Highgarden, situated on a vast emerald hill that offered a commanding view of the flowing Mander, presented itself under a clear sky, adorned with only a few leisurely drifting clouds.
Bathed in the radiant glow of the midday sun, the castle stood proudly, its three concentric rings of pristine white stone walls.
My mind raced with tales of what lay within: the renowned briar labyrinth, designed to entertain guests and impede potential invaders. The ancient towers harkened back to the Age of Heroes, more jagged and square, while the newer additions, elegant and slender, featured round fortifications that emerged after the arrival of the Andals.
As we made our way towards the castle, the rolling hills unfolded before us, all with trees or flourishing vineyards that stretched as far as the eye could see.
To the south, the mist-covered peaks of the Red Mountains stood tall. Surrounding the area, a woodland added to the enchanting atmosphere. A place of wonder, perhaps unrivaled in its serenity, offering everything one could desire, except for a convenient sun-kissed beach.
In the days preceding Aegon's conquest of the seven kingdoms, the Reach was governed by the ancient House of Gardeners, a noble lineage with deep roots.
However, their reign came to a tragic end during the historic battle known as the Field of Fire, where the combined forces of the Reach and the Westerlands clashed with Aegon and his fearsome dragon. The Gardeners were annihilated, and in their stead, the Tyrells, their trusted stewards, were granted Highgarden and bestowed as Wardens of the South.
This shift in power created a fascinating dynamic within the political landscape of the Reach, well-known among the learned members of society, and a fine example of the Westerosi elitism.
House Gardener, the ruling lords before the Tyrell's, traced their lineage back to the mythical figure Garth Greenhand.
Garth was credited with transforming the First Men from hunters to farmers, and his many children became legendary figures during the age of heroes.
Numerous houses in the Reach claimed descent from Garth's children. For instance, the Gardeners themselves hailed from the line of his first son, also named Garth.
Another notable descendant was John the Oak, the first knight in Westeros, believed to be the offspring of Garth and a giantess, whose lineage led to House Oakheart. They still produce tall offspring to this day.
Florys the Fox, known as Garth's cleverest child. Considering that she managed to have three husbands at once, I suppose she must have been. House Florent claim fame from Florys.
Foss the Archer, known for shooting apples off the heads of maidens who caught his eye. Not exactly sure how that made him a legend, but it's a popular tale, and he became the progenitor of House Fossoway nonetheless.
The list of legendary figures said to descend from Garth Greenhand seemed endless.
Gilbert of the Vines, who introduced the art of making sweet wine to the Arbor. He founded House Redwyne: renowned for possessing the second most formidable fleet in Westeros. Ser Ryam, who bestowed knighthood upon me, hailed from this family.
Maris the Maid, a renowned beauty, who inspired the first-ever tourney, as warriors of the realm fought for her hand: ancestor of House Hightower. And we mustn't forget Rose of the Redlake, a skinchanger with the ability to transform into a crane, a power some believe still resides in House Crane to this day.
Even Lord Beesbury, currently in the capital assisting my father on the small council, could trace his origins back to the Greenhand. One of Garth's daughters, Ellyn the Sweet, loved honey so ardently that she sought out the King of Bees in his mountain hive, striking a pact to care for his children for eternity. Thus, the Beesburys became the first beekeepers of the realm.
Without a doubt, the Reach had long been the breadbasket of Westeros and had played a significant role in shaping the realm's culture.
As I rode through the gates of Highgarden, my mind wandered to the Tyrells' rule and the perceptions held by many Reach lords. They had once viewed the Tyrells as mere stewards, compared to their own ancient houses tracing back to Garth the Gardener and his legendary descendants.
However, the allure of the castle's beauty quickly silenced such thoughts. Meeting Lord Tyrell and his family only reinforced my impression.
Their love for Highgarden was evident, and it was no surprise they had been bestowed the title of High Stewards of Highgarden. During my interactions with them, I detected no malice or deceit in their words.
They were gracious hosts with a genuine appreciation for nature and all things vibrant. While they surely pursued their own ambitions and sought supremacy like any noble house, my time with them revealed a genuine stewardship and dedication to their role. I engaged in numerous conversations with the aging Lord Tyrell, discussing the wonders of their land and sharing ambitious ideas for its further improvement.
