A bitter smile touched Mina's lips. Her father had been dead for thirty years, yet her mother still spoke of him with biting sarcasm.
She poured a cup of mint tea and respectfully handed it to Olenna. "Mother, not everyone possesses your capability."
"Hearing you say that only angers me more." Olenna took the cup and sipped.
"I taught you all with care, yet you turned out like blocks of wood. Especially our Lord Pufferfish."
She deliberately used the insulting nickname for her son, Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden.
"I truly regret sparing the wooden spoon on Mace's thick skull when he was a child. I should have beaten some sense into him. Then perhaps he wouldn't have been foolish enough to let a green boy like Willas joust against the Red Viper, crippling the only sensible man in House Tyrell."
Margaery gently squeezed her grandmother's hand. "Grandmother, Willas told me it was an accident. He still corresponds with Oberyn Martell about breeding hawks and horses."
Olenna shook her head, the silver ornaments in her hair glinting in the sunlight.
"Your father, our Lord Pufferfish, thinks otherwise. He believes the Red Viper used underhanded means to cripple the heir he so desperately wanted to be the next Leo 'Longthorn'."
Mina listened in silence.
She knew of Leo "Longthorn" Tyrell, a legendary warrior and jouster in Tyrell history, revered and beloved. He was famous across the Seven Kingdoms for his skill with the lance, a champion of many tourneys.
Her brother Mace had always wanted his eldest son to inherit that legacy. But Willas had been crippled at sixteen in a joust against Oberyn Martell, condemned to walk with a cane ever since.
"Enough, Mina." Olenna turned abruptly to her daughter, her sharp gaze piercing.
"Why have you come to Highgarden to see an old woman with half her teeth missing, who needs a cane to walk and can barely hear? What do you want?"
Mina's fingers unconsciously rubbed the grape pattern on her gold bracelet.
She took a deep breath and laid out Paxter's plan in full detail.
Starting with the quality of the Amber Peach Wine, she described Starfall's organized production process and scale, and the potential future impact on House Redwyne.
She explained Paxter's wish to marry one of their sons to Lady Allyria and have Edric Dayne foster as his squire, thereby controlling the sales of the wine—or seizing control of the production entirely.
Mina held nothing back. She knew that while her mother had a sharp tongue and often mocked her family, she was a staunch defender of House Tyrell's interests.
Margaery listened with curiosity shining in her brown eyes. "Is the Amber Peach Wine truly of the same quality as Arbor Gold?"
Mina was about to answer when she noticed her mother's rare silence.
Olenna's wrinkled face betrayed no emotion, but her sharp eyes narrowed slightly, like a hawk sighting prey.
Mina knew this expression well. The Queen of Thorns was weighing the pros and cons, calculating the gains and losses.
Her mother was a Redwyne by birth; she understood perfectly what Mina had said and why Paxter was so urgent.
"Bring the Amber Peach Wine I brought," Mina ordered the handmaid standing outside the gazebo. "It's in the red wooden chest in my luggage, the oak-sealed flagon."
The handmaid hurried away. A brief silence fell over the gazebo, broken only by the sound of the fountain and distant birdsong.
Footsteps broke the silence.
Mina turned to see a slender young man approaching.
He had the signature brown curly hair of House Tyrell, tied loosely at the nape of his neck. His face was handsome as a sculpture, and his golden eyes shone like molten metal in the sun. He wore an elegant azure velvet doublet.
Mina recognized her outstanding nephew immediately—Loras Tyrell, Mace's third son.
"Aunt Mina." Loras bowed gracefully, his voice melodious as a harp. "I didn't expect to see you at Highgarden."
"Loras, aren't you squiring for Lord Renly?" Mina smiled back. "When did you return?"
Loras straightened, pride flashing in his golden eyes. "Lord Renly has knighted me. I intended to visit Grandmother, my little sister, and the rest of the family before returning to King's Landing to continue serving Lord Renly."
"Intended?" Mina caught the word. "Has something changed?"
A confident smile played on Loras's lips.
"The Maester just received a raven from Starfall. It says they are holding a grand tourney to celebrate Ser Arthur Snow drawing Dawn and becoming the new Sword of the Morning."
His eyes burned with fighting spirit. "It's a rare opportunity. I plan to go to Starfall and participate. I want to see if the Sword of the Morning lives up to the legend."
Margaery blinked in surprise. "I remember the ancestral sword Dawn isn't passed from father to son, but has it ever been passed to someone without the Dayne name? And Snow is a Northern bastard name..."
Mina noticed a glint in Olenna's eyes. The old woman remained silent, but she was clearly very interested in this news.
"Ser Arthur Snow is the bastard son of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne," Mina explained, watching her mother's reaction. "He was knighted by the Red Viper, and it is said Starfall is flourishing under his rule. The Amber Peach Wine comes from his lands."
Just then, the handmaid returned with an exquisite oak flagon.
Mina took it and poured a cup of amber liquid for everyone in the gazebo.
The wine shimmered gold in the sunlight, releasing a rich aroma of peaches and honey.
"Please, taste."
Mina handed a cup to her mother. Olenna took it but didn't drink immediately. She observed the color, swirled it gently, and inhaled the bouquet.
Finally, she brought the cup to her lips and took a small sip.
The old woman's eyes widened slightly. She took another sip, then closed her eyes, savoring the flavor.
When she opened her eyes again, Mina knew her mother had reached a verdict.
"The quality is indeed close to Arbor Gold," Olenna announced, a rare note of approval in her voice.
"Complex aroma, full body, long finish. If the production quantity and quality can be maintained as you say, it will indeed be a strong competitor to Arbor Gold in the future."
Loras and Margaery tasted the wine as well, nodding in agreement.
