Lynn looked at the Rose of Highgarden standing before him.
Wisdom shone in her beautiful brown eyes, as if she could see through a man's heart.
Margaery walked to Lynn's side and refilled his water cup herself. Her movements were elegant and natural, carrying a perfectly measured intimacy.
"Your sincerity—enough to drive all of Westeros mad—is sufficient for any House to bet its future on."
Her voice was soft, carrying an undisguised probe.
"But I am curious, my Lord... what is it that you truly want?"
"A prosperous North. A home where my people can survive the Long Night."
Lynn's answer was watertight.
"Is that all?"
A smile played on Margaery's lips.
Her beautiful eyes stared closely at Lynn, as if trying to find even the slightest crack in his facade.
"What else?" Lynn asked back.
"Does Lady Tyrell think I should be interested in that iron chair forged from a thousand swords?"
Margaery's smile deepened.
Of course she believed it.
A man who could hatch a dragon with his own hands, command eight thousand Unsullied, manipulate hundreds of thousands of wildlings, and even produce world-altering goods like white sugar and canned food—would such a man be satisfied with just a corner of the world?
His ambition was likely deeper than the gold mines of Casterly Rock and higher than the Wall itself.
But she didn't say it aloud.
Some things lost their flavor when spoken too plainly.
"The Iron Throne is cold and hard, and sitting on it too long makes everyone else plot against you. Who would like it?"
Margaery followed Lynn's lead, teasing in a relaxed tone.
Then, she changed the subject. Her gaze inadvertently swept toward the Red Keep outside the window, and she lowered her voice.
"However, the current occupant of that chair likely won't be sitting there for much longer."
Lynn raised an eyebrow slightly, looking at her.
"Why does Lady Tyrell say that?"
"If a King loses his health, his reason, and even the awe of his subjects, he is not far from falling off his throne."
Margaery's voice was calm.
Lynn raised his brow.
She saw it too.
This Rose of Highgarden was far sharper than she appeared.
"His Grace is merely... a bit temperamental."
Lynn feigned ignorance.
"Temperamental?"
Margaery let out a soft laugh, laced with pity.
"Lord Lynn, you are a warrior; you should know better than I."
"A true warrior's eyes should be sharp, not cloudy and muddled like his are now."
"His body has been hollowed out by wine and lust, his will corroded by endless suspicion and rage."
"He is no longer the Storm King who could hammer a Dragon Prince to death on the Trident."
"He is now just a fat pig trapped in a cage, waiting to be slaughtered."
Margaery's words were bold and vicious.
Right in front of Lynn, she devalued the King of the Seven Kingdoms to nothing.
Lynn looked at her without speaking.
"So, do you understand my meaning, my Lord?"
Margaery took a step forward. The fire of ambition burned in her beautiful brown eyes.
"King Robert is not fit to continue sitting on the throne."
"House Baratheon needs a new King."
"A young, handsome, wise King who is loved by the nobles."
She almost said the name aloud.
But the implication was too obvious.
Renly Baratheon.
Robert's youngest brother, Lord of Storm's End.
Generous, fond of making friends.
It could be said that in King's Landing, Renly was the most popular man.
"Lord Renly is indeed a perfect heir."
Lynn followed her words, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.
"But Lady Tyrell seems to have forgotten one thing."
"What?"
"Lord Renly doesn't like women."
Lynn's words fell, and the air in the room instantly solidified.
The smile on Margaery's face froze.
Shock surfaced in her always-smiling brown eyes.
She hadn't expected Lynn to so bluntly pierce the secret that everyone in the King's Landing nobility knew but dared not speak of.
Lynn looked at her shocked face, his smile deepening.
"How is a King who dislikes women supposed to produce an heir for the realm?"
"Is the Rose of House Tyrell to wither alone in a garden without a master?"
Margaery had already convinced her grandmother that once Robert died, House Tyrell would fully support Renly's claim to the throne.
And she, Margaery Tyrell, would become the new Queen.
As for Renly's peculiar preferences...
So what?
