t even forty.” Her father opened his arms and approached her for a hug but Lenore took a step back. “Lenore, you would be the Lady of Oldtown. There are no other eligible men in Westeros who could offer you more.”
“Our family rules the Reach. We are the superiors of Lord Ormund!” She glanced at her cousin, considering those words were directed at his sense of pride but Desmond seemed too busy examining the letter as if there was something spectacular about it.
“They are our mightiest vassals, surpassing us when it comes to money and influence. The next king will carry their blood.” Desmond’s eye twitched after this statement but he chose to remain silent. “Hard as it may be to accept this, we have much to gain from this marriage. There are other noble houses still thinking Highgarden should have been theirs, that we are just upstarts. We need to form alliances with others and we should spread our roots into the ground so we can grow strong. If you won’t do this for your own good, at least do it for the sake of your family Lenore.”
“Lenore.” Her cousin put the letter on his desk and finally spoke. “I know Ormund Hightower is not the husband you wanted for yourself. But your father was telling the truth when he said you wouldn’t receive a better offer. He can give you the respect you deserve. You would be the wife of one of the richest men in Westeros.”
“Until he dies of old age before me. Then I would be discarded by his son and forced to return there. Shouldn’t I marry someone not burdened with any children?”
“We can’t predict when we are going to die. Only the Gods have that knowledge. You can perish tomorrow whilst Lord Ormund could outlive all of us.” Desmond took the letter and put it in his drawer before locking it with an elaborate golden key. “Think about his offer until tomorrow.”
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The news of Ormund Hightower’s marriage proposal spread through Highgarden quickly. First Lenore heard a scream of joy coming from her mother’s chambers and almost immediately after she abruptly opened her door without any warning.
“Your father gave me the good news.” She comfortably settled on Lenore’s bed. Her mother looked gorgeous as usual; her blonde locks falling from her shoulders and blue eyes shining with joy. She absentmindedly fixed her skirt. The color of her hair complimented the bright color of the dress, making it look like the sun and sea conjoined.
“Good for you, maybe.” Lenore turned to the mirror and examined her own hair. It was neither golden like her mother nor rich brown like her father. Her hair was in between instead, light brown colored. Insignificant and dull. “He is almost as old as father.”
“A little age gap never hurt anyone before.” She winked at her but her expression changed when she realized Lenore wasn’t as enthusiastic as she was. “I saw him before when he visited Highgarden.”
“Lord Ormund?” When Lenore raised her brow, her mother smiled sweetly, knowing she caught her daughter’s attention.
“Of course, silly girl. Who else are we talking about?” Instead of describing him, she waited for Lenore to prompt the conversation.
“What did he look like?” Lenore hated entertaining her mother but deep down she was curious about the man who proposed to her. “And how many years have passed since you saw him exactly?”
“It was during your uncle’s funeral. He was accompanied by the High Septon from Oldtown. You were in Red Lake with Lorcas.” It was around three years ago then. She and her brother were visiting their grandparents when they received the news of her uncle’s death but when they arrived, he was already buried. All they could do was light a candle in his name in the sept. “Lord Ormund attended with his lady wife. She was a Bulwer, someone with no importance.”
“For gods’ sake, she recently died, mother.”
“Six moons have passed!”
“Just tell me what he looked like.” Lenore tried to braid her hair but she failed halfway, causing her mother to grab her hair and do the work.
“He was impressive, walked those halls as he owned them and when he joined us in the sept he looked more majestic and lordly than Desmond ever could ever be.”
She sneered at her description of him. Lenore did not doubt that she was exaggerating, even though her mother never liked Desmond.
“That doesn’t answer my question, mother. I want to know what he looked like besides his very charismatic and lordly stance. Does he have two eyes? Ten fingers? A full set of teeth? Will I be able to look at his face without grimacing?”
“Lord Ormund was very handsome.” Lenore carefully examined her mother’s face as she continued to braid her hair and detected honesty on it. “He was tall and vigorous for his age. His brown hair, only a little darker than yours, was framing his strong features and his eyes… they are as blue as the Sunset Sea. Your children will be beautiful.” She finally finished her work and tied her hair with a golden ribbon she took from her desk. “You won’t be able to find a finer husband than him.”
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Lenore had trouble sleeping that night. She tossed and turned in her big, comfortable bed, opened the windows for fresh air, fluffed up her feather pillows and even consumed a warm glass of honeyed milk but sleep refused to come to her.
