A/N: The quoted first part is from GRRM's "A World of Ice and Fire." It got me thinking... Tyrell siblings? With magic? Say it's so! I might add more chapters later but for now, this stands alone.


"There is disagreement even on his name. Garth Greenhand, we call him, but in the oldest tales he is named Garth Greenhair, or simply Garth the Green. Some stories say he had green hands, green hair, or green skin overall. (A few even give him antlers, like a stag.) Others tell us that he dressed in green from head to foot, and certainly this is how he is most commonly depicted in paintings, tapestries, and sculptures. More likely, his sobriquet derived from his gifts as a gardener and a tiller of the soil– the one trait on which all the tales agree. "Garth made the corn ripen, the trees fruit, and the flowers bloom," the singers tell us.

"A few of the oldest tales of Garth Greenhand present us with a considerably darker deity, one who demanded blood sacrifice from his worshippers to ensure a bountiful harvest. In some stories the green god dies every autumn when the trees lose their leaves, only to be reborn with the coming of spring. This version of Garth is largely forgotten."

-Maester Yandel, "A World of Ice and Fire"


The Gardeners held power over the Reach for longer than living memory. As long as there had been men in Westeros, there had been Garth Greenhand. As long as there had been stories of Garth Greenhand, there had been the tribe and later House of Gardener, borne of those who claimed to be his most direct descendants.

The ancient house waned and waxed through the generations, as did the stories of their primogenitor. The final blow came on the Field of Fire, when the folly of Mern IX led to his entire house and many vassals burned alive under the might of Balerion the Black Dread's fire.

When Aegon I arrived at the gate of Highgarden, it was the stewards of House Gardener, the Tyrells, who opened the gates and bent the knee to spare the castle, lands, and her people from the dragon's ire. Tyrell bent the knee, and Targaryen made them Lord Paramounts of the Reach.

There were many things that the foreign dragon did not understand about the lands he was conquering, even if he had visited before in his youth. Just so, there were consequences that House Tyrell did not anticipate to come alongside its ascension.


Willas Tyrell is born with green tufts of hair sprouting from his head.

His mother faints at the sight and does not even hold her firstborne until days afterwards, when her goodmother forces the boy into her arms. Olenna Redwyne is not about to let her son's wife lose status by rejecting her healthy heir.

"Hair can be dyed, you foolish child!" She snaps.

Alerie Hightower looks between her husband and the fierce Redwyne and does as she is bade.

"The roots that Garth Greenhand planted grow deep within the walls of Highgarden," Mace murmurs, doing his best to be reassuring. "Not just in the gardens outside, but the oldest foundations of the castle are… of root and mud and clay. Some magic from the Age of Heroes, likely." His voice grows hesitant the moment he speaks of magic, but its existence in the past cannot be denied. Dragons themselves have only vanished less than two hundred years before. Only a fool would say it had never existed at all.

It is when Olenna's words turn to the present that Alerie blanches.

"Yes, built with magic, retained with magic. It was not just pride and ambition that had the Tyrells claim Highgarden's seat after House Gardener's destruction. The magic that Garth Greenhand imbued would fade and die without those of its blood to rule within its walls, and what Garth planted reaches much farther than just this keep. All of the Reach—and some beyond—was once Garth's." Her piercing blue eyes do not let her gooddaughter turn away from the horrible truth she is speaking.

"But- but magic has gone from this continent. Dragons died, grew smaller, and eventually all—"

Olenna snorts. "My son has married an empty-headed fool if you believe dragons are the only evidences of magic. By all accounts it thrives in Essos."

"And darling," Mace interrupts to redirect his mother's attention. "Forget the dragons, which only came in recent Westerosi history. What of the Wall? 500 feet tall and made of solid ice… Bran the Builder could not have created such a thing with men alone."

Her husband is practically a stranger to her in this moment. "Mace, I have never heard you speak like this."

"I did tell my son to warn you of the possibility before the birth," Olenna grumps, "but what's done is done. Willas is marked with the green hair of Garth himself. This is a good sign."

"Mother?"

"Your closest bannermen must see this—including Old Leyton, I want to see the look on his face—because this once more cements House Tyrell's position as Lord Paramonts of the Reach. Most old families in this kingdom can claim ancestry and thus power through descent from Garth Greenhand. This will cement our status for generations to come.

"But you must be careful. The Reach is also the seat of the Faith of the Seven, those corrupt harpies. If they hear word of magic presenting in your heir, no one will be able to stop the mob of Faith that will come for him and kill him."

Alerie fainted at the first sight of her baby boy, but now she clutches him impossibly close to her chest. "I will not let them hurt my son!"

Olenna Tyrell's eyes sparkle with what might be approval. "There you are, Lady Tyrell."


