"Here he cos. Look, there," Lia whispered, nudging Margaery and pointing with her handkerchief at the young man sauntering toward them. Her voice was thick with excitent.
The man looked to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. He wore a fitted green doublet over loose white trousers. His brown hair was slicked back ticulously, save for a single, calculated lock dangling over his brow—a carefully curated look of roguish charm.
Stubble covered his jawline, manicured to perfection to give him a rugged, worldly air. He cradled a lute in his arms, while a servant trailed behind him, lugging an instrunt case twice the size of a standard harp. He looked every inch the professional.
As he approached the circle of noble ladies, their faces lit up with appreciation.
"His na is Jay. He's the fourth son of Lord Morris," Lia introduced him to Margaery with great enthusiasm. "House Morris is a bannerman to the Gardeners—ancient blood. Jay himself is a master of music. He's leagues above those baseborn bastards you hear about."
Lia didn't notice the way Margaery's expression stiffened for a split second.
The musician, or bard—Jay—recognized Margaery sitting in the center imdiately. A glint of greed flashed in the corner of his eyes, though he masked it quickly.
To think such a beauty is betrothed to a bastard, he thought. What a waste.
A wicked idea sprouted in Jay's mind. If I could bed Margaery Tyrell... it would be worth it, even if they shipped off to the Wall afterward.
Despite the frantic, dangerous thoughts racing through his head, his face maintained a polite, reserved smile. Playing the ga, he didn't bow to Margaery first. Instead, he turned his charm on Lia.
"Lady Lia. I knew I'd find my way to you. Even if we were separated by the ends of the earth, your beauty would guide like a beacon."
Lia's vanity was thoroughly stroked, and she giggled delightedly.
"Oh, stop it, you poet. Today, I want to introduce you to my cousin, Lady Margaery."
"Lady Margaery," Jay said, his smile widening. "Every bard dreams of composing a song worthy of your beauty."
The words were polished, but they lacked genuine warmth. Margaery, who had seen every courtly trick in the book, simply extended her left hand for him to kiss.
The bard decided to press his luck. When he kissed Margaery's hand, it was a brief, barely-there touch. But when he turned back to Lia, his lips lingered on her hand far longer than propriety dictated.
His goal was simple: make Margaery jealous of her cousin. It was a classic manipulation tactic to create an opening.
In his experience, these highborn ladies were naive. He had used the exact sa trick in the Riverlands to sleep with a noble girl—rumored to be the crush of the heir to Riverrun.
Sure, he had been kicked out of the Riverlands for it, but the sense of accomplishnt was sothing he'd cherish forever. And now that Tully boy is the Lord of Riverrun, which makes the victory even sweeter.
Soon, as the star of this "music salon," Jay began his performance.
He did have talent; there was no denying that. His voice managed to sound both boyish and weather-beaten at the sa ti, and his lute skills were complex and refined.
After one song, he was the center of attention. Maids were stealing glances, and even the guards were straining their ears to listen.
Lia smirked triumphantly and turned to look at Margaery. Margaery was smiling, yes, but her eyes were glazed over, clearly lost in her own thoughts.
Jay was watching her, too. Seeing her distracted look, he thought, I've got a chance.
He signaled his servant to open the massive case, revealing a larger instrunt. He invited Lia to join him for a duet.
Naturally, this involved so light physical contact. In Jay's playbook, this was the key step to heating things up.
When Lia was first invited, she feigned modesty, suggesting Margaery should go. But Margaery didn't move a muscle, so Lia happily took the seat next to the bard.
During the song, arms brushed against arms, and fingers "accidentally" touched. Lia was clearly having the ti of her life.
When the song ended, Lia strongly insisted that Margaery try this "novel style." Margaery declined again.
"Co now, Lady Margaery. I'm certain there is a lody that suits you perfectly," Jay urged.
"Just try it, Margaery. It's fun," Lia added.
The surrounding handmaidens chid in, egging her on—mostly because they wanted a turn after her.
Just then, a maidservant rushed to Margaery's side, her voice trembling with barely suppressed excitent.
"Lady Margaery! Lord Jon has taken Casterly Rock! Lord Mace requests your presence imdiately."
Margaery's doe-brown eyes instantly widened, filling with shock and pure joy.
Next to her, Lia's body jerked as if she'd been struck by lightning.
"Jon... Lord Jon actually took Casterly Rock?"
"Yes, my Lady. The letter ca from Ser Garlan himself."
Margaery stood up abruptly. She felt a montary wave of dizziness, a lightheaded rush of sheer happiness.
My choice was right. Jon did it!
She gathered her skirts and turned to leave, her dress swirling around her as she moved with a sudden, energetic urgency.