Highgarden seemed to radiate happiness, as if the enchanting surroundings infused everyone with a sense of joy. The library housed a wealth of intriguing texts. Brien, always on the lookout for a mystery, busied himself with exploration, while Theodore immersed himself in old ledgers, comparing his financial acumen to that of the Reach lords of old.
As I wandered through the captivating gardens, I frequently sought solace beneath the ancient weirwoods known as the Three Singers. These magnificent trees, believed to have been planted by the legendary Garth the Gardener, intertwined their branches and appeared as one entity.
One tranquil twilight, I was drawn to the sacred sanctuary beneath the Three Singers. Seated by the serene pool, I sang a melancholic melody, resonating with the quietude of the surroundings. In that moment, as my song echoed through the stillness, I imagined the ancient weirwoods uniting their voices in a wordless harmony, their sorrow intertwined with the whispers of the wind.
Yet, that was perhaps the only touch of sorrow. The halls of Highgarden crammed with musicians and flowers. Grapes were always within reach; the walls draped with ivy, and there was never a shortage of activities to do.
Some days, we indulged in pleasure boat rides along the Mander, while on others, we traversed the countryside on horses from their renowned stables. Riding through fields of golden roses that stretched as far as the eye could see, we occasionally sought respite beneath the shade of peach trees. We even stumbled upon watermelons, which we harvested and sliced for the Rhaenari to enjoy after our training sessions.
As our time in Highgarden drew to a close, and the weight of our welcome became overbearing, preparations for our departure began.
In the midst of these preparations, all the Reach nobles converged upon Highgarden, turning the occasion into a week-long celebration of feasts and tourneys. To my delight, Rhaenyra arrived on Syrax just in time to partake in most of them.
During this time, I tasked the Rhaenari with organizing various games. Archery, javelin throwing, hammer toss, and more. We expanded the repertoire to include running races, boxing matches, wrestling, and even swimming races up the Mander.
It evolved into a magnificent event, with both commoners and nobles alike cheering on the competitors. The joy it brought was undeniable, prompting us to consider making these games a regular occurrence whenever we had a sizable audience. It reminded me of my previous life and the international allure of the Olympic games. We would need to brainstorm a fitting name for the games we hosted.
On my final night in Highgarden, we culminated our stay with the grandest feast of all. At that stage I was so enamored with the fruits of the region that I bid no meat be served that evening, and Lord Tyrell was all too happy to oblige.
I wore a leaf green velvet doublet embroidered with golden grapevines that beamed almost as much as my smile. When Rhaenyra entered my chambers I gave her a good spin. "How do I look?"
"Handsome.." she said and immediately caught herself in embarrassment. "I mean, that's what mother would say. You look adequate! Yes, quite adequate!"
They dressed Rhaenyra in a gown of shimmering silk, its baby blue enhancing the violet depths of her eyes. When bathed in moonlight, she seemed to transcend into an elusive realm, a misty enchantment that tantalized but remained just out of reach. A delicate and almost translucent golden sash tied at her slender waist, accentuating her figure. Her hair — combed and free flowing — strands of shining silver. She entered my chambers smooth, like she was gliding on ice.
"You look like a moon goddess," I remarked, "If one ever graced the earth."
She looked away, "You're just saying that."
"Well, I did just say it."
I chuckled as Rhaenyra's cheeks flushed with warmth, realizing in that moment that she was blossoming into a young woman, radiating with such beauty and potential that the world seemed to lie at her fingertips.
I wanted to capture that fleeting moment, to freeze it in time and paint her portrait, so she could always look back and remember how bright she shined, how limitless her possibilities.
"Come," I said, extending my arm, and Rhaenyra gladly took hold of it. Together, we walked arm in arm, accompanied by Ser Steffon and Ser Lorent as our trusted escort. "I suddenly feel that tonight will be wonderful!"
Rhaenyra tightened her grip on my arm and asked, "But where are we going? Isn't the great hall that way?"
"We're heading to the sept," I replied, "a tribute to Garth."
Rhaenyra hummed thoughtfully, "I thought you didn't care much for the Faith?"
Surprised by her statement, I asked, "What makes you say that?"
"You said it once when we were very little."
"Did I? How childish of me!"
There was a hint of gloom in her voice, "Can you not."
"Not what?"
"...Do that thing you do with everyone else. You always keep secrets. I know. I've always known. But why do you keep them from me?"
We came before the sept as she spoke, and I could feel the mistiness in her voice. Depending on my answer, tears would flow, and I couldn't bear to see her cry, especially not before such a joyous evening.