It was natural to lose sleep over that dreadful letter. Lenore knew that she had no choice on the matter and even though her cousin pretended she could refuse Lord Ormund’s offer, they would send her to Oldtown by force and threats anyway.
Regardless of his titles and wealth the Lord of Oldtown was still significantly older than her and already had four children, with one of them being an infant. It was likely that they would expect her to take care of them but she had no interest in being a babysitter.
Her mother would call it a fair deal. Before leaving, she told Lenore that it was only a small price to pay in return for being the Lady of Oldtown. House Hightower was even mightier than her own house, she would live in luxury.
There wasn’t any doubt that she was exaggerating but there was also truth to her words. Ormund Hightower was one of the richest men in the realm; his power and influence were boundless. His cousin was married to the king and her son protected Oldtown with his dragon. Who could say that they held such power in their grasp? Which noble lord’s wife could be as influential as Lord Ormund’s?
Lenore finally left her comfortable bed, took her robe from the closet and started to stride in her room as she always did when she was nervous. Marrying Lord Ormund would be beneficial to her standing but would that be really worth it? He was older than her by a great deal; almost forty to Lenore’s twenty-and-one.
Lenore knew she wouldn’t marry for love; however, she expected a younger husband- maybe one of the heirs of the Lord of the Reach or someone whose father died early under suspicious circumstances.
“Mother says he is handsome...” There wouldn’t be any love between them but at least that would ease her wifely duties. Considering how his wife recently died due to childbirth, it was obvious that he would expect her to perform them frequently.
She clutched to her velvet robe and walked to the door, ignoring her uncomfortable shoes, glancing at her from the corner. The floor was clean enough and she had a fresh bowl of water to wash his feet anyway.
She walked towards the end of the corridor to talk with her mother. Her father had a habit of sleeping early, so if her mother was awake, maybe she could ease her mind by telling her everything would be fine.
Their door was open, which meant they were still awake. Lenore held the doorknob and pressed her ear to the door’s smooth surface to hear if her father was sleeping or not so she could leave if he was awake.
“You know this is the best option for her.”
Lenore intended to leave after hearing her mother’s voice but curiosity got the better of her and she retreated to a safer spot.
“The man is old Allana.” Her father’s voice was hesitant. “He already has four children.”
“He is six years younger than you!” A short silence was disrupted by footsteps. Surely her mother was approaching her father to hold his hand like how she did whenever she wanted to convince him. “Lenore will love Lord Ormund. Don’t you remember how handsome he looked when he attended to your brother’s funeral.”
Her father scoffed at her words. “I was too busy mourning my brother, Lord Ormund’s charms must have escaped my notice.”
“I am serious Luthor.” Her mother took a deep breath. “Our daughter is twenty-and-one I already had Lorcas when I was her age. If we decide to wait for a better offer… well, let us be honest to each other that offer will never come.”
“Lenore is a Tyrell. Of course there will be better offers than-”
“Luthor.” Her mother’s voice was rigid. “I love Lenore, she is my blood, but I also acknowledge her flaws. She is not a great beauty, she lacks the elegance of a proper lady and most importantly she is a daughter of a second son. There won’t be better offers than the Lord of Oldtown.”
Lenore expected her father to oppose her; she wanted him to say that she was his precious daughter and she deserved better but instead of defending her, he swallowed her words.
“I am aware of my daughter’s shortcomings as well as mine own.”
“Then why are you still hesitating? Can’t you see how this marriage could ensure our daughter’s future?”
“Because I have my own suspicions about Lord Ormund! My brother… he never liked him and I am sure that he knew his own bannermen well enough. He said he was strict, a zealot who hated everything he couldn’t control.”
“I can’t say that your brother was a good judge of character Luthor.”
Lenore turned her back and walked to her room, leaving them to bicker. He clenched her fists and only allowed herself to cry after she closed her door, making sure that nobody would hear or see her like this.
Her mother’s words echoed in her mind; not a great beauty, lacks the elegance… Lenore always knew she thought poorly of her, but hearing them was harder.
She wiped her tears on her sleeve. Crying wouldn’t help her situation but at least she had a clear idea of what to do.
Lenore would accept Lord Ormund’s offer and become his bride. Not out of desperation but to prove to her family that she could be more than Lord Tyrell’s insignificant, forgettable cousin. If they wanted her to be the Lady of Oldtown, so be it.