Chapter 36: Garden Party of Highgarden

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  The hall brimmed with color and murmured tension. Lords and dies of the Reach mingled uhe evening sky, surrounded by a flarden, where te-afternoon light snted across polished floors. Long tables bore polished silver goblets and ptters of ripe fruits, fine cheeses, and honeyed pastries. Smallfolk servants, dressed in discreet shades of green and gold, moved quietly through the crowd, refilling cups and ptes. Every er was alive with low ughter and the muted k of cups meeting in cautious toasts.

  The people gathered here were no small hey were big shots of the Reach. Lord Paxter Redwyood with his sons near a table piled high with grapes, and Lord Mathis Rowan leaned in close to Lord Owen Oakheart, their brows knitting as they spoke in hushed tones.

  Lord Baelhtower and Lord Randyll Tarly, both known for stern discipline and unwavering loyalty, hovered at one end of the room, discussi levy ts and the health of the harvest. Beesbury, Mullendore, Florent—lesser names but still weighted with history in this nd of fields—drifted in and out of small clusters. They were f quiet alliances or seeking reassurances.

  At the ter of it all, Lord Mace Tyrell smiled broadly but listened more than he spoke. His wife, Alerie Tyrell, was with him. They were surrounded by soft ughter and polite nods, yet there was an undercurrent of dissatisfa that he could almost taste from these lords, as if they weren't quite happy to gather here.

  Garn and Loras were also present, the former with his wife, Lady Leohey entraihe guests, keeping things fun. Wils Tyrell, the heir of Highgarden, sat among some of the lords. He'd been away from home till today, and was sitting due to his injury, while his pet fal sat on his shoulders.

  The beginning of the garden party went without an issue, but time revealed his suspis to be true.

  “Lord Mace,” Randyll Tarly approached him, a goblet of wine in one hand and a narrowed look in his eyes.

  “Lord Tarly?” Mace looked at him curiously.

  “I have an issue,” he said. The bald man’s reputation as a formidable warrior and an unpromising lord preceded him, and he wasted no time on pleasantries. “I thought Lady Olenna was going to e visit me yesterday. I waited all day, and then a raven notified me otherwise. Then, I received a sudden invitation to this ba. I’ll admit, I hesitated to accept at first, it seems insulting, but here I am. My wife pushed me. Yet I don’t see Lady Olenna. Is she avoiding us?”

  A hush rippled outward from this frontation. It was light, but enough that a few lords who had been distracted by their versations turned discreetly to listen. The Tyrells’ ret shift in allegiance, supp the te King Renly against the , had left many of these men wanting answers. They hadn’t questio before, but after Renly’s death it grew into a problem.

  They knew where the true power in Highgarden y, and it was not solely in Mace’s broad shoulders. Olenna Tyrell’s abse such a gathering stirred annoyaer suormous events had been going on in the realm.

  Mace Tyrell cleared his throat, his smile faltering at the edges. “I assure you, Lord Randyll, my mother is—” He began, but before he could say more, the sound of slow footsteps drew all eyes toward the entrance of the garden.

  Lady Olenna Tyrell made her entrah measured steps, being apanied by Margery, leaning lightly on her e, yet losing none of her anding presence. Margaery revealed a smile at the lords as they approached.

  Olenna wore a gown of deep green and gold, the Tyrell rose subtly embroidered along the hem. Her sharp eyes surveyed the room without hurry, taking note of each face that turo her. The earlier dissatisfa seemed to vanish in thin air in her presenobody in the Reach dared to offend her.

  “Good lords,” she said, voice warm and precise, cutting through the garden's buzz. “I realize how fused you must be retly, and I'm pleased you all accepted our invitatioe that. As for those Houses that chose to ighis invitation, I'll see to them,” she smiled. It was cold. “My apologies, let's waste time on this. The truth is, I have something… signifit to share with you today.”

  She took everyone's expression, as they exged gnces before she added, Something that will shape the future of the Reach, and perhaps all of Westeros.”

  An expet hush fell. Randyll Tarly’s frown deepened, but he waited, watg her carefully. Olenna swept her gaze across the assembly, sav the attention. Then she made a small gesture toward the side door, and a figure stepped forward.

  He was fiailarments that bore subtle hints of Targaryen heraldry—a rich bck doublet worked with crimson thread, wearing a princely smile, a cape trailing behind his tall shoulders. His silver-blond hair caught the fading daylight, and he moved with quiet assurance. Lady Olenna lifted her proudly.

  “Lords of the Reach,” she said, “allow me to present to you the rightful King, Viserys Targaryen, third of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” She smiled, “A king who returo these shores from Essos, with allies and promises that warrant your ears, your respect, and your swords.”

  A stunned siletled in, while Margarey made sure to smile at Viserys. He retur. Goblets hovered in mid-air, words died on tongues. Many had heard rumors, whispers on the wind, thanks to the i where he killed two knights. But seeing him here, in the heart of Highgarden uhe Queen of Thorns’ wings, made it real in a way that sent chills through every spine.

  For o of a heart, no one moved. Then the lords began to exge hurried gnces, questions sm in their eyes. Olenna allowed herself the smallest of smiles, pleased by the impabsp;

  ****

  I stood before them, the lords of the Reach, gathered beh the fading daylight that shrough the clouds. Their eyes, some wide with astonishment, others narrowed with curiosity, rested on me. Old Olenna’s annou had stuhem into silenow it was my turn to take the stage.

  A few lords whispered anxiously near Mace Tyrell, hushed words I could not fully catch. Instead of straining to listen, I focused on Randyll Tarly as he was the . He stood someart, his arms at his sides, jaw set in a line.

