Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Highgarden Rose – Margaery Tyrell

After the Citadel, Euron set off again.

The Rose Avenue stretches forward, flanked by two rows of blooming roses, the air filled with the sweet scent of honey and flowers.

The carriage wheels rolled rhythmically over the smooth flagstones. Just as Euron was telling the children how this road connected the Old Town with Highgarden for trade, a graceful horn sounded from ahead.

A column of knights in emerald armor stood in formation, their cloaks embroidered with blooming golden roses. At the head of the column, a young nobleman in a specially made wheelchair smiled down at them. A silk blanket embroidered with intricate patterns covered his lap.

Despite his physical limitations, he maintained an elegant and aristocratic bearing.

Velas Tyrell’s voice rang out clearly: “Lord Euron, please allow me, on behalf of Highgarden, to welcome you in this land of blooming roses.”

Ashara whispered to Euron, "Veras Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden, actually came out of the city to greet you personally. The Tyrell family has shown you the utmost courtesy and given you a lot of face."

Velas keenly caught the words, smiling as he swung his wheelchair forward: "For the Lord of the Sea Beasts who has conquered the East, no welcome is too grand." His gaze swept over the four children behind Euron, and he smiled gently: "I would also like to meet these legendary young warriors who can wield dual swords."

Darren and Caesar immediately straightened their backs, and even the usually quiet Rhaenys curiously sized up the nobleman in the wheelchair. Velas seemed completely unconcerned about his disability, instead kindly introducing the different varieties of roses along the roadside to the children.

"This cluster of 'Summer Gold' blooms only at noon, while that 'Evening Star' will only release its fragrance after nightfall."

Euron noticed the exquisite design of Velas's wheelchair, with vine patterns carved on the sandalwood armrests and soft upper body panels on the rims.

The leather made almost no sound as it moved. Although the young heir had difficulty walking, he knew every blade of grass and tree along the way intimately.

Euron rode alongside Velas and laughed, "It seems we can not only enjoy the beauty of Highgarden, but also learn how to be a gardener."

Velas also burst into laughter.

The setting sun bathed the Rose Avenue in golden hues, and the two groups of people joined together to form a beautiful, winding path. Led calmly by Vilas Tyrell, the outline of Highgarden gradually appeared on the horizon, the castle known as "the most beautiful garden in Westeros," awaiting its guests from afar in the twilight.

The white walls of Highgarden gleamed in the sunlight, like a castle straight out of a fairy tale. When Euron's party passed through the final rose arch, the scene before them was somewhat unexpected.

The core members of House Tyrell were all gathered in the courtyard in front of the main castle, a level of welcome rarely seen in the Reach.

First and foremost was the petite yet imposing old woman, the "Queen of Thorns," Olenna Redwyn. She held a pearl-encrusted scepter, her sharp gaze seemingly piercing to the core. Standing beside her was her son, Mace Tyrell, the Duke of Highgarden, his full chest puffed out, his golden curls shimmering in the sunlight, and a perfectly measured, warm smile on his face.

Lady Olenna spoke first, tapping the ground lightly with her scepter, and said with a smile, "It's rare to see someone in recent years who can command the entire Tyrell family to come out in full force."

Duke Mays stepped forward, his face flushed and beaming, spreading his arms in welcome: "Highgarden always welcomes distinguished guests! Especially a legendary figure like you who has conquered the East."

Behind them, the three Tyrell children stood respectfully. Ten-year-old Garland, already showing signs of future handsomeness, held the hand of seven-year-old Loras, while five-year-old Margaery peeked out curiously from behind her brothers.

Earl Adrian and Earl Parker of the Redwin family stood on either side, having come all the way from Green Pavilion Island.

"Father," little Loras tugged at Duke Mace's sleeve and asked softly, "Is he the one who can control fire and lightning?"

This child's remark made the adults present laugh, but it also revealed the real reason why the Tyrell family had made such a big fuss: their curiosity about this mysterious Eastern conqueror was no less than their respect for his strength.

