Chapter 218: Highgarden's Support

The fresh green light filtered through the diamond-shaped stained-glass windows, casting intricate patterns across the room. A gentle breeze wafted the fragrance of roses from the courtyard, filling the space with their sweet scent.

Standing in the doorway, Samwell smiled and gave a polite nod. "Lady Olenna."

"Lord Samwell," Olenna's tone was layered with emotions she rarely let show.

She turned to her granddaughter. "Margaery, I'd like to speak to him alone."

"Of course," Margaery replied, her voice soft and respectful. She gave Samwell a reassuring glance before stepping out of the room.

Once the door closed, leaving only the two of them, Olenna let her facade drop, her expression morphing into one of cold amusement. "You certainly know how to play your hand, Lord Samwell. Forcing my son to declare a stag as a horse… that ability to twist the truth is one I admit I underestimated."

Samwell chuckled lightly as he took a seat across from her, pouring himself a cup of rose tea. "Lady Olenna, perhaps the question isn't why the Reach nobles believed my lie, but why they were so unwilling to accept Lord Mace's truth. It wasn't I who twisted facts; rather, it was Lord Mace who found himself without allies."

Olenna scoffed, unimpressed by his smooth words. "Don't flatter yourself. Do you really think you can control the Tyrells as you please? I held back only for Margaery's sake. Without my restraint, you would've found it far more difficult to pull off that charade."

"And I'm grateful for your forbearance," Samwell replied with an air of sincerity. "Lady Olenna, I know there's been tension between us, but please believe me—I have no disrespect for House Tyrell. My actions have been in defense of my own position, not out of any malice. For the future of both our houses, we should let bygones be bygones."

Olenna's expression softened a little, and she studied him with a keen, discerning gaze. She finally asked the question she'd been holding back, her voice sharp with intent: "Tell me, Samwell, do you truly intend to sit on the Iron Throne one day?"

Samwell took a calm sip of his tea, then answered in a steady voice, "I promised your granddaughter that I'd make her a queen."

"An ambitious promise," Olenna commented, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "But with a dragon at your side, who doesn't dream of becoming the next Conqueror?"

Her tone hardened. "But your dragon needs time to grow. Until then, do you know what you must do?"

"Avoid becoming a target for every rival," Samwell answered without hesitation, making it clear he'd given it thought.

"Very good," she acknowledged, smiling for the first time. "You seem to understand. I'll give you one piece of advice: the more you want the Iron Throne, the slower your ascent must be. Only those who reach the end can truly enjoy the victory."

Samwell nodded thoughtfully, interpreting her words as a strategy of patience. "Thank you, Lady Olenna. I'll remember that."

Olenna fixed her gaze on him, ensuring that her message had truly sunk in, before nodding in satisfaction. "So, what's your next move? Are you planning to aid Stannis Baratheon against the Lannisters?"

"No," Samwell answered without a pause.

"Why not?" Olenna probed, testing his reasoning.

"If I help Stannis secure the throne, he'd see me as a threat, not an ally—because I have a dragon," Samwell replied calmly. "And it wouldn't only be him. The Starks, Arryns, and Tullys waged a rebellion once to drive the dragons out of Westeros. Now, seeing me with a dragon, they'll likely harbor the same suspicion."

"Quite right," Olenna nodded, clearly impressed. "Your ties to Stannis through marriage mean little here. The Florents only support you because they're angling for leverage in the Reach. Once they have no further need for you, Alester would be the first to denounce you as a Blackfyre and rally the Reach to attack Eagle's Point."

Samwell nodded solemnly; her assessment was painfully accurate. The Florents were an unreliable ally, their loyalty always leaning toward Stannis first.

"So, Samwell," Olenna continued, "what should your position, or rather the Reach's position, be in the coming conflict?"

"I already have enmity with House Lannister," Samwell said thoughtfully. "Thus, I'll officially support Stannis—only in name. In reality, I'll let the wolves, stags, falcons, and fish fight the lions without interference from us."

"Is it only neutrality you plan to offer?" Olenna inquired, her gaze probing.

"Not entirely. During this time, we'll strengthen ourselves."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Olenna pressed.

