Judgement
Aerion stepped foot onto the Arbor first, as was the tradition, followed by some of his men. Those who remained were to guard and manage the ships until the rest returned or required reinforcements. It was unlikely that any sort of battle would breakout since Aerion was in the Arbor for diplomatic purposes... but strange things do happen, sometimes.
As expected, the Tyrells did not do the Emperor a disservice by having anyone but the Lord Paramount confront him directly. Mace Tyrell, despite his mighty title, seemed insignificant to Aerion. Both his reputation and appearance pointed towards him being no more than an oaf fortunate enough to be born into House Tyrell.
By his side, however, was someone far more formidable... his mother. She was widely known for the title 'Queen of Thorns', her sharp tongue to be specific. Then there was a young lady, along with quite a number of guards behind the Tyrells. This girl seemed to be no more than thirteen years of age, though it was quite clear that she could very possibly mature into a beautiful woman.
"Was this meeting not meant to be more discreet?" Mace Tyrell stated.
"Is there a reason to be discreet?" Aerion replied, stepping forward. "If you bend the knee today, you will have nothing to fear."
"Not the Ironborn, not the Usurper... and certainly not me."
Aerion violet gaze looked down on Mace, awaiting his response.
"How blunt... I expected the genius Targaryen to be more tactful." Olenna stated.
"I have no reason to be tactful towards those beneath me," Aerion replied. "If you-"
"Who in Seven Hells does this wrinkled child think she is to speak to Our Lord in such a manner?" The Archer did not take kindly to that, and neither did the rest of the Soul Knights. "Speak in that tone again and I shall personally send you to the grave a few years early."
Wrinkled child...
Aerion stopped himself from bursting out in laughter, instead deciding to hide it with all the willpower he could gather. Indeed, Olenna was comparable to a child in terms of size while being far... FAR from one in terms of age. She was closer to death's doors than most, in truth.
The Tyrell guards grasped their sheathed swords, attempting to look threatening while doing so while the Soul Knights did the same. Mace Tyrell took a few steps backwards.
"This woman is either brave, foolish or simply unable to keep her mouth shut..." Oswell remarked.
Aerion decided to not beat down on the pathetic household guard before him and make the Tyrells realise who they were dealing with, acting in a more 'tactful' manner. He did not wish his first impression to be that of a brute who could only acquire what he wanted through force.
Instead, he went by a more subtle approach.
"My, this is a terrible start for our negotiations." Aerion chuckled. "Knights, stay your blades. They are allies... supposedly. Killing them would not lead to anything spectacular, rather it would be a mere waste of time and effort."
Aerion walked forward, moving past the Tyrell entourage and towards the town. He looked at all the smallfolk who seemed somewhat terrified of his presence. A majority of them had heard all the stories of the Dragon of the East, who slaughtered everyone who stood in his Conquest. It was known that he was capable of ruthlessness... although never towards the average resident. Perhaps this could be the first time he would do so? Who knew...
"Perhaps a change of scenery would do us good?" Aerion smiled as he looked upon the residents of the town. "A port is not the best place to discuss such important matters."
"Forgive my mother, Your Grace." Mace Tyrell bowed before anything else. "She did not mean to insult you."
"It's quite alright. I am not one to be overly sensitive."
Olenna nodded slightly, believing to have spoken too soon. He had changed the atmosphere of the port from a possible battle back to the one of diplomacy within a few words, calming both his own men and those of House Tyrell in the process. He carried an air of authority and charm around him which none other in the Seven Kingdoms could compare with... this was something everyone who saw him in person could agree with.
"Well, then. Shall I lead you to where the negotiations will commence?"
"You know this Arbor better than I do, Lord Mace." Aerion turned around to face him, waving his hand forward in an effortless gesture. "Lead on."
"As you wish, Your Grace."
As the two groups collided in their walk, Aerion turned his attention to the young lady as he was rather bored.
"What is your name, my lady?" Aerion inquired.
"Margaery of House Tyrell, Your Grace."
