Throughout it all, her eyes never left Viserys.
"I spent a year in Valyria. All that time, I watched you, your Empire, and your dragons," she said, her voice trembling slightly but still steady.
"I wanted to become your queen and put House Tyrell in the safest possible position. But I didn't want to be one of your many women. I didn't want to share you with anyone else. That was my pride-and my foolishness."
She continued, "Later, I came to understand that schemes could never move a man like you. You'll have more women in the future: a princess of Dorne, a priestess of the Red God... A man like you never belongs to any one woman. The 'only one' I wanted to be was impossible from the start."
She paused, her lashes fluttering softly. "But I still had to come."
She reached up, her fingers settling on her underdress.
"I don't want to wait anymore," she said. "If I keep waiting, you'll return to Westeros, and there will be more people around you, more women, more choices. By then, I might not even have a chance to stand before you."
Her underdress slipped off as well, falling onto the heap of dark green skirts. Moonlight streamed through the window, bathing her bare body in a silver glow.
The rose of Highgarden stood fully revealed before Viserys, slender yet distinctly curved, her skin a healthy pale gold. Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders and down her chest, concealing some of the lovely view.
Viserys rose and simply looked at her. Margaery lifted her head, meeting his gaze with her green eyes without flinching. She stood there, allowing him to study her.
"Did you come here just for this?" he asked.
Margaery shook her head. "I came here