The echoes of the Great Council still lingered faintly in the Red Keep's Throne Room.
Margaery had returned to the comfortable guest chamber prepared for her on an upper floor of Maegor's Holdfast.
The astonishing rewards bestowed on House Crabb were like a boulder cast into a deep pool, sending ripples through her heart that refused to settle.
Governor, protector, noble title-three powers united, placing them on a par with the great territorial lords of old!
Margaery believed this was more than a reward. It was an unmistakably clear signal.
Highgarden's future and House Tyrell's path forward whirled rapidly through her mind.
Renly was dead, Stannis had fallen, and the Lannisters were fighting like cornered beasts. The fate of the Iron Throne seemed beyond doubt.
Should she continue to maintain the reserved distance of a "special envoy," waiting for an olive branch that might never be offered, or... draw closer of her own accord, demonstrating the loyalty and value that made Highgarden worthy of such "special treatment"?
Margaery scarcely hesitated. She went to the exquisite dressing table and carefully adjusted her hair and clothing in the mirror, ensuring that every detail was flawless-neither so formal as to seem calculated nor so casual as to be discourteous.
The girl in the mirror had delicate features, with determination beneath her gentleness.
She drew a deep breath and turned toward the door. It was time to knock on the door that led to her future.
Aegon returned from the Throne Room to his study. The heavy oak door closed behind him, shutting out the sounds and gazes of the world outside.
He removed the splendid attire that marked his princely rank, leaving only a black outfit that allowed him to move freely.
The study was dim, lit only by the dancing flames