Harlan's thoughts raced, but on the surface, he bowed deeply, full of deference and apology, the very picture of a proper butler.
"Congratulations to Your Grace Aegon on your triumphant victory at the Battle of the Fields," Harlan said respectfully.
Aegon, seated atop Balerion, looked down at him with a cold, expressionless gaze. "You're clever," he said coolly, "but clever men rarely live long."
"Your Grace Aegon, I have always been wholeheartedly loyal to your rule. When Mern IX summoned his vassals to wage war against you, I, though serving as his close advisor and butler, withstood immense pressure and refused to raise troops. Does that not prove my loyalty?" Harlan said earnestly, with a touch of grievance on his face.
"Enough. Your glib tongue has spared you punishment for your earlier offense," Aegon said lightly.
"Tyrell seeks no reward for any merit—only to serve the Targaryen dynasty with devotion. I have heard of Your Grace's famed mercy. Since you've shown such mercy to the North, I humbly ask that you extend a measure of it to House Tyrell as well.
Your Grace, please enter. This is your castle—how could I dare take precedence over you?" Harlan said humbly.
He gestured for his household guards to open the castle gates and respectfully invited Aegon to enter, though Aegon had no need to use Highgarden's gates to enter the castle.
To dispel any potential suspicion Aegon might harbor, Harlan decisively waved his hand, signaling all soldiers on the walls and within the city to withdraw.
Maintaining a respectful expression, he jogged ahead, guiding the massive Balerion to land slowly within the botanical gardens.
As Aegon prepared to dismount, Harlan immediately stepped forward, dropped to both knees, and prostrated himself on the ground, offering his back as a foothold to help Aegon dismount smoothly.
"Your Grace, you have traveled far. Please, come rest for a moment in the pavilion," Harlan said humbly, turning slightly, bowing, and extending his hand in invitation.
Aegon gave a small nod and walked forward, with Harlan closely following behind.
Inside the pavilion, Harlan hurried to the stone table, deftly picked up the teapot, gently lifted it, and slowly poured tea into a delicate cup. Holding the teacup with both hands, he carefully offered it to Aegon. "Your Grace, please enjoy some tea."
To prove his loyalty, Harlan picked up another cup, took a small sip, then set it down and respectfully said, "The tea is safe, Your Grace. Please drink with confidence."
Aegon picked up his cup, his gaze falling on Harlan. "You're far too fawning—it's rather affected."
Harlan stood with his feet together, like a scolded schoolboy, quietly enduring Aegon's reprimand.
Aegon took a slow sip and said, "When Mern IX summoned his vassals to arms, you chose to defy his orders and refrained from raising troops against the Targaryen dynasty. That was, indeed, an act of submission."
Harlan bowed slightly, his tone earnest as he pleaded again, "Please allow me to restate my position. House Tyrell has always been Your Grace's most loyal follower, ever eager to serve the Targaryen dynasty.
I humbly implore Your Grace to grant me the title of Lord of Highgarden, so that I may dedicate myself fully to your service."
Aegon frowned slightly, his gaze scrutinizing as he said with displeasure, "I do not grant titles to those without merit—especially not to one suspected of betrayal.
I have no interest in placing schemers among the kingdom's chief officials.
Becoming a minor noble of no consequence is already a stable arrangement for your house. I'm offering this advice as a gesture of goodwill, in light of your diligent service."
"Your Grace, if you do not grant me the title, then whom do you intend to give Highgarden to? House Hightower is far stronger than House Tyrell. If Highgarden is given to them, they will control the Riverlands, Oldtown, the Citadel, and the headquarters of the Faith of the Seven.
Such a concentration of power would do nothing to benefit Your Grace's reign," Harlan said urgently, trying to persuade Aegon.
Aegon shook his head lightly, his tone firm and final. "I won't repeat myself. I do not reward those without merit—and House Hightower is no exception. I haven't troubled them, and they should count it a blessing from the Seven."
