Lynn looked at the rose of Highgarden before him.
Wisdom gleamed in her beautiful brown eyes, as though she could see into people's hearts.
Margaery stepped up beside Lynn and refilled his water herself, her movements graceful and natural, conveying just the right degree of intimacy.
"That gesture of goodwill of yours, enough to drive all of Westeros wild, would make any house gamble its future."
Her voice was soft, carrying a hint of undisguised probing.
"But I am curious, my lord... what exactly do you want?"
"A prosperous North, a home where my people can weather the Long Night in safety."
Lynn's answer left no openings.
"Is that all?"
A smile played on Margaery's lips.
Yet her lovely eyes remained fixed on Lynn, as though searching his face for even the slightest flaw.
"What else?" Lynn countered.
"Does Miss Tyrell think I ought to take an interest in that iron chair forged from a thousand swords?"
Margaery's smile deepened.
Of course she believed him.
Would a man who could hatch a dragon himself, bring eight thousand Unsullied under his command, toy with hundreds of thousands of Wildlings, and even produce things like white sugar and canned food that could overturn the world order really settle for ruling a remote corner?
His ambition was probably deeper than the gold mines of Casterly Rock and higher than the Wall.
But she did not call him out.
Some things lost their charm once spoken aloud.
"The Iron Throne is cold and hard, and sit on it too long and others start eyeing you. Who would like that?"
Margaery followed his lead, teasing him in a light tone.
Then she changed tack, her gaze drifting casually toward the Red Keep outside the window as her voice lowered.
"But I fear its current occupant