Chapter 253: Dire News

Bitterbridge

"Grandmother, what brings you here personally?" Margaery Tyrell greeted Lady Olenna with a bright smile, helping her down from the carriage.

"Do you think I could stay away?" Lady Olenna snapped, casting her granddaughter a sharp look. "I told you to tread carefully, but no, you wouldn't listen! Do you insist on leaving the Tyrells no room to retreat before you're satisfied?"

"Wavering is worse than anything, Grandmother. You taught me that yourself."

"And I also taught you never to bet all your chips on one stake. Did you forget that?"

"But Sam is worth the risk." Margaery clasped her grandmother's arm, gently shaking it. "Surely, you've heard the latest news by now. The Northern Army not only defeated the Stormlands' northern coalition but also crushed the royalist southern forces of sixty thousand. They've already taken Bronze gate. Storm's End is now exposed to the Reach's forces. Who knows? It might fall at any moment."

"No one has ever successfully taken Storm's End," Lady Olenna replied evenly.

"Before this, no one had ever carved out a domain in the Red Mountains in two years, or drawn the legendary sword Dawn unless they were a Dayne, or brought dragons back into the world after their extinction. Sam always creates miracles, and I'm sure he'll make history again at Storm's End."

Lady Olenna gave a wry chuckle. "What kind of spell has that boy cast on you?" She sighed deeply and then met her granddaughter's gaze with rare seriousness. "But have you thought about what happens if you marry him? The Tyrells will be completely tied to House Caesar. Either we soar with him to the sky, or we accompany him to the depths of hell. There will be no turning back."

"I've thought about it," Margaery said with a serene smile, her hand drifting to her still-flat stomach. "Sam has a dragon, Grandmother. He'll take House Tyrell to the skies."

Lady Olenna sighed again. "I hope you won't regret this in the future."

"I won't." Margaery's gaze softened as she touched her abdomen. "What choice do I have, Grandmother? You wouldn't really give me a cup of moon tea, would you?"

"Hmph!" Lady Olenna huffed. "If I gave you moon tea, that brat would hate me forever. The Reach would probably split in two."

"Then does that mean you've agreed to let us marry sooner?"

Lady Olenna nodded grudgingly, her expression showing clear reluctance. "Yes."

"Truly? Thank you, Grandmother!" Margaery exclaimed, throwing her arms around her grandmother and kissing her cheek in delight.

After calming down, she asked, "When should we hold the wedding? After the war ends?"

"Can we afford to wait that long?" Lady Olenna cast a glance at Margaery's yet-unnoticeable pregnancy. "We'd best arrange it as soon as possible."

"But Sam is fighting on the front lines. We can't ask him to pull back for a wedding."

"Of course not. With the Reach's forces advancing so smoothly, there's no reason to call them back. Let's go to the Stormlands instead. We'll hold a modest ceremony in the army camp."

"Alright."

The grandmother and granddaughter set off eastward along the Rose Road. But when they reached Greenstone, a raven brought devastating news.

"Highgarden has been taken by rebels and the Ironborn?" Margaery's eyes widened as she stared at the Maester of House Meadows in disbelief.

"Yes," the Maester replied, handing over several letters. "At first, I couldn't believe it either, but multiple lords near Highgarden have confirmed the news."

Lady Olenna remained composed as she scanned the letters. Then she said coldly, "It was the Oakhearts! Someone saw Lady Arwyn mobilizing troops under the pretense of reinforcing the Stormlands. I never expected…"

"The Shield Islands gave no warning?"

"None." Lady Olenna's voice grew sharper. "The Oakhearts aren't acting alone. Other houses must be complicit in this betrayal."

"Should we recall Sam and the army?" Margaery asked, her face pale.

After a moment of thought, Lady Olenna nodded. "Yes. This isn't just about fighting the Ironborn. There are enemies within the Reach that must be dealt with. If we're not careful, this could lead to a civil war."

"Understood. I'll arrange for a message to be sent immediately." Loras Tyrell rose and left.

Lady Olenna took Margaery's cold hand in hers and said, "Now you see why I didn't want you to rush into marrying Samwell."

Margaery opened her mouth, but no words came. She looked toward the distant Highgarden, her eyes glistening with tears.

---

At Storm's End

Boom!

The ground shook violently, as though struck by a colossal hammer. Yet the walls of Storm's End stood firm, unyielding.

Samwell Caesar frowned as he watched from a distance. He dismounted his dragon, Cleopatra, and sighed. "It seems Melisandre was right. The walls of Storm's End are fortified by powerful magic. Gunpowder won't work here."

Lord Randyll Tarly, standing nearby, nodded, unperturbed. "Storm's End was never meant to be easily taken. Our best course is to maintain the siege while conquering the surrounding territories in the Stormlands."

Samwell nodded in agreement, though he couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment. He had long dreamed of making Storm's End his own—a castle renowned not only for its size and strength but for its symbolic significance.

But he knew his father's advice was wise. Rushing the siege might only lead to unnecessary losses.

"There's no rush," Samwell muttered to himself. "The Lannisters are still tied up with the Northern Lords. They won't intervene in the Stormlands anytime soon. We have time to slowly dismantle the Stormlands' defenses, one piece at a time."

Once the surrounding Stormlands were subdued, Storm's End would be isolated. By then, even the lords inside might turn against their illegitimate Baratheon lord for his inability to defend them.

And if that didn't happen, there was always another option: marching on King's Landing.

King's Landing would be far easier to assault than Storm's End, especially after Stannis Baratheon's failed attempt had depleted much of its wildfire reserves. If they seized the Iron Throne, the Baratheon bastard's claim would crumble, and the Stormlords would topple him themselves.

For now, however, Samwell set these ambitions aside and asked his father, "What's your next move, Father?"

"I've received word that Lord Rowan's southern forces have reached Raven's Roost and are advancing through the Rainwood toward the south of Cape Wrath. Between us, only Griffin's Roost remains. I'll give you a force to take it, uniting the northern and southern armies. Meanwhile, I'll march north to deal with the scattered Stormland forces around the Crownlands."

Samwell nodded. "And how many will you leave behind to maintain the siege here?"

"Five thousand should suffice," Randyll replied. "Storm's End is severely undermanned, and their leader seems too timid to risk a sortie."

Samwell couldn't argue with that. The Baratheon bastard had shown little courage, clearly chosen by the Lannisters for political convenience rather than military prowess.

"Any updates on the Arbor fleet?" Samwell asked, glancing toward the waters of Shipbreaker Bay. "Without a navy, it's hard to fully cut Storm's End off."

"Nothing from Paxter Redwyne yet," Randyll admitted. "But according to the plan, they're attacking the Stepstones first. Once they've secured the isles, they'll move to blockade Storm's End."

Samwell sighed. The Arbor's lord, an ardent supporter of the Baratheons, had been a reluctant ally from the start. His cooperation was begrudging at best.

Randyll patted his son's shoulder. "Don't worry about Paxter. He'll come through. With Lady Olenna's support, he won't dare do otherwise."

Samwell nodded and turned to gather his men, ready to march on Griffin's Roost.

(End of Chapter)