In the game of power, marriage was always just a transaction.
As long as she became Queen, as long as House Tyrell stood at the pinnacle of power, she didn't care whose bed her husband slept in.
But now, this plan she considered most secret and perfect was broken by Lynn so casually.
She felt like a clown stripped naked, performing self-righteously.
In the eyes of others, she was just a joke.
"You... how do you know?"
Margaery's voice carried a panic she couldn't hide.
"I know far more than you imagine."
Lynn stood up, looking down at her.
"I know Renly spends every night with your dear brother Loras."
"I also know that House Tyrell has long prepared two plans."
"Once Robert dies, you will immediately support Renly as King, using Highgarden's grain and army to pave his way to the Iron Throne."
"And you, Lady Margaery, will be the most dazzling chip in this gamble."
Margaery's face turned pale.
Lynn was right about everything.
She felt all her disguises were stripped clean before Lynn's all-seeing eyes.
"So, you didn't come to me tonight to discuss business."
"You came to win me over, to test me."
"You want me, my wildling army, and my dragon to become the sword for House Tyrell to seize power and status."
"Correct?"
Margaery bit her lip, unable to say a word.
She had never felt so defeated and powerless.
"Lady Tyrell, you are a smart woman."
"But sometimes, cleverness can be a trap."
Lynn sat down again, picked up his water cup, and took a sip.
"Betting on Renly is like building a castle on the sand."
"It looks beautiful, but when the tide comes, it will collapse instantly."
"Because you all forgot one person."
"Stannis Baratheon."
Lynn spat out the name everyone deliberately ignored.
"He is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."
"He is rigid, harsh, inflexible, but he commands the fleet of Dragonstone and possesses the most legitimate claim of House Baratheon."
"Do you think he will just watch his younger brother sit on the throne that belongs to him?"
Margaery swayed slightly.
Of course she knew Stannis.
But both she and her grandmother subconsciously ignored this gloomy man.
Because he was too unlikable and too hard to control.
"War... is inevitable," Margaery murmured.
"Exactly." Lynn nodded.
"A war that will sweep across the Seven Kingdoms."
"At that time, the Renly you support will face the Lannisters from King's Landing and Stannis from Dragonstone simultaneously."
"What do you think his chances of winning are?"
Margaery fell silent.
Her pride in her wisdom seemed so fragile before Lynn's realistic analysis.
"So, what is your choice?"
Margaery looked up, confusion in her beautiful eyes.
"My choice?"
Lynn laughed.
"I never choose."
"So, House Tyrell wants to invite me to join this game of crowning a new King?"
Lynn brought the topic back.
"Not an invitation."
Margaery shook her head, looking at Lynn seriously.
"It is a partnership."
"Lord Renly needs a strong ally, one who holds absolute sway in the North."
"And you, Lord Lynn, are the only candidate."
"Ned Stark is honorable, but his honor binds him forever to Robert, no matter how incompetent Robert becomes."
"But you are different." Margaery's gaze burned.
"You are more like us. You believe only in profit and strength."
"As long as you are willing to support Lord Renly."
"Then, on the day he ascends the Iron Throne, anything you want, House Tyrell and House Baratheon will grant you."
"Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, or even an independent Northern Kingdom."
The price she offered was much higher than Cersei's, and far more tempting.
An independent kingdom.
This was the ultimate temptation no vassal could refuse.
Lynn looked at her and suddenly smiled.
"Lady Margaery, you seem to have forgotten one thing."
"What?"
"I, Lynn, am the King Beyond the Wall."
Lynn stood up and walked to the window, looking at the cold moon outside.
"My crown was not bestowed by anyone."
"I carved it out, slice by slice, from the hands of wights and wildlings with my sword."
"My people believe only in me, not some King on the Iron Throne."
Margaery's breath hitched slightly.
She suddenly realized that she and her grandmother seemed to have made a mistake from the very beginning.
They were used to measuring and judging everyone by the rules of the southern game of thrones.
They thought Lynn, like other lords, craved the King's enfeoffment, