Olenna sat in her solar, a glass of Arbor gold in hand, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting. She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief as she spoke, her voice low and conspiratorial.

"Can you imagine," she said with a sly smile, "the valyrians, prancing around with their queer notions. And Daeron—oh, I’ll never forget the look on his face when he finally broke off our betrothal. Not that I’m disappointed, mind you. I’d never marry a man who prefers his own gender over a woman of my stature."

*Her ladies giggled, exchanging knowing glances. Olenna's eyes sparkled with satisfaction she felt like she was free.

"At last, I’m free," she continued, her tone sharp with triumph. "Now, I can finally entertain proper matches. Perhaps a nice match to someone who knows what to do with a woman, unlike poor Daeron." She tapped her finger against her lip thoughtfully. "A strong lord, a handsome one. Maybe someone from the Reach..." She smirked and chuckled. "Maybe even one of your brothers." She joked as her friends all laughed. Olenna then raised a glass.

"To men who can appreciate what lies beneath a woman's gown!"