Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 184 The Highgarden Incident
Olena's emaciated body trembled slightly with anger. "Do you know what you're doing?"

Margaery's mind was made up, and her voice rose, "Grandmother, my mind is made up! Renly was right when he said that I am no longer a member of House Tyrell, but the Regent Queen of Stormlands!"

These words made Olena take a step back in shock. For the first time, she saw a strange light in her granddaughter's eyes.

The wind outside the window blew even harder, the curtains fluttered frequently, and raindrops pattered against the windowsill, making a crisp sound.

"You've fallen in love with him? You've only met a few times?"

"Some people can spend a lifetime together and never develop feelings, while for others, one meeting is enough."

"Does Rahalo know about this?"

"He had already left when I found out."

Olena looked at her once gentle and lovely granddaughter again, and saw that her eyes were full of determination. Olena sighed heavily and her voice softened.

"what's your plan?"

Margaret softened her tone, "My child with Laharo will inherit the title of Duke of Stormland."

Finally, Olena sighed, looking extremely tired: "Are you really determined?"

Margaret nodded.

“I am looking for a new way out for the family. If Lahallo succeeds in taking the Iron Throne, the Tyrell family will gain a status they have never had before.”

"What if he fails?"

“Then I will bear the consequences alone,” Margaret said. “I will never let High Court get involved.”

Olena stared at her granddaughter for a long time, her eyes filled with both worry and a hint of pride. The courage and decisiveness she displayed reminded her of herself when she was young.

“I don’t support your plan,” Olena said, “but I won’t object either. This is the path you’ve chosen, and you’ll walk it alone.”

Margaret smiled genuinely for the first time during the conversation. "Thank you, Grandmother."

Olena stood up, ready to leave, but stopped abruptly at the door: "Remember, Margaery, Westeros is not a playground. One wrong step and you're doomed."

Margaret nodded, her doe-like eyes revealing a resolute look: "I will keep your teachings in mind."

...

Meanwhile, the Highgarden Castle Hall was brightly lit, filled with melodious music, and the atmosphere was lively.

Mace Tyrell joyfully hosted a grand banquet to celebrate the marriage alliance between House Tyrell and House Baratheon. Almost all the important nobles and family members of Highgarden were present, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter and merriment.

Mace wore a green brocade robe with roses embroidered in gold thread along the hem, and the Tyrell family's gold rose badge was pinned to her chest.

He was beaming with joy, constantly clinking glasses with the guests, as if he had already forgotten the headaches of the past few days.

"To my daughter, the future Queen!" Mace raised her glass and proclaimed, "To the alliance between House Tyrell and the Royal Family!"

Everyone raised their glasses in response, but Velas sat quietly in a corner, feeling depressed, and did not participate in the celebration.

He was trying to persuade his father to maintain a friendly relationship with Lahalo, and things were just starting to get going when the eunuch Varys ruined it.

“Father seems very happy,” Loras said in a low voice, standing next to Velas. “He’s getting old, and his judgment isn’t what it used to be.”

Velas shook his head with a wry smile: "You mean, Father used to have good judgment?"

The two looked at each other and smiled bitterly.

Loras sighed. "The only one who suffers is our sister Margaret. Is this what you call family honor—pushing her into the fire?"

Just then, Mace staggered over, his face flushed, clearly unable to hold his liquor.

“My sons! Why don’t you join us? This is a great occasion for the family!” A hint of helplessness flashed in Loras’s eyes. He was about to turn and leave when Velas grabbed him.

Velas forced a smile: "Father, please drink less."

“I’m so happy today!” Mace mumbled. “The High Bishop of King’s Landing has pardoned Garland’s sins, and Margaery is about to become Queen. House Tyrell will enjoy unprecedented glory! May the Seven Gods protect us!”

Loras couldn't help but retort, "Really? You really believe the Lannisters would treat Margaery well, even if they suspect us of colluding with Laharlal?"

Mays was somewhat annoyed. "This is politics, kids. We have to compromise to protect the family's interests. Margaret will understand; she's always been a sensible child."

Loras was about to retort when he noticed that his father's face had become unusually flushed, even turning somewhat purple.

"Father, how do you feel?"

“It’s nothing,” Mace waved her hand, “I’m just a little hot, probably from drinking too much…”

Before he could finish speaking, Mays suddenly started coughing violently.

It started as a mild cough, but it quickly became more and more severe until he bent over and coughed up a mouthful of blood, which splattered onto the white marble floor, looking extremely glaring.

"Father!" Loras exclaimed, rushing forward to support the swaying Mace.

The entire hall fell silent instantly, the music stopped abruptly, and everyone's eyes were fixed on the father and his two sons.

Mace's face was deathly pale, her eyes filled with terror, as if she realized something terrible had happened to her.

Velas, his face filled with anxiety, shouted, "Quickly, call the maester! Father has been poisoned!"

These words were like a bomb, causing a huge uproar in the hall. The guests panicked, some screamed, some ran away, and the scene was chaotic.

Loras clung tightly to his father's swaying body, feeling a fear he had never known before.

His father was struggling in agony in his arms, his life slipping away at a visible speed.

"Father, hold on!" Loras cried, tears streaming down his face. "The maester is coming soon!"

Mays' lips trembled as she tried to say something, but she could only cough up more blood, her eyes filled with reluctance.

The High Court's chief scholar finally arrived, knelt beside Mace, and examined Mace's body while sweating profusely. His expression then grew increasingly grave.

“The master has been poisoned with a deadly poison,” the scholar said in a low voice. “I’m afraid there is no antidote.”

Loras felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, unable to believe his ears: "There must be a way! There must be!"

Velas had already ordered the guards to seal off the hall and not allow anyone to leave, and his gaze finally fell on the Grand Eunuch Varys.

Velas pointed at Varys, "Grab him!"

The guards immediately surrounded Varys and restrained him. Varys did not resist, but looked at Mace lying on the ground with a complicated expression.

Mays' breathing became extremely weak, her body convulsed, the light in her eyes gradually dimmed, and she finally breathed her last.

Loras was devastated and wept bitterly, clutching his father's body. Velas stood to the side, wiping away his tears, feeling only a chilling coldness.

The feast turned into a funeral, and the celebration turned into mourning.

Varys was escorted by guards past Mace's body, his face ashen.

“I swear to the Seven Gods, this was not my doing.”

“That’s not important,” Velas said coldly, “What’s important is that only by killing you can we show the Highgarden’s position to the Seven Kingdoms.”

(End of this chapter)