  A formidable man by reputation, he had oruck fear into Robert Baratheon’s ranks during the Rebellion. He was the only man who Robert had experienced defeat to.

  I gave him a nod and a smile as if greeting an old ally. “Lord Randyll,” I said, my voice carrying just enough warmth. “I’ve heard of your valor in battle—the time you bested Robert’s forces. A remarkable feat. I was young back then, no older than five, but I felt hope when I heard that story. Many tales reach my ears, but that one I believe. I’m gd to see you still hale and strong.”

  He hesitated, the muscles in his neck w as he weighed his respohe Tarlys had served Targaryens loyally in the past, and I sensed a spark nition flicker behind his stern gaze. In the show, he'd gone against his established character and defied Dany.

  I was curious if he'd act the same in this real world.

  azes locked. I kept smiling. Slowly, as if drawn by old oaths and a loyalties, he bent his knee. “Yrace,” he said at st, voice steady if subdued.

  “Yrace!” A young voice followed suit, and I reised him as Di Tarly, Randyll’s son.

  The small knot of uainty in my chest loosened. One by oher lords began to kneel—some quickly, others slrudgingly perhaps. Not all bent at first, but a single pointed look from Olenna Tyrell, standing beside me with her e, remihem of their p the Reach. It was her nd they ruled beh her patronage; defiance would not be wise. With reluce, the st dissenters k, and a quiet hush settled.

  I gestured for them to rise, spreading my hands in a ciliatory manner. “I see quite the hesitation here.”

  Many stiffened but I just smiled, “My lords, I know you’ve heard many rumors about me—some that paint me as weak, mad, or unfit. Lies spread by those who fear a Targaryen’s return, and some by myself, to stay in hiding. It's shameful, really, but it was the best choice at that time. I was a kid; I also had a little sister to take care of. I didn't want to appear dangerous. Assassins are everywhere. But I've decided that I won't hide anymore. That's why I'm here. I uand your caution. You’ve seen five kings vie for thrones, and noear to cim it too. Perhaps you doubt my strength or worthiness.”

  Some exged gnces, others looked away, still uain. I let them hold their doubts for a moment, then tinued. “I am not here to beg your favor with empty words. I will show you my mettle, my skill, a you judge whether I am the Targaryen this realm deserves.”

  From a servant’s hand, a spear arced through the air, and I caught it easily. Its shaft felt sturdy in my grip, reassuring. I turned, raising an eyebrow, “Of course, a sitle isn't enough to show worthiness, but I want to at least disprove some of the rumors. Now, who among you would test my prowess?” I said, and nobody moved. “What, I didn't know the Lords of Reach are little girls. Nobody is brave enough?”

  There was a rustle, and then Ser Hobber and Ser Horas Redwyepped forward. Twins, both broad-shouldered, e-haired, and freckled. I eyed them as they bowed briefly. “Five us, my lord,” said one of them, Hobber or Horas, hard to tell them apart, “but we ot kneel under a king who is titled a Beggar, a weak coward. We… mean no disrespect. We simply waainty that you're strong.”

  A murmured agreement rippled through the crowd. I ined my head, smiling. “I appreciate your hoy, Sers. It is far better than talking behind my back. You’ve challenged me, so let’s make it iing: I’ll face you both at the same time.”

  A collective gasp rippled through the lords, and evewins exged startled looks. They hadn't expected that. I was fairly sure they'd been notified about a duel by Olenna from the beginning, even if they might not have known who they'd fight against. But they didn't know I'd challehem both.

  Olenna’s gaze flicked to me, a hint of surprise and worry in her eyes. This was more than she’d arranged, and she worried I was biting more than I could chew. I just waited.

  “Let’s give them some space!” A man shouted, and I reised him as Lord Hightower.

  A momehe crowd parted, f a rough circle. The Redwywiated, but Olenna them. Soon, I faced the two of them in a makeshift arena.

  The twins lifted their practice swords. They were fieel. I could see the determination in their stahey wouldn’t hold bauch when I'd dared challehem both. They wao prove their own worth, too, and they genuinely was ied in what I could offer.

  “Start!” lord Hightower shouted.

  I shifted my footing, spear in hand, letting the tension hum through my muscles. Without further ceremony, the twins advarying to fnk me.

  I danced backward, spear tip flig like a songue. One lunged, I parried, the other swung low, and I twisted away. “You guys are slow, young lords,” I said, my spear flowing in my grip, and my movements fluid, as if honed by years among the sellswords and sparring arenas of Essos.

  In truth, I've not been training for more than six months.

  Their attacks were ear but not ing enough. I didn't want t this. After a heartbeat of careful observation, I tered—knog owin off bah a swift strike with the blunt side, then spinning to catch the other’s bde with my spearhead and send him stumbling.

  My spear moved like a spark of lightning. Their attempts to coordinate failed uhe relentless pressure of my quick thrusts as. Within moments, I trapped them both in a flurry of blows, rattling their swords out of their grips. They backed up, breathing hard, eyes wide.

  I decided to finish it decisively, jumping into steps, spinning in the air, and knog one’s feet out from under him with a low sweep and catg the other across the helm with the spear shaft. He resisted, and in response, I kicked him in the chest. “Argh!” He was sent his heavy body flying bato the flowers, screaming in agony.

  her of them moved, unscious. Gasps rose from the crowd—shod full of awe. They hadn't expected such a swift and loud ending.

  For a moment, silence reigned. “Great fight!” Then Olenna began to cp, the sound sharp and clear, and Margaery also followed. The others did the same, appuse rippling through the hall. I straightened, letting the spear rest at my side, and offered a gracious nod.

  It was not some outstanding fight, but I had made my point. Let them doubt me no longer. I was Viserys Targaryen, and I would not let anyone insult me using the rumors of my past self.

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