The sight of the Tyrell family's core members lining up to greet them caused even the Dornish guards accompanying them to involuntarily straighten their backs.

Such etiquette is clearly in the manner of welcoming a monarch.

Euron's gaze slowly swept over the elegantly dressed Tyrells, finally settling on Lady Olenna, and he chuckled, "Such a display..."

"I am truly flattered."

Olenna Redwyn, the "Queen of Thorns," took a small step forward, her pearl scepter gleaming warmly in the sunlight. She tilted her head slightly towards Euron, a cunning glint in her worldly-wise eyes: "Is the territory you now control and the wealth you have amassed smaller than that of the one on the Iron Throne?"

This blunt question caused Duke Mays' smile to freeze slightly, and even the surrounding servants involuntarily held their breath.

Euron calmly took the old lady's hand and gave her a proper hand-kiss, saying, "It's been many years. You are still in good health and your eyes are still sharp."

Lady Olena chuckled softly. "What you really want to say is that this old man of mine is still as sharp-tongued as ever, isn't it?"

The entire audience burst into laughter at their witty exchange.

Sunlight filtered through the rose vines twining around the pillars, casting dappled shadows between Euron and Lady Olenna. Both equally astute rulers saw admiration and wariness in each other's eyes—like the most beautiful flowers in a rose garden, which often also bear the sharpest thorns.

While the adults were still exchanging pleasantries in the hall, several children, unable to contain themselves any longer, began to spar with their wooden swords on the battlefield.

Golden sunlight bathed the training grounds of High Court, and the fine white sand felt soft and fluffy underfoot.

Darren and Caesar's swordplay was already showing promise, the crisp sound of their wooden swords clashing startling the birds on the vines. And what was most captivating...

The real focus, however, was on Rhaenys, a Dornish girl wielding a light wooden sword. Her movements were as nimble as a swallow, and every parry and thrust carried the sharpness unique to the desert.

Five-year-old Margaery Tyrell, holding a delicate rag doll and dressed in a pink silk dress adorned with pearls, stood like a little princess under the colonnade. She had intended to share her favorite embroidery patterns and doll dress with Rhaenys while she rested. But when she saw Rhaenys deftly sidestep Caesar's attack, her bright blue eyes widened instantly, and the rag doll slipped from her hands and fell to the sand.

"You—you can use a sword too?" Margaret's voice was soft, filled with disbelief and surprise.

Rhaenys finished her stance and turned, beads of sweat glistening in the sunlight on her forehead. She casually planted her wooden sword in the sand, a radiant smile spreading across her face. "In Dorne," she said, "it's as common for girls to learn swordsmanship as it is to learn to dance. Besides, I have a father who won a singles tournament and campaigned to the ends of the earth."

Margaret approached cautiously, extending her delicate white fingers to gently touch the rough wooden sword. She looked up at Rene's face, glistening with sweat yet radiant, then down at her own gold-embroidered skirt, realizing for the first time that girls could be so dashing and spirited, beyond just needlework and etiquette.

"Want to give it a try?" Renis suddenly suggested, her eyes shining with friendliness.

Margaret hesitated for a moment, then looked back towards the main castle.

On the balcony in the distance, Lady Olenna was talking to Euron, but her gaze kept sweeping over the training ground. To Ping's surprise, the "Queen of Thorns," known for her strictness, nodded slightly to her granddaughter.

With Rhaenys's help, Margaret awkwardly grasped the wooden sword. The heavy hilt made her small hands tremble slightly, but...

Those eyes, which were always lowered as they practiced embroidery, now shone with an unprecedented light.

Sunlight filtered through the rose bushes, casting dappled shadows on the two girls.

One was dashing and spirited, the other charming and lovely; on the training grounds of Highgarden, a subtle shift was occurring in perceptions of female identity. For Margaery Tyrell, this ordinary afternoon might just change her life forever.