"Oh, I see. I've heard a little about you and most of the stories sing true." Aerion nodded. "Though I'd rather you not address me as 'Your Grace'. It is unfitting... only the one who sits on the Iron Throne and rules the Seven Kingdoms should be addressed as such, in my opinion."
"Is it not your rightful title?"
"I have yet to earn it, my lady," Aerion replied. "But it is only a matter of time before I take what is mine by right. By then, I may even find a more suitable word than 'Grace'."
"Aerion is rather stubborn when it comes to being addressed as 'Your Grace'." Jaime stated. "A more suitable way of addressing the Emperor would be... well, Prince or Emperor."
"I see." Margaery nodded. "My Emperor, would you share your experiences with the Free Cities? In Highgarden, some believe you to be a devil who summons the dead to fight for you."
"Well, that is close enough." Oswell made a jest.
"I would not consider myself a devil... but the latter is certainly true." Aerion turned. "These wonderful emerald-eyed men behind me are a form of undead that I keep around."
"They are?" Margaery replied, certainly not expecting them to be undead. They looked alive as any other man in terms of appearance.
"Except for Ser Jaime, of course." Aerion nodded. "They are the most believable undead I can make use of and their strength should not be underestimated. One of them can take the precious Highgarden within a day at most, with all its defences."
Margaery nodded, taking note of that statement even though it seemed rather absurd.
Eventually, they reached the manse that would be used. Aerion passed the rest of the time by conversing with his Kingsguard and knowing the other Tyrells better.
"Here it is!" Mace announced in an overly cheerful manner.
"I see... it will do."
~
After seating himself at the table, Aerion was offered refreshments which he gladly accepted. The food at sea wasn't the best, after all, while the Reach was the most fertile land in the Seven Kingdoms. He was introduced to Arbor Red, the Arbor's famed sweet wine, and some peaches to begin.
"Is a feast not more suitable for His Grace?" Mace inquired.
"Father, you should address him as Emperor," Margaery stated before Aerion could speak.
"Thank you for the offer, Lord Mace, but I have eaten beforehand."
"I understand, my Emperor." Mace sat back down.
Aerion had some of his Arbor red and laid back slightly, entering a more relaxed position.
"Alright... so, I've deduced that Rob is failing to protect the Realm which he claims to be the protector of and so, you Tyrells have turned to me." Aerion inspected his peach. It was large and colourful, inviting him to eat it upon first glance.
Aerion took a little bite and was even more impressed by the taste.
"A wise decision, if I say so myself."
"So, what do you p-"
"Allow me to finish speaking, Mace." Aerion interrupted Mace Tyrell with a cold tone.
"However, I do not have a short memory. I like to remind myself of everything that occurred during the Usurper's Rebellion. Yes, you were on the Loyalist side of the battle... but how much did you really contribute?"
Aerion's gaze focused on Olenna and Mace Tyrell.
"Some say, that the Reach can field seventy thousand men and yet I believe less than ten thousand of them were present at the Battle of the Trident. Where were the rest? Oh, I know... they were doing nothing. Lord Stannis fondly describes the Siege of Storm's End to me from time to time, where you were banqueting like there was no tomorrow until Lord Eddard arrived to lift the siege."
Aerion looked directly at Mace Tyrell.
"Perhaps, if you had been more supportive of my father... he may have lived and won the war, becoming King after my grandfather. But you were too fond of merely 'doing what is necessary' which is the excuse you would later give to Robb and his large band of rebels. I do not consider that a loyalist trait."
The Kingsguard felt the air grow heavy and cold.
"A true loyalist would be willing to go through all Seven Hells for their King."
"Which... by my definition, none of you can be considered a loyalist." Aerion took a larger bite from the peach. "Honestly, I believe that is fair enough. The past is the past and you did what was best for your House. You were playing the game safely... if either side were to win, your House would continue as if nothing happened."
Aerion smirked slightly as the hall seemed dead silent, all carefully listening to his words. He liked a group of people who could listen well. It could be interpreted as a display of authority over those beneath him.
While he spoke, no other dared to interrupt.
"Now, I, Dragon Emperor Aerion of the House Targaryen, shall state my judgement regarding the future of House Tyrell."
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