"The Reach borders Dorne, the Stormlands, and the Westerlands. If we wish to expand, those are our options." Samwell carefully chose his words. "First, attacking the Westerlands would be foolish. We'd bring the lion's fury upon ourselves, making us a distraction for Stannis. Second, invading the Stormlands is inadvisable, given our declared allegiance to Stannis. That leaves Dorne. Besides, since the Dornish are allied with the Lannisters, weakening them would be weakening the enemy. Stannis can't say that we're just standing idly by. "

"Dorne, you say?" Olenna laughed drily. "Do you really think a single dragon will let you conquer Dorne? Aegon the Conqueror had three dragons—all fully grown—and even he couldn't subjugate them."

"I'm aware that Dorne is notoriously difficult to conquer," Samwell acknowledged. "But it's our best option right now. Besides, we have Nathalie Dayne. Installing her family to replace House Martell might lessen resistance."

Olenna shook her head. "You underestimate Dorne and House Martell. Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken—those aren't just words to them. For centuries, they've been one of the weaker families, yet they've never been defeated."

Seeing Samwell's silence, Olenna continued, "If you think about the First Dornish War, you'll see the reality. Do you know how many people died?"

"Not exactly," Samwell admitted.

"The First Dornish War raged for nine years—a full nine years despite the Targaryens' three adult dragons. Dorne's cities were burned to the ground, repeatedly, until even the sands around them turned to glass. Plague, famine, drought—it was a cursed land. The death toll defied counting.

"And yet, the Martells never surrendered. Princess Meria swore she'd rather see her people extinct than enslaved to dragons. Though they couldn't match the Targaryens in open battle, they became masters of guerrilla tactics, assassination, and poison. Their relentless strikes and ambushes claimed countless nobles, even the Conqueror himself narrowly escaped assassination thrice. His queen, Visenya, was ambushed, and Rhaenys was captured, tortured, and killed by the Ullers."

Olenna held Samwell's gaze, her words a sobering warning. "The Conqueror finally learned he couldn't rule Dorne. They are a people who loathe dragons, Samwell. March into Dorne with yours, and you'll be met with centuries of rage. Nathalie Dayne cannot help you there."

Samwell was quiet, weighed down by the brutal reality Olenna painted.

"I suppose Dorne would rather die than submit," he conceded. "But what other option do we have?"

"There is another option," Olenna said.

"Where?"

"The Stormlands."

Samwell's brows furrowed. "But wouldn't that provoke Stannis? If I'm already against the Lannisters, I'd risk antagonizing everyone in Westeros. If the nobles of the Reach think I'm ready to wage war on the whole realm, they'll turn on me."

"Under normal circumstances, yes," Olenna replied. "But the Lannisters made a critical mistake. You now have an opportunity." She handed him a letter. "This came from King's Landing—a new decree."

Samwell scanned the letter and his eyes gleamed. "The king has legitimized Robert's bastard—and named him Lord of Storm's End?"

A smile spread over his face. "Stannis will never accept the boy's claim! And we can march on the Stormlands, claiming to defend Baratheon honor."

"Precisely," Olenna agreed. "The Stormlands are far wealthier and much easier to subdue than Dorne. Plus, they're just a river and a forest away from King's Landing. If the Starks and Lannisters begin to fall, it will be easier to intervene."

Samwell's mind raced through her strategy. Storm's End was indeed a smarter choice. Stannis would quietly accept the Reach's involvement, and with the Lannister-backed bastard providing an excuse, the nobles of the Reach wouldn't see it as reckless.

"Good," he finally said. "Then the Stormlands it is."

"One more thing," Olenna warned. "Don't underestimate Dorne. Prince Doran is a patient man, not easily outmaneuvered. Be wary."

"I understand," Samwell nodded. "Lady Olenna, since you approve, may I ask about Margaery and our engagement?"

"An engagement is acceptable," Olenna replied, "but the wedding will wait after three years."

Samwell smiled, he had long guessed that Lady Olenna would not agree to marriage immediately, but isn't three years perhaps too long?

Or maybe he could just get Margaery pregnant and see if Lady Olenna will still hold back her granddaughter.

Well, an idea worth noting.

Samwell smiled innocently: "Alright."

Perhaps worried that this would discourage Samwell, Lady Olenna added,

"Don't worry. After the engagement, House Tyrell will be your solid backing. We will fully support you in ascending the Iron Throne."

"I Understand."

"Now, on behalf of House Tyrell, I'll give you the first gift." Lady Olenna smiled and handed over a parchment scroll.

Samwell took it and unfolded it, and found it was a letter of appointment as a Viscount.

At the same time, the title column on his attribute panel immediately changed to Viscount of Eagle's Nest.

It also comes with five free attributes.

(End of this chapter)