On a bright afternoon, Samwell and his companions finally arrived at Highgarden. After the long summer, the famed lush green paradise had taken on a softer, golden hue.
Guided by a servant, they passed through the labyrinthine gardens and three white walls before entering the castle.
"Is my father back?" Margaery Tyrell asked.
"Not yet, my lady," the servant replied respectfully. "But he should return soon. A knight brought word yesterday that the main force had passed Cider Hall. They should be here in two or three days. In the meantime, the Lady Olenna has asked that we arrange for the guests to rest."
"Very well."
The chill in House Tyrell's welcome was palpable; despite the arrival of four noble houses, no member of the Tyrell family was present to greet them. Given the circumstances, it was perhaps unsurprising.
The Lady Olenna Tyrell, without a doubt, understood that their visitors were not here with goodwill—especially with Samwell, the infamous "abductor" of Highgarden's rose, among them. All things considered, the restrained reception was a small relief.
But Margaery kept things lively, gracefully acting as a guide, and charmingly sharing stories of the castle's design and history with their guests, keeping the mood from feeling too strained.
Once everyone was settled, Margaery pulled Samwell aside and whispered, "I'll go speak with my grandmother and gauge her feelings."
"Would you like me to come with you?"
"No need," Margaery replied, standing on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss. "I'll come find you later."
She left, still wearing her travel clothes, and made her way up to her grandmother Olenna's chambers.
The "Queen of Thorns" was sitting in one of Highgarden's tall, elegant towers, sipping tea and gazing out at the fields and orchards that stretched for miles around the castle. She would have clearly seen the arrival of Samwell's party.
"Grandmother," Margaery greeted, leaning in to kiss Olenna on the cheek.
Olenna looked her granddaughter over with a curious gaze. "Tell me, dear, why did you choose Caesar?"
"If it was a choice between Joffrey Baratheon and Samwell Caesar, Grandmother, it wasn't a difficult one," Margaery replied with a smile.
Olenna scoffed. "If you didn't want to marry Joffrey, you could have simply refused. Why go through the trouble of eloping?"
"Because I care for Samwell," Margaery replied, a light blush coloring her cheeks.
"I taught you better than to let feelings sway your decisions," Olenna replied with a frown.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Grandmother," Margaery replied quietly, her long lashes trembling slightly as she cast her gaze downward. "But it's difficult to be heartless. You told me we help the poor only for appearance's sake, to win their love. But when I see those ragged, gaunt-faced farmers, my heart hurts."
"You can feel compassion," Olenna answered sternly, "but you can't let it drive your decisions. It will be your greatest vulnerability. Once you reveal a weakness, you become a target in the game of power."
"But compassion can also be a strength, Grandmother. It can win people's hearts and loyalty."
Olenna's gaze turned sharp. "You give people far too much credit. Most are far more foolish than you think."
She sighed, then continued in a somber tone, "When the Grey Plague struck Oldtown, taking almost half the city's lives, Quenton Hightower ordered every ship in port to be burned, locked the gates, and refused entry to anyone, including his own kin. It was the only way to keep the plague from spreading."
"But was he remembered as a hero? No. When the plague finally ended and Quenton went to celebrate with the people he'd saved, he was butchered by a mob. They blamed him for their suffering."
Margaery fell silent, absorbing her grandmother's words.
Olenna saw the stubbornness in her granddaughter's eyes and sighed, her tone softening. "Margaery, power is what truly matters. Don't be misled by appearances. Don't underestimate Tywin Lannister. That man held power in Westeros for twenty years. Neither Eddard Stark nor Stannis Baratheon will be able to overcome him.
"If we ally with him, the queen's crown will be ours in return. But if we follow Caesar's lead, what will we gain?"
"A dragon," Margaery replied quietly, her voice firm. "Grandmother, you saw it yourself—Sam has a dragon!"
"Yes, I saw it," Olenna replied, dismissive. "But it's the size of a lapdog. How many men can it burn?"
"It will grow."
