Bloodline 15

The Sept of the Red Keep remained steeped in grief, along with a rotting stench that made one want to pinch one's nose.

"Lord Hand Mace Tyrell, arriving."

The hushed prayers of the septas and maidservants were interrupted by the herald's chant, but soon resumed.

Lord Hand?

Kneeling beside Tommen, Margaery turned her head and happened to see her father approaching with his head held high and chest puffed out. Seeing the smug delight on his face, she pressed her lips together to suppress a smile.

After rising, she gave Lord Mace a slight curtsy. "Lord Hand."

The setting sun streamed through the crystals in the dome, casting rainbow-colored light. The Hand's chain around Lord Mace's neck gleamed brilliantly.

His daughter's voice was so pleasing that Lord Mace's own voice brimmed with fatherly affection. "My Margaery."

He briefly examined Margaery's wan little face and her exceedingly plain attire. "Oh, my daughter, you must be heartbroken. I should have come sooner."

Margaery smiled softly. "Seeing Father puts my heart at ease."

"Lord Mace." At that moment, Tommen took Margaery's hand. He was in far better condition today than he had been yesterday.

Only then did Lord Mace notice the young king. He hurriedly said respectfully, "Please accept my condolences, Your Grace."

Seeing the young king staring at the Hand's chain around his neck, Lord Mace bowed slightly and added, "There is no greater glory than serving Your Grace. I am willing to fulfill the duties of Hand of the King with this humble body, sparing neither life nor limb."

Tommen looked up, and Margaery answered him with a gentle smile.

After a pause, he looked back at Lord Mace. "Thank you. It is an honor for me and for the realm, my Hand."

After Lord Mace offered a stream of mourning