Chapter 269: Warning

The two of them walked through the front hall, then crossed the courtyard into the garden. Margaery, who was familiar with the Arbor Hall, introduced Samwell to the various flowers in bloom. She then led him to a balcony that jutted out, offering a view of the Mander River.

The sun was setting, and the golden afterglow rippled on the river's surface, flashing as it broke and reformed with the gentle waves. Occasionally, flying fish would leap from the water, scattering the shimmering light before it quickly reassembled.

"Four years ago, I came here with Garlan," Margaery said as they leaned against the railing. "It was then that I met Leonette Fossoway. She was so beautiful, and she played the harp so well that she immediately captured Garlan's heart. When we returned to Highgarden, he almost immediately asked Father to arrange a proposal to House Fossoway.

"They were married within a month. Sam, do you remember attending their wedding?"

Samwell's thoughts churned. That was before I crossed over into this world... Instead, he nodded vaguely.

The original Samwell's memories were hazy at best, but he faintly recalled accompanying Randyll Tarly to the wedding. As for Leonette's face, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall her features.

"The apples are ripe." Margaery pointed to a nearby apple tree as they passed beneath it, gesturing toward the red apples hanging above.

"Do you want one?"

"Mm."

Without a word, Samwell kicked the trunk of the tree. A shower of apples rained down in response.

Margaery shrieked in surprise and darted into his arms, shielding her head.

When the apples stopped falling, Samwell bent down to pick up two, wiping them on his sleeve before handing one to Margaery.

She accepted it with a smile and took a bite. "It's so sweet."

Samwell bit into his own apple and nodded. "Very sweet."

"Sam, do you know why the Fossoway sigil is a red apple?" Margaery asked. "It's because their ancestor, Archer Fossoway, once shot an apple off the head of the woman he loved."

With that, she placed the bitten apple atop her head. "Can you shoot the apple off my head?"

Samwell chuckled and shook his head. "I wouldn't aim an arrow at you."

"Afraid you'll miss?" Margaery teased, likely recalling Samwell's dismal archery display at the last hunting feast.

"Yes." Samwell shrugged. "But even if I were the finest archer in the world, I wouldn't shoot at you. No matter how small the chance of hurting you, I wouldn't take that risk."

Margaery lowered the apple from her head, her expression suddenly somber.

"But sometimes, we have to take risks..."

Her words struck a chord, and Samwell's mind turned to the current crisis. Highgarden was like the beloved woman, and the rebel forces were the apple perched precariously above her head. To resolve the situation would indeed take a bold and precise strike, one that required immense courage—and carried inevitable risks.

He fell silent, lost in thought.

The two strolled through the garden before returning to the keep.

By then, Lady Olenna had concluded her discussion with Ser Tanton Fossoway, who promptly departed for Highgarden.

"Grandmother, what were their terms?" Margaery asked.

"You wouldn't want to know their terms," Olenna replied coolly. "But I've given them ours. Let's hope Arwyn Oakheart and her lot have a shred of reason left."

Samwell suspected that the rebels' terms likely included his head on a pike. As for Olenna's conditions... he was curious but knew she had no intention of revealing them.

---

After dinner, Samwell returned to his room. He debated whether he should spend the night in the army camp outside the castle.

Although it was unlikely that Lady Olenna would actually trade his life for Highgarden, the possibility couldn't be entirely dismissed.

Just as he was mulling it over, a knock sounded at his door.

Opening it, he was greeted by the sight of Margaery standing there, radiant as always.

"Good evening, my knight."

Samwell smiled and pulled her into his arms. "What brings you here?"

"I came to keep you company," Margaery replied sweetly, tilting her head to look up at him. Her rosy fragrance lingered in the air.

Samwell understood. She likely shared his concern that Lady Olenna might sacrifice him and had come to offer reassurance.

"Am I unwelcome?" she asked playfully.

"Of course not." Samwell shut the door behind her. "But I'm a restless sleeper—I might accidentally hurt you."

"Then I'll sleep in armor," Margaery quipped, breaking into laughter.

Samwell laughed with her, the tension in his heart easing away.

---

Three days passed at the Cider Hall with no word from Highgarden. But finally, lord Randyll Tarly arrived, leading the northern army's main force.

As soon as he entered the castle, Randyll sought out his son for a private conversation.