"Sure, but how long will that take? Ten years? Twenty?" Olenna scoffed. "And hatchlings are the easiest to kill. When dragons were kept in King's Landing, mobs broke into the Dragonpit and slaughtered the hatchlings. Are you sure Samwell's dragon will even live to see maturity?"
"If Samwell already had a dragon the size of Balerion, he wouldn't need House Tyrell's support," Margaery countered. "But if we support him, our children could be the true heirs of a dragon's legacy. Dragons take time to grow, yes—but once they mature, they bring centuries of power."
Now Olenna's face softened slightly, and she allowed herself a small smile. "Now, that's a reason I can respect."
But her expression quickly hardened. "But tell me, didn't you climb onto Caesar's horse and ride off with him before he even had a dragon?"
Margaery blinked, then gave her grandmother a playful smile, hoping to shift the conversation. "Grandmother, do you think supporting Samwell is better than supporting those Lannister bastards?"
Olenna narrowed her eyes. "Caesar may have potential, but I doubt he'll survive long enough for us to benefit from it. Once the lions, wolves, and stags finish tearing at each other, they'll turn to him."
Margaery persisted, "That's why we must use this time, while the realm is in chaos, to support him and strengthen his power."
The Queen of Thorns gave her granddaughter a pointed look. "Even in alliances, Margaery, there must be balance. You've been too eager. This alliance would have been much easier to negotiate if you hadn't rushed off with him."
Margaery defended, "Samwell was worried you'd act against him, so he took steps to protect himself. I promise they have no intentions of undermining Highgarden's authority."
"You don't believe that, do you?"
Margaery hesitated, her gaze wavering.
In truth, she'd understood Samwell's intentions as soon as she saw the forces from Brightwater Keep and Goldengrove accompanying him to Highgarden. Much of the time, she was convincing herself as much as anyone else.
"Grandmother," she said quietly, her tone softening as her resolve deepened. "No matter what your or Father's decision may be, I'm committed to Samwell. If I must, I will leave Highgarden with him again, whether I have your blessing or not."
Olenna shook with frustration. "How could you forget that love makes fools of nobles? Think of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark!"
"Forgive me, Grandmother," Margaery said quietly, yet with unwavering eyes. "The 'Conciliator' King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne defied everyone for love. Nearly everyone opposed their marriage, but it was blessed by the gods and became the Targaryen dynasty's golden age."
Olenna sighed, a cold smile on her lips. "You're comparing a mere landed knight to one of the greatest Targaryen kings?"
"Samwell Caesar will be a great king," Margaery declared confidently. "And I will be his queen."
Olenna stared at her granddaughter, this girl she had watched grow into a woman dreaming of the crown. In that moment, the Queen of Thorns saw the makings of a true queen.
Olenna smiled, this time genuinely. "So, you're ordering me as a queen?"
"Not at all," Margaery replied, leaning into Olenna's embrace. "I'm asking you, as your granddaughter, to support me and the man I love."
Olenna looked away, deep in thought.
Sensing her hesitation, Margaery pressed her advantage. "Grandmother, all I'm asking is for you to remain neutral in the upcoming council."
"Neutral?" Olenna snorted. "If I don't intervene, do you think your lily-livered father can handle Randyll Tarly and Mathis Rowan on his own?"
"I only think that House Tyrell should respect its bannermen's wishes. If too many houses refuse to support the Lannisters, is it right for us to force them?"
Olenna's eyes narrowed. "Did they put you up to this?"
Margaery shook her head. "No, this is just what I believe. Isolating House Tyrell in the Reach won't bring us power—it will only weaken us."
After a long silence, Olenna finally gave a slow nod. "Very well. At the harvest festival in two weeks, we'll let the lords of the Reach voice their opinions."
"Thank you, Grandmother!" Margaery hugged Olenna tightly, planting another kiss on her cheek.
Olenna returned the embrace and whispered, "Just remember—never give away all your cards. You must keep something hidden. Otherwise, how will you tie a man down in the future?"
"I understand." Margaret smiled and nodded, not knowing whether she had listened to her grandmother's advice.
(End of this chapter)