Harlan's thoughts raced as he mulled over Aegon's words. After a moment's pause, he asked, testing the waters, "Is it possible that Your Grace intends to place Highgarden directly under the Crownlands?"
"Your house is indeed quite suited to the role of steward—you're remarkably good at reading your master's mind," Aegon said, reclining lazily in his chair, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint, unreadable smile.
"Your Grace hasn't appointed any lords in the Riverlands either, so it wasn't hard to guess," Harlan said with a careful smile.
Aegon said nothing, merely half-closing his eyes as he leaned back, lost in thought over the Targaryen dynasty's next moves.
"But such an approach might stir dissatisfaction among the great lords. With too much power concentrated in the royal family, it's only natural for many lords to harbor doubts. That could threaten the kingdom's stability," Harlan said cautiously, then quickly added, "Your Grace, I do not question your decision—I only hope to highlight possible concerns."
Aegon slowly crossed his arms, his tone turning sharp. "Do I need your reminders? Are these issues so profound that no ordinary man could think of them?"
Startled by the sudden rebuke, Harlan's legs gave way, and he dropped to the ground in panic. "Your Grace, forgive me. I overstepped. Please forgive me."
Aegon did not immediately bid him rise. Instead, he fell silent, deep in thought.
As the founding monarch, it was easy enough for him to suppress the great lords with his personal authority. Their current dissatisfaction posed no real threat.
But would his descendants possess that same strength of will?
If the balance between the Crown and the great houses ever faltered, conflict—whether by choice or necessity—would be hard to avoid.
His ultimate task was to preserve his bloodline. But if civil war broke out, would his house face the risk of destruction?
Aegon's fingers unconsciously tapped the tabletop as he weighed every angle in his mind.
Harlan remained kneeling, not daring to lift his head or make a sound, quietly awaiting Aegon's forgiveness.
After a long silence, Aegon chose to let the matter rest—for now.
He was no saint. He couldn't erase every hidden threat. If House Targaryen ever did clash with the great lords, then they would have to rely on their own strength to face it. And besides, he was still young. Perhaps, in time, he would find a solution.
"Get up. In light of your earlier decision not to send troops, House Tyrell may continue to serve as stewards of Highgarden," Aegon said with a wave of his hand, his tone calm.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Harlan said gratefully.
He showed no hint of the disappointment he felt inside. After serving King Mern for so many years, he had long since learned how to conceal his true emotions.
Aegon said nothing further. In truth, he was still weighing the matter of rewards in the Reach—no decision had yet been made.
House Hightower wielded considerable influence and would need a loyal force to counterbalance it. Harlan had only just surrendered; his loyalty was still uncertain, and not yet enough to earn Aegon's full trust.
House Baratheon, on the other hand, seemed a more suitable choice.
Aegon had originally planned to grant Orys lands in Dorne. Given Orys's forceful nature, sending him to subdue the unruly Dornish would be a fitting assignment.
Just then, the sudden beat of dragon wings tore through the quiet sky above.
Aegon looked up. Two dragons were descending—Vhagar and Meraxes. As they landed in the botanical gardens, they stirred up a fierce gust of wind that sent flowers and trees swaying wildly.
With the dragons came Queens Visenya and Rhaenys. Visenya stood tall and imposing, while Rhaenys moved with light, graceful steps, a gentle smile on her beautiful face.
Aegon rose to greet the two sisters, opening his arms to embrace them.
Perhaps they would have useful advice to offer.
...
Inside the white wooden pavilion, Aegon shared his concern with them.
"Highgarden is not like Harrenhal. It has served as the capital of the Reach since the Age of Heroes. If it remains without a lord for too long, the other Reach lords will grow covetous—it could lead to unrest."
Visenya responded in a steady voice, "The lord of the Reach cannot be a noble from outside the region.
Back in the Age of Heroes, the demigod Garth Greenhand was known for his romantic nature and many children. His bloodline has become the foundation of the Reach's nobility. If Highgarden's lord lacks Greenhand blood, conflict within the Reach will persist."
Aegon nodded thoughtfully. "I hadn't considered that."
