Chapter 307: The End of the Road
Ser Garrett Flower found Lord Mace Tyrell in his chambers, drinking wine as though it might drown his troubles.
"What is it? Did Caesar agree to the exchange?" Mace asked, his voice slurred from drink.
"No, Lord Mace," Garrett said grimly. "Caesar refused to trade Loras for Kevan. And the Horse Faction's army is already marching on Highgarden."
Crash!
Mace's goblet fell to the ground, spilling wine across the stone floor.
He froze in place, his face pale and stunned. After several long moments, he stammered, "W-what should we do? What can we do?"
A flash of disdain crossed Garrett's eyes, but he stepped forward to support the lord's trembling arm and whispered, "My father has instructed me to get you out of Highgarden."
"So, we run?" Mace moaned, his voice pitiful.
"There's no other choice. We don't have enough soldiers to face the Horse Faction. If we wait until they lay siege, there will be no escape."
"Then let's go! Quickly!" Mace exclaimed, jolting to his feet.
"Not yet, Lord Mace," Garrett said, holding him back. "You need to change out of those clothes first. And we'll wait until after sunset to leave, for safety and secrecy."
"Secrecy?" Mace blinked. "We're not taking an army?"
"If we take an army, we'll only be hunted down more quickly. I can only bring a handful of loyal guards to sneak you out. It's the only way to evade the Horse Faction."
"What about the others in the family?"
"We can't take them all."
"What about my mother? And Alerie?"
"Lady Olenna is Caesar's sworn target—if you take her, the Horse Faction will never stop hunting you. As for Lady Alerie, she's a Hightower; they'll likely send her back to Oldtown. They won't harm her. So you need to flee alone."
"I... I..." Mace wavered, then finally slumped, defeated. "Fine. I'll go with you."
Garrett breathed a sigh of relief and began to guide Mace to change into less conspicuous clothing.
"Where will we go?" Mace asked suddenly, panic creeping into his voice again.
"To the Arbor," Garrett replied, his eyes glinting. "Only Lord Paxter Redwyne can save you now."
"Very well..."
---
Highgarden
Ser Garth Tyrell, Highgarden's steward, ascended the spiral staircase to the top of the keep, where he found Lady Olenna Tyrell standing on the balcony, gazing out at the gardens below.
"Garrett has returned?" Olenna asked without turning her head.
"Yes," Garth confirmed, stepping beside her but hesitating to speak further.
"Caesar refused, didn't he?"
"He did," Garth admitted. "And they're already marching toward Highgarden."
"Hah!" Olenna scoffed bitterly. "So, Caesar and his little cronies truly despise me to the bone."
Garth said nothing.
"I was foolish," Olenna continued, a bitter smile curling her lips. "I thought handing over Kevan Lannister would satisfy Caesar. But after what happened at Bloodstone Island, the boy has learned his lesson well."
"Caesar has promised that if you take your own life, he will spare Loras," Garth said cautiously, "though he must join the Night's Watch."
"And you? Do you also think I should die?"
Garth remained silent, but his lack of response was answer enough.
"I understand," Olenna said at last, her face calm as if she had already accepted her fate.
Indeed, what other choice did the Tyrells have? Garth remained silent, knowing the truth of her words.
Highgarden could not muster the forces to oppose the Horse Faction. Better to surrender early and avoid unnecessary bloodshed.
"I've already arranged for Mace to leave the castle," Garth said. "While Caesar may spare him, I can't say the same for certain Horse Faction lords."
"Indeed," Olenna agreed, her tone icy. "The Reach is full of families eager to unseat the Tyrells. All my years of maneuvering, and I still failed to truly strengthen our house."
"Tyrells lack for neither wealth, grain, nor political allies," Garth mused. "But we've never had a knight who dominates the battlefield. Caesar could have filled that role for us, but—"
"No," Olenna interrupted sharply. "Caesar was never meant to serve us. From the moment he gained a dragon, I knew he was beyond our grasp.
"I don't regret trying to eliminate him—only that I didn't act sooner. I thought we had time, but he grew too quickly... just like that dragon of his. Unnaturally fast.
"No, my true mistake was hesitation. I should have struck him down before he had a chance to rise."
"Perhaps," Garth sighed. "But it's too late for regrets. This game is lost, Olenna. You must pay the price."
He reached into his cloak and produced a small vial, offering it to her.
"What is it?" Olenna asked, her sharp eyes scrutinizing the bottle.
"Essence of nightshade," Garth replied. "It will let you pass peacefully in your sleep."
"How kind of you, Garth," Olenna said dryly, taking the vial with trembling hands. "Even granting me the dignity of a clean death."
Despite the wry smile on her lips, her voice carried no malice.
"No matter what, you've devoted your life to the Tyrells," Garth said solemnly. "Though we find ourselves at this low point, it's not entirely your fault.
"The Tyrells have always struggled for legitimacy. The Reach is filled with proud and powerful houses, and holding the lordship of Highgarden has never been easy—especially with someone like Caesar in the mix."
Olenna chuckled softly. "So, the roses wilt for winter. But no matter—we'll bloom again in spring. Just make sure the roots survive."
"I've already taken measures to deal with certain... unruly branches," Garth assured her.
"And Kevan?"
"He'll be handed over to Caesar. It's better to give him up and preserve some semblance of peace with the Lannisters than to let him die in our custody."
"Good. You're a capable man, Garth." Olenna's voice softened. "I once considered naming you Lord of Highgarden after Luthor's death."
"You jest"
"Ti's true," said Lady Olenna. "I know my son's character. He is too foolish and weak to shoulder this responsibility. If I had made you the Lord of Highgarden, perhaps everything would be different."
Garth shook his head firmly. "You overestimate me. If I had taken the lordship, the Reach would have erupted in rebellion. Some things are destined, and I am destined not to inherit anything."
Olenna studied his face, her sharp eyes searching for any trace of deceit. But Garth's gaze held steady, unwavering in its sincerity.
At last, Olenna smiled faintly. "You're the cleverest fool I've ever known, Garth."
He exhaled softly, relieved, and bowed his head.
"No, Olenna. My strength lies in knowing my limits."
"And that is true wisdom," Olenna murmured. "Stay out of the game, and you'll never lose it."
Her hands trembled as she uncorked the vial. A sweet, cloying aroma filled the air.
Without hesitation, Olenna downed the contents.
"It's quite sweet," she remarked with a faint smile as her expression softened into serenity.
Garth's eyes reddened as he rested a hand on her shoulder. After a moment, he whispered the Tyrell motto:
"Growing strong."
"Growing strong," Olenna echoed, her voice tinged with bitter irony. "The worst family words I've ever heard—so utterly uninspiring."
Garth said nothing more. He bowed deeply, then left the room.
As Olenna turned her gaze eastward, she seemed to be looking for something—or someone—far away.
"Growing strong," she whispered again, her vision dimming.
"Ah, Margaery... you're the true Tyrell."
Her voice faded into silence.
(End of Chapter)