The Reach's earliest memory of Willas Tyrell is his formal presentation in the forgotten godswood of Highgarden as Tyrell Heir to its loyal vassals. His green hair is on display to all, and when its color does not run when water is poured over his head, the lords fall to their knees and acknowledge his inheritance.

Willas Tyrell's earliest memory within the Reach is being taught how to dye his hair brown.


When Garlan Tyrell begins to grow antlers at age three, his mother screams.

They are unmistakable, especially to the lady of such a fertile land, who has seen many a young fawn in the gardens. The growing antlers had been hidden until then by Garlan's wavy caramel hair, but now the fuzzy protrusions peek out into the open.

Mace cannot hide his shock this time, and Olenna Redwyne sighs. Even she does not deny the truth. "Once, this would have been fortuitous. But now… they would burn this child alive."

The fury within Alerie at the thought of her boys coming to harm because of a cruel curse passed onto their house has only grown over the years. "If they touch my child, I will raze their lands."


Garlan's agonized wails and cries echo through the halls of Highgarden the first time he is restrained to have his antlers clipped and shaven down flush with his skull.

Every time he looks in the mirror afterwards, his hands rise and grip fruitlessly in the air at where the bone rack might have been, had it been allowed to grow.


Loras presents as completely normal when he is born. He has light hair and vibrant green eyes, but no other physical traits that appear emerald or… inhuman. Green eyes are a Tyrell trait, and before that, the mark of a Gardener. Both of her elder boys' eyes are Hightower hazel, but this is something that Loras can wield in public to show his lineage.

Loras becomes the favorite child by no fault of his own.


He runs through the walled grounds, as all the children have done. He trips over unsteady feet, as all toddlers do. He scrapes his knee and cries, as is normal.

What is not normal is the way plants begin to sprout from the ground only moments after Loras' blood waters it.

Loras brings his parents the most fear by no fault of his own.


When Margaery is born, Alerie weeps in relief that this time, magic has only cursed her daughter's fingertips green.

This is something that can be easily hidden with gloves, not a curse that she must painfully remove evidence of every few months. Gloves are accepted in feminine fashions, and none need ever see little Margaery without them. If need be, it can be explained away due to delicate skin.

Margaery's eyes open to reveal a bright spring green, and Alerie's relief only grows. At least her beauty will have her wanted by all in the kingdoms.

The first time Margaery toddles out into the garden by herself, she leaves trails of blooming flowers and ripened fruit along every plant her fingers touch.

She is not allowed alone in the gardens again for years.


Willas' leg is crushed in his first tourney tilt when his horse falls upon his leg tangled within the reins.

Alerie's first thought is to thank the gods that it was not Loras, for they would not be able to explain away the garden that would have grown from his pooled blood.

Her second thought is to wonder if this accident is the price to be paid for hiding Willas' green hair, his mark of Garth, from the rest of the world.

Her third thought is that it will be far safer to blame the Red Viper of Dorne for the incident. It is what will be expected of House Tyrell, and it is what will keep her children safe. They are of the utmost importance, and she can live with making an enemy of Dorne and their prince if that is the new price.


Garlan earns his knighthood in tourney but insists that he will not be a true knight until he rides amongst the Reach and other southern kingdoms, being the shield of the innocent.

It is hardly two moons past before rumors begin amongst the smallfolk of an old god returned to the earth to protect its lands. A man in the barest of armors, but with a face covered by green cloth and antlers sprouting from his head. They say he gains a point on them for each unbeliever that he vanquishes.

Mace is torn between pride for his son, the first to fulfill his dream to raise warriors, and anger that Garlan ignores his commands to return home.

Alerie begins to pray in the ancient godswood for his safety.

Olenna harumphs and comments that while the boy is foolish, at least these stories and love from the smallfolk may come in use later.


Loras brushes off his family's fears and trains harder than any other. If he becomes the best knight, if he becomes untouchable, then none will know of what gifts his lifeblood brings.

If it causes his father to look at him with something other than guarded caution, if he now becomes the perfect knight Mace Tyrell wished for from his heir, that is only an added benefit.


Margaery is taken under Olenna's wing. The garden always blooms grander after their secret walks, where Alerie knows her daughter is being crafted into the perfect political weapon. There is no way to deny Olenna Redwyne what she wants—that she is the functional head of house is evidence enough—and as long as Margaery's talents are kept hidden from all others, Lady Tyrell resigns herself to let them do as they will.

If she comes to this decision after Margaery gifts her an embroidered shawl of peonies and white mums, well, the only ones that will ever know are the three ladies of House Tyrell.


And then Loras falls in love with a stag.

How fitting for one marked by the antlered god, whose spilled blood leads to new life.