"I understand the situation," Randyll said without preamble. "My advice is for you to return to Storm's End immediately. Leave the rest to us."

Samwell was taken aback by his father's serious tone.

"Surely it hasn't gotten that bad?"

"Worse than you think," Randyll replied gravely. "The Ironborn, Longtable, the Cider Hall, Old Oak—perhaps even the Redwyne Fleet—all have been swayed by the Lannisters. Tywin has clearly invested immense resources to stir this rebellion.

"Given all the preparation he's made, he won't let us resolve this easily. I know that old lion better than you. Once he sinks his teeth into a prey, he won't let go until it's dead.

"As long as you remain in the Reach, you're a major liability. Only by removing yourself from the equation can Tywin's plans unravel and Lady Olenna's resolve solidify.

"Understand this: to her, you'll never be as important as Highgarden, her son, or her grandsons."

Samwell considered his father's words. They made sense.

The rebels' ultimate goal was to force House Tyrell to support King Tommen Lannister. Such an alliance would require more than verbal promises.

The rebels had already burned their bridges with the Tyrells. They needed tangible proof of Tyrell loyalty—a bloody price.

Samwell's head was the most fitting sacrifice.

If he fled to Storm's End, their plan would fall apart.

"But what about Margaery?" Samwell asked. "If I leave, they might force her to drink moon tea and marry King Tommen instead."

"Then take her with you to Storm's End," Randyll said bluntly. "You've already announced your engagement. Marrying her would be perfectly legitimate."

"And have her hate me for the rest of her life?"

"When I cast you out three years ago, I was prepared for you to hate me forever. If you want to achieve great things, you can't let sentimentality hold you back."

Samwell stared at his father, unable to accept his cold and ruthless worldview.

Randyll remained unfazed. "This is about priorities. You need to give up the Reach and claim the Stormlands. That's where your true power lies. The Reach will never truly be yours as long as the Tyrells hold it.

"What you can't control will ultimately betray you."

Samwell lowered his head in silence, deep in thought.

Randyll waited patiently, giving his son time to weigh his options.

Finally, Samwell raised his head, his resolve clear.

"Sorry, Father. I've decided to stay. I won't run away like a coward."

"So you're staying to play the hero?"

Samwell laughed. "What's so bad about being a hero?"

Randyll, stone-faced, replied,

"In the Game of Thrones, heroes rarely meet a good end."

"Then I'll be the exception." Samwell smiled faintly. "I already have a plan..."

At that moment, a rapid, urgent knock came at the door.

Samwell opened it to find Margaery, her face streaked with tears.

"What happened?" he asked, pulling her into his arms.

"Sam... he's back... from Highgarden..." Margaery sobbed, her words barely coherent.

"Who's back? The envoy? Ser Tanton Fossoway? Did he bring the rebels' reply?"

"He... he brought back... Allana's head..." Margaery choked out through her tears.

Samwell froze. Allana Tyrell, Margaery's cousin. He had met her a few times—a shy but beautiful girl who had grown up with Margaery and was very close to her.

So this was the rebels' response? Ruthless and unequivocal.

Turning, Samwell met his father's cold gaze.

Return to Storm's End, Randyll's eyes seemed to say.

But could he really leave now?

Margaery trembled in his arms, her tears soaking his chest. Memories of their time together flooded his mind.

"I, Margaery Tyrell, daughter of Mace Tyrell, in the name of the Warden of the Reach, the Defender of the South, and the Lord of Highgarden, hereby appoint Samwell Tarly as a knight..." At their first meeting, she knighted him.

"...Those refugees will have a better life as your subjects. You won't disappoint me, will you, my knight?" At the Great Sept of Baelor, she offered him generous help.

"...You are not a Kingslayer. You deposed a false king; you are a kingdeposer!" Outside the walls of Skyreach, she climbed onto his horse, even though he had just made a deadly enemy of the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms.

"...Come back to Highgarden with me. Don't you want to marry me officially?" At the Eagle Nest, she spoke to him candidly.

Memories flooded back, and Samwell's resolve grew stronger.

He would not leave.

When "the Archer" shot the apple off his beloved's head, he must have had a heart as steady as a rock.

Now, the same need to be done to Samwell Caesar's Heart.

(End of Chapter)