Halfway to the door, she stopped, as if rembering sothing, and turned back to Lia.
"Jon is my betrothed. He earned the Stark na through his own blood and sweat on the battlefield. Yes, he was born a bastard, that is a fact. But I will not have him referred to as one."
"Margaery, I... I didn't an..."
Lia tried to stamr an excuse, but Margaery had already breezed out of the room like a joyous gust of wind.
The other ladies and handmaidens quickly scrambled to follow her, leaving Lia standing alone in the center of the room.
"Casterly Rock... he... he really took Casterly Rock? How... how is that possible?"
Lia stood there, soul-crushed. Her face darkened, as if all the storm clouds in the world had gathered over her head.
The man she had rejected—the Duke with no land—had conquered the impregnable Casterly Rock.
That ans Margaery... she's going to be the Lady of Casterly Rock.
At that mont, a soft voice broke her trance. "Lady Lia, is there another song you'd like to hear?"
"Get away from !" Lia scread, losing her composure entirely.
She turned and followed the others, though her feet dragged with reluctance.
As she walked, her mind raced with regret. I missed the only chance I ever had to surpass Margaery.
If I had been warr to Jon back then... if I had been gentler... maybe he would have chosen . I would be the Lady of Casterly Rock. My children would be the Lords of the West. Margaery would only marry so bannerman of House Tyrell. At best, her husband would be a Count. In the future, her children would have to bow to mine. Her daughter would be my daughter's handmaiden.
The thought that she had pushed all of this away with her own hands made her heart feel like it was being carved out with a dull knife. Tears of grievance, regret, and loss welled up in her eyes, blurring the corridor before her.
---
Margaery rushed into the solar, slightly out of breath, her cheeks flushed a healthy red. Her family was waiting: her father Mace, her mother Alerie, her grandmother Olenna, and her brother Willas.
Seeing her state, they all wore knowing, aningful smiles.
"Well, look at the blushing bride. So happy you ran all the way here?" Willas teased.
"It's a pity he isn't the King, or I would have flown," Margaery shot back. Since there were no outsiders present, she spoke her mind freely.
Willas held Garlan's letter in the air. Margaery practically snatched it from him.
As she devoured the words, Willas spoke to the room. "This Jon is a tactical genius. Using fire to stop the rain... it sounds like magic."
Willas looked at Mace. Originally, Mace had been grinning ear-to-ear about the victory, but seeing Margaery so ecstatic wiped the smile off his face. He suddenly looked like a man who'd lost his favorite horse.
"It seems we should acquire so of this Wildfire. It might prove useful," Garth the Gross, the High Steward, suggested.
Olenna reached out a hand, and Margaery quickly went to hold it. Alerie watched her daughter with a warm smile.
Olenna took charge. "I want the news of Margaery's impending marriage spread to all seven kingdoms. Furthermore, inform the Citadel that Casterly Rock has a new master. Have the Maesters send ravens to every corner of Westeros imdiately."
Willas, however, raised a concern. "Grandmother, Stannis's original plan was likely for us to help Jon grind down the Westerlands slowly, weakening Highgarden in the process. He probably expected this war to last two or three years. But Jon took the Rock in less than three months. Won't this alarm King's Landing? They might turn against him."
"Let them be alard!" Olenna said with a domineering air. "We are announcing it to the realm precisely to stop Stannis from having second thoughts. We must ensure that the future Lady of Casterly Rock is a Tyrell." She exchanged a conspiratorial smile with Margaery.
"Besides, the West is in ruins. They will need Highgarden's support to rebuild. A strong Jon ans a strong ally for us. Stannis isn't a fool; he'll understand the math," Olenna reasoned to settle the family's nerves.
She added, "And the gold mines of the West are a very worthwhile... investnt."
By providing aid to the West, Jon would have to open the mines to Highgarden. It was a win-win for House Tyrell.
They would sacrifice so wealth now for a massive return later.
Gold mines? Margaery thought. She knew Jon needed those resources. But then she realized this was the price Jon had to pay for the alliance.
I am still a Tyrell. I have to think of my family, too.
Highgarden was the only power capable of supporting Jon right now. She knew her family intended to make a fortune from the reconstruction.
Well, Margaery thought, her mind drifting into dangerous territory, I suppose I'll just have to give him plenty of heirs to make up for it.
"Margaery? Margaery! Little sister!" Willas noticed she had zoned out.
"Oh! I was just... I noticed the letter didn't ntion Garlan or Loras. They are safe, I hope?" Margaery covered her embarrassnt with a shy excuse.
Mace stood up and walked over to his daughter. "My child. The day has finally co. You are leaving . But I promise you, I will send you to Casterly Rock in the grandest carriage, with the most magnificent dowry the realm has ever seen."
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