Rhaenys, smiling sweetly, peeled a crystal-clear grape with her slender fingers and gently placed it in Aegon's mouth. Though she lacked political acumen, her tender care for Aegon was meticulous and constant.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Visenya offered her suggestion.
"In my view, the title of Lord of the Reach should be granted to another of Greenhand descent, while Highgarden itself is placed directly under royal control. That way, we reduce the Reach's excessive strength and quickly stabilize its political climate."
"That's a sound plan," Aegon said, his eyes lighting up with approval. He leaned forward and kissed Visenya with delight. "You truly are my most trusted advisor—brilliant as ever."
Visenya shrank her shoulders slightly but didn't manage to avoid the kiss. She had never liked displaying too much affection in front of others—not even in front of her sister, Rhaenys.
...
Aegon and the two queens took residence in the The Rose Garden of the royal palace at Highgarden.
With Balerion and the other two dragons by their side, there was no need to worry about security. All food was first tested for poison, and so they waited patiently for two days.
The Targaryen vanguard, led by Orys, arrived at Highgarden at full speed without pause.
Orys immediately began his work, systematically taking over the castle's defenses with soldiers loyal to the Crown. The troops of House Tyrell were swiftly expelled from the stronghold.
Once Highgarden was firmly under control, Aegon sent a letter to Maester Gawen, instructing him to summon the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven to Highgarden. He had not forgotten the task of dismantling the Faith's military power.
Fortunately, Aegon now held overwhelming strength. Otherwise, he might have been forced to travel to the Starry Sept in Oldtown to accept coronation from the High Septon.
Only a rightful ruler should wear the crown—never a puppet of the clergy.
If Aegon's sovereignty were truly granted by the church, future kings of House Targaryen would inevitably see their authority undermined by the Faith.
...
While waiting for the main Targaryen host to arrive, Harlan took on the role of guide for Aegon and the two Queens, leading them through a tour of Highgarden Castle.
For security, Orys had arranged multiple layers of guards throughout the area.
The Reach had only recently submitted, and its people were not yet fully at ease. Some still clung to memories of their former kingdom and might even entertain thoughts of assassinating Aegon.
He had already survived several assassination attempts in newly subdued Storm's End.
After all, he had destroyed their homeland. Many in the Seven Kingdoms, particularly the elderly who had made peace with death, couldn't accept that loss. Some were even willing to die with their kingdom, taking the path of vengeance.
"My lord, this way please," Harlan said respectfully, offering a graceful gesture to lead them on.
"Let's go," Aegon nodded slightly and moved forward, an arm around each of the Queens.
Along the way, they passed several maids.
They wore Highgarden's signature long green dresses. Though their chests and backs remained covered, the slits in their skirts reached nearly to the tops of their thighs.
From the side, Aegon caught glimpses of their long, slender legs flashing between the fabric—unmistakably seductive in their simplicity.
So the rumors were true—Highgarden is indeed known for its openness, Aegon mused silently.
The two Queens noticed his sidelong glances but paid them little mind. They were long accustomed to his roving eye. After all, the Valyrian Dragonlord was in his prime—bold and unrestrained by nature.
"Highgarden is protected by three white walls. Your Grace and the Queens are currently staying in the innermost part, the Hundred Flower Courtyard," Harlan explained as they walked. "Just beyond it lies the Plant Maze, enclosed by the second white wall.
The maze is used for entertaining guests and leisurely strolls, but it also serves a defensive function.
Intruders unfamiliar with it will quickly lose their way—either running into dead ends or falling victim to the traps within."
After a short walk, the group left the courtyard-style buildings and entered a lush garden.
The surroundings were a tapestry of blooming flowers and dense trees. Winding paths and gravel walkways meandered through the space, alongside elegant fountains and detailed sculptures.
Rhaenys was thoroughly enchanted by Highgarden. With her deep love for the arts—especially poetry and music—the castle's architecture and cultural elegance suited her perfectly.
Visenya, by contrast, found little interest in the setting. Her mind remained fixed on matters of war and statecraft.