Placing a hand on her shoulder, I gently lifted her chin with a delicate finger, our eyes locking in an amethyst gaze.
"Okay, I'll let you in on a little secret. No, I could give two shits about the Faith."
Rhaenyra gave me a surprised look, taken aback by my sudden openness. It took a moment for her to respond, "Then why?"
I smiled and let out a deep, relaxing sigh, and traced tiny circles on the end of her chin with my thumb.
"Because of others. The Faith gives people hope, structure, something to believe in. I may be a trailblazer, but I don't wish to radically change how people think. On the contrary, I have always been intrigued by the various religions of this world. Spirituality chose me, not the other way around. I'm probably more religious than all the septons combined! But let's not dwell on such things and appreciate the architecture, shall we? The people will be delighted to see their prince and princess paying such respect."
Rhaenyra squinted, her mind seemingly processing various thoughts. It appeared as though she might call out my falsehoods or question my slip of referring to it as "this world," implying my different origin.
However, she chose to dismiss those thoughts, shaking her head as if to clear them away. "Okay," she said, "As long as you're happy."
I chuckled in response, "For tonight, I will be."
The feast was packed with lords from all corners of the Reach, including the legendary ones I had previously mentioned. Throughout the evening, I had the opportunity to pay my respects to the Redwyne's, gain military insights from the Tarly's, and engage in lengthy discussions about fruits with the Appleton's.
It was during a conversation with the ladies of House Crane that I scanned the room and noticed a notable absence. Excusing myself from the Crane table, I made my way over to where Theodore was seated.
"Where's Brien? He's like the discussion I'm having. They're *this* close to admitting they can still skinchange!"
Theodore yawned, "He said he wasn't coming. Claimed he had the 'prince shits' or some illness. He's probably in the library."
"Absurd!" I exclaimed. "He can't use that excuse every time we have a banquet!"
"Not every time," Theodore remarked.
"What do you mean?" I inquired, raising a brow.
"I mean," he said, "Brien tends to excuse himself whenever the Reach is involved. Haven't you noticed?"
I furrowed my brow. "Seriously? I always assumed he left whenever things got too lively. The Reach is known for their indulgence, after all."
Theodore shrugged, saying, "Perhaps you're right," but his tone was peculiar, reminiscent of that one person who can't keep a surprise secret, "Perhaps not."
Detecting the air of mystery, I said, "Then I shall seek out Brien and ask him directly."
This statement prompted Theodore to swiftly finish his wine, "Now this I have to see!" as exclaimed, hopping out of his chair.
I took heed of Theodore's anticipation and nodded to Ser Lorent, who had been hovering nearby, and together we made our way toward the exit of the great hall.
In the midst of being engaged by the heir of House Oldflowers, Rhaenyra noticed our purposeful strides and graciously excused herself, joining my side.
"What are we doing?" she said, picking up her pace to match ours.
"Too much Arbor gold," I said, "It seems Brien also has a little secret."
"Brien?" said Rhaenyra, "As if he's that interesting."
"Who knows?" I mused, "Perhaps he has a penchant for sliding glass candles where they don't belong?"
Theodore chuckled, "It would certainly wreak havoc on his insides. They are sharp to the touch."
"Did it occur to you," I countered, "that may be precisely the point?"
Arriving at the library, we pushed open the heavy double doors with a sense of entitlement. The room was dimly lit, with high ceilings and a draft that swept through. In the corner, a solitary candle flickered, casting a glow on a robed figure who looked up in surprise at our sudden intrusion.
"There you are!" I exclaimed. "While there is vibrant color and life outside, you choose to sit here in darkness!"
"I have no interest in feasts," Brien replied with almost a whisper.
"Nonsense," I insisted. "Feasts provide fresh ears that have not yet grown weary of your ramblings, and you relish in such opportunities! No, there is something deeper to this. So go on, spill it out."
For a fleeting moment, it seemed that Brien would continue to deny, deny, deny. Theodore, with an almost wicked delight, couldn't help but rub his hands together in anticipation, which did not help spur Brien along.
However, when my dear sister took a seat beside Brien at the table, radiating the charm befitting her status as the realm's delight, the floodgates of words began to open.
Brien closed the book before him with a heavy sigh. "Fine," he conceded, pouring his wine to the brim
"—But I'll only share this once."