Loras wiped his mouth, interest sparking in his eyes. "This has a profile similar to Dornish Summerwine, but with a unique peach sweetness. Lord Renly would love this. I must buy some when I get to Starfall—with the prize money from the joust."
He turned to Margaery. "Little sister, want to come with me? I guarantee I'll crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty."
"Loras." Before Margaery could answer, Olenna's sharp gaze turned to her grandson.
"If you want to go to Starfall to play the game of knocking people off horses with sticks, be fully prepared."
Her voice turned stern. "I do not wish to see a second grandson suffer an accident in the lists."
"Grandmother, I won't let any accident happen," Loras replied confidently, his fingers brushing the hilt of his sword. "Even Garlan can't match me with a lance."
Perhaps afraid of getting pricked by the Queen of Thorns, he bowed to the group. "Excuse me, I need to prepare for the journey to Starfall."
Before leaving, he winked at Margaery, signaling her to come along.
Mina watched her nephew's retreating figure. Tall, handsome, radiating sharp confidence—he was every maiden's dream.
She couldn't help but think of her own sons, Horas and Hobber. Though the same age, they were mediocre in both looks and bearing.
Hopefully, they perform well at the tourney. At least with a helm and plate, it's a test of skill, not beauty.
Once Loras's footsteps faded, Olenna turned to her daughter.
"Paxter's judgment is accurate," Olenna said, her voice low and firm. "Taking the initiative to control this Amber Peach Wine through marriage is necessary. I support you in this."
Mina felt the tension she had carried since entering Highgarden finally release.
"And Mace..." Mina asked cautiously.
"Mace treats me like a nagging mother, either grinning like an idiot or letting my words go in one ear and out the other," Olenna said with a sneer. "But he should listen to a little of what I say."
"Marriage and fostering are mutual affairs," Olenna mused, tapping her finger on the chair arm. "Starfall is sworn to Dorne, so it might not be smooth sailing. But the Starfall Tourney is an opportunity..."
Mina understood the hint. A tourney gathering nobles from across the realm was the perfect place for negotiation and networking.
She was about to respond when Olenna waved a hand to cut her off.
"Enough, Mina. You've traveled far." The old woman's tone turned impatient. "Go rest in your old room. It's been kept for you, cleaned daily."
She paused, her voice softening just a fraction. "Join me for dinner later. We'll find our Lord Pufferfish and discuss this."
Mina's heart trembled. She hadn't expected her mother to keep her room.
For years, she had visited Highgarden only briefly, never staying overnight.
A complex mix of emotions welled up—guilt, nostalgia, and a long-lost sense of belonging.
"Thank you, Mother." Mina stood and kissed Olenna's cheek, her voice trembling slightly.
Leaving the gazebo, Mina looked back. Sunlight filtered through the rose vines, dappling her mother and Margaery in light and shadow.
Olenna was whispering something to Margaery, and the beautiful "Rose of Highgarden" listened intently, nodding occasionally.
Mina wondered what they were plotting, but she knew her mother well enough to know she would be told only when necessary.
Following the familiar corridors, Mina arrived at the oak door.
Pushing it open, she almost cried. The room was exactly as she had left it.
The four-poster bed with drapes embroidered with gold roses; the poetry books on the desk she had loved as a girl; even the white flowers on the windowsill were blooming, clearly replaced regularly.
Mina walked to the window and pushed it open.
The beauty of Highgarden lay before her—layered gardens, the winding river, distant golden wheat fields.
She took a deep breath of home, feeling the sun on her face.
In this moment, she wasn't the Lady of House Redwyne or a diplomatic envoy. She was just a daughter of Highgarden, Olenna's child.
---
Back in the gazebo, Olenna and Margaery's conversation continued.
"Grandmother, this wine is truly excellent," Margaery said, swirling the amber liquid. "I wish I could drink this every day at Highgarden."
Olenna smiled knowingly. She had raised Margaery; she knew her granddaughter didn't just want to drink the wine—she wanted House Tyrell to control the profit from it.
"Loras isn't getting any younger," Olenna said meaningfully, stroking Margaery's hair.
Margaery's eyes lit up, then dimmed. "Are you suggesting Loras marry Lady Allyria?"
She shook her head. "Loras would never like that."
"True. Loras prefers knocking men off horses with wooden sticks, but that sport doesn't make him smarter," Olenna huffed. "The only man in House Tyrell with a brain is your brother Willas, but with his leg... he can't go to Starfall."
Margaery caught the hint instantly, her brown eyes sharpening. "Grandmother, you want me to go to Starfall?"
Olenna smiled slyly, like an old fox looking at her prized kit.
"Look at how excited Loras is. The Starfall Tourney, with the allure of a new Sword of the Morning, will attract the finest young men of the Seven Kingdoms."
She looked at her granddaughter significantly.
"A gathering of power and nobility like that is exactly where the Rose of Highgarden should bloom and show her charm, instead of listening to an old woman nag all day."
Margaery rested her head on Olenna's lap. "Grandmother, I love listening to you nag. I'd rather talk to you than go to some tourney."
Olenna smoothed the hair at Margaery's temples, her voice gentle but firm.
"When Loras leaves for Starfall, take your cousins and retinue and go with him."
The old woman's eyes shone with a kindly light.
"As for what you do when you get there... do as you please. I will support you."
Margaery smiled, blooming like a rose.
Sunlight filtered through the vines, casting dappled shadows on the grandmother and granddaughter.
Outside the gazebo, the gardens of Highgarden remained as picturesque as a painting. Inside, the "Queen of Thorns" was sending her most precious "Rose" out of the greenhouse, expecting her to blossom on a wider stage.