[31] The High Walls of Highgarden

Chapter 31: The High Walls of Highgarden

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The city was waking up, the sunlight was warm, and my mind was a whirlwind of ideas. Renly Baratheon was not a danger, and I’d never seen him as one. Even if he didn’t die somehow in this timeline, I was fairly confident in taking him out myself. The problem was what’d come after him. Stannis the Mannis, the humorless stag.

Stannis’ army only almost took over King’s Landing, but Tywin Lannister appeared at the right time with the Tyrell army beside him. Now, I was planning to take the Tyrells for myself. Instead of Tywin, I could be the one to bring them to King’s Landing and then take the throne.

Or, I could wait it out. After all, just taking the throne wasn’t the plan. The plan was to hold it. If I only had the Tyrells and Dorne by my side, I couldn’t defend the throne if Robb Stark challenged me with others. So, I could kill Joffrey mid-battle, and then I could kill Stannis just when he’d think he was winning. Then I could let Tommen the fool play King for a while, while I bring the others under my wing too. By then, I might even have visited my lovely sister and met her army.

Those two plans came to mind, and multiple more formed as I pondered. But all of that concerned me having the Tyrells by my side.

The Reach could provide me with somewhere from 80,000 to 100,000 men. And as surprising as it may sound, that wasn’t their greatest value. Their greatest value was the crops—the food—they could provide me. Winter was coming, and with the threat of the white walkers looming overhead, food was a very important matter.

The choice was simple, no matter which plan I followed.

I’d need House Tyrell by my side more than any other house.

The problem was Dorne. I was an ally of theirs, and they were generational enemies of Tyrells. They wouldn’t mind if I allied both of them, they’d compromise, but the manner of alliance could cause problems. I was sure that old lady, the Queen of Thorns, wouldn’t let me leave without marrying her granddaughter.

I didn’t mind marriage, but I’d rather keep that option open if possible. After all, if things went right, I had some plans with Sansa too. While the North was a poor region, they were the snow-barbarians who would fight the hardest against the White Walkers.

Then again, they’d do that even if I didn’t command them.

Regardless, I’d need a Stark loyal to me to control them, warn them about the impending threat, and listen rather than find my words a meager story.

“But you’ve already made your choice,” Kinvara said, yawning as she nudged closer to me. Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains as our skin brushed against one another. Her touch was warm, welcoming, like the feel of family. She kissed my lips, moaned a little, and nodded. “I think your plan’s solid.”

“I know,” I said. I only told her after I’d made my choice not to ask her for advice or anything. She scoffed out a giggle.

“Yeah, go to them with the intention of becoming allies, and try not to get married. But if you have to, if you have no other choice, then you’ve got yourself a beautiful wife,” she said. “That Margaery girl… her fate is interesting.”

“Hey, if you can see the future, can’t you just tell me?” I raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not really the future. It’s just a lead, barely even. Plus, if I tell you, it’d be distorted. What’s the point in sharing a future that is ruined?” She said, making me shrug. “So, who are you taking with you? I’m unsure if the Tyrells will be fond of you visiting them with the Sand Snakes.”

“Nah, if they won’t ally themselves with me just because of the Sand Snakes, they might as well not become allies at all. I need them to work with Dorne. I can’t have my backers fight each other,” I said. “But yes, for this, I don’t plan to take them with me since there’s a chance that things go wrong and we must escape. But I will take you with me. What’ll you do? I want to take you with me too, but Queen Cersei might get curious about where you vanished.”

“I’ll go with you,” she yawned, sitting up slowly as she stretched her arms. “I can’t not be there when you’re making such an important deal. This is potentially- no, easily bigger than our alliance with Dorne. Dorne is supposed to have 50,000 able-bodied soldiers, but they barely provided 10,000 when your older brother Rhaegar asked them for support. Even though at that time, the Princess of Dorne was married to your brother. Even had children.”

“Well, he was cheating on her.”

“She was still the Queen. They didn’t bother to send more help,” Kinvara said, looking into my eyes. “We’ll just need to cover our tracks and make sure nobody realizes we’re going to Highgarden. Plus, you’ll need me to talk with that wrinkle bag.”

I laughed, slowly getting off the bed. “Let’s leave right now, then,” I said. “Unless you have work that needs to be taken care of?” I personally didn’t. I had Ros and her whores to gather information and do anything I need them to do in my absence.

“Sure thing,” Kinvara agreed. “We need to catch a ship through the Mander River. Should take us about two weeks to reach the place,” she said.

I stared at the woman who’d been helping me with everything since I awakened myself. She was doing a lot, all in the name of her Lord, all in the assumption that I was the Hero she’d dreamed about. Sometimes, it was easy to trust fanatics because they didn’t hide their allegiances.

I’d have to be careful of her when we’d have no more use of each other. Until then? She was my best friend.

I walked over to open the windows properly, pushing the veils to the side. I looked at the city of King’s Landing outside as my hair blew in the wind. Two weeks later, I might be half an arse on the throne already… Or not. I was going there assuming they wanted a Targaryen back to the throne, which made sense given what I knew of them, but could I be sure?

This might backfire if they choose to expose and kill me instead.

Hopefully, regardless of how the visit goes, I’d be back before the Riot of King’s Landing, where the mob would attack the royal family. I had a plan to fulfill during that incident, after all.

****

The Mander River stretched endlessly before us, its waters glittering under the sun’s gaze. The journey had been long and grueling, but I hadn’t minded. It was pleasant.

The farther we got from King’s Landing, the cleaner the air became. Fields of golden wheat and verdant pastures flanked us. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and filth that I’d left. It was laughable how the Reach seemed untouched by the turmoil gripping the rest of Westeros, although some signs of it still showed.

Even so, this place wasn’t peace itself. Not when soldiers patrolled every major road and wary commoner eyes followed us wherever we went. The war had reached here, even if indirectly. The Reach might have been beautiful, but even it wasn’t safe.

“A beautiful place for vacation every year if they become your in-laws,” Kinvara rode beside me and said, and I ignored her. Her magic no longer wrapped her hair, as black strands were tucked neatly under a hood, with some swaying in the wind.

She’d disguised herself well, trading her usual crimson robes for simpler, muted fabrics. She was stubborn about it, but I convinced her in the bedroom. But people still stared, drawn to her as if she were carrying a secret flame within her. It was odd.

“We’re close,” she murmured, with her gaze fixed ahead, where the spires of Highgarden rose on the horizon.

I followed her line of sight, my grip on the reins tightening. There it was, the seat of House Tyrell, a fortress that looked more like a palace. Its golden walls gleamed in the sunlight, surrounded by sprawling gardens that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful, yes. But more importantly, it looked mythically powerful.

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It was a reminder that the Tyrells didn’t just rule—they thrived in the Reach. They’d taken this land from its original rulers three hundred years ago, and they’d been ruling ever since. “Beautiful place, isn’t it?”

“Quite,” Kinvara agreed. Before we could exchange more words, we were interrupted by the distant sound of hoofbeats. “Careful.”

I glanced to my right just as a group of riders appeared, their green cloaks unmistakable. Tyrell soldiers. Their formation was tight, and their approach swift. It was as if they’d been expecting to be attacked or something.

A knight led the soldiers, and he was a broad-shouldered man with a thick mustache. He reined in his horse with his head tilted high. He closed the distance and slowed, his eyes scanning us with practiced suspicion. “Halt!” he barked, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “State your names and purpose.”

I slowed Dany White to a stop, letting the horse sidestep once before settling. “Take us to your lord’s castle,” I said, keeping my tone firm.

The man frowned, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Not until you tell us who you are, stranger. What kind of demand is that?”

Kinvara remained silent, her posture relaxed, and her smile calm. I allowed a smirk to tug at my lips. “You’re cautious that we’re spies. That’s good, the times are tough. But you’re wasting time. My business here is urgent.”

The soldier’s frown deepened. “Urgent, is it? You’ll have to do better than that.”

I sighed, feigning impatience. I wasn’t truly. I was just making a show. I wanted my entry to be a bit grand, after all. I hadn’t come here as ‘Vis,’ a wrapped cloth hid my hair in the Dornish style, so I could get away with showing off a little.

“I visited Dorne before this, and I guess they were right about what they said about the Reach. Pretentious and slow. Useless, too. They never wasted time questioning me like this. But I suppose not everyone can be as competent as the Dornish,” I said.

The change in his expression was immediate. His jaw tightened, and his grip on his sword hilt became white-knuckled. “Watch your tongue, outsider,” he growled. “We’ve no love for those sand snakes here.”

“Good to know,” I said, my smirk widening. “But if you hate Dorne so much, perhaps you’ll appreciate this—they have no patience for Reachmen either. And it seems to me it’s better to agree with them.”

That did it. He motioned to two of his men, who spurred their horses forward without hesitation. They rode straight at me, swords drawn, their intentions clear. Fools.

Innocent people, perhaps, or perhaps heinous criminals. I didn’t care at that moment. I had to show a strong front, and fighting was the best way to do that.

I didn’t move until the last possible moment, letting them think they had the upper hand. Then, with a single, fluid motion, I drew my spear from the Inventory and swept it through the air. The first rider’s throat opened in a crimson spray, his body crumpling as he fell from his horse. The second barely had time to react before he met the same fate.

The remaining soldiers froze, and their confidence trembled. Where had I gotten this spear from? How did I deal with them so fast? They hesitated.

I didn’t give them time to recover and charged. I swung the blunt end of my spear, and I struck the next soldier across the chest, sending him tumbling backward. Another fell with a sharp crack as I struck his helmet, knocking him unconscious. By the time I was done, only their leader remained.

He stared at me, his hand frozen on his sword. I met his gaze, my voice cold. “Still want to test me?”

“You… you’re going to pay for this,” he said. “Our army-” Before he could respond, the sound of approaching hooves filled the air. A larger group of riders emerged from the tree line, their green armor gleaming in the sunlight. At the front was a man I recognized instantly—Loras Tyrell.

His horse came to a sharp halt, his gaze sweeping over the fallen soldiers before locking onto me. His expression was a mix of anger and disbelief. “What in the Seven Hells is happening here?” he demanded. “How dare you kill Tyrell soldiers right under my nose?”

“They disrespected the crown,” I said simply. “By pointing their swords at their king.”

Loras scowled, his jaw tightening. “King Joffrey sits on the throne. What are you blabbering about?” His eyes landed on Kinvara. “You- your hair… You’re that red priestess we met in Storm’s End. What are you doing here?”

I smiled, reached up, and unwrapped the cloth around my head. My silver hair spilled out, swaying in the air as I let my smile drop. Gasps rippled through the soldiers behind him, their whispers filling the air like the buzz of insects.

Kinvara chose that moment to dismount, her movements graceful despite the tension in the air. “I hope you trust the men around you, Ser Loras,” she said, her voice sharp and commanding. “For betrayal often hides in plain sight, and the betrayal of what you’re seeing right now, if it goes out of Reach, will carry a heavy price.”

It definitely would spread out of Reach, even if as a rumor. However, I wasn’t against that. That was why Kinvara and I had returned to our original appearance, for I wanted them to be a Targaryen rumor in Westeros. Like the lurking ghost of a dragon waiting to strike.

Loras’ gaze flicked to her, then back to me. “What… is this? Who are you two?” he asked, though his tone was less certain now.

“My name is Kinvara. I am the Heart of Fire, the First Priestess,” Kinvara said and then gestured to me, her voice unwavering. “This is Viserys Targaryen,” she declared. “The rightful heir to the Iron Throne. The blood of Old Valyria. The Father of Dragons.”

The murmurs grew louder, spreading like wildfire among the soldiers. Loras didn’t look convinced but didn’t dismiss it outright, either. Smart man.

“Now,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “Shall we continue this conversation in your lord’s castle? I’d rather talk with your grandmother. Or do you plan to let your men embarrass themselves further?”

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Author Note: Another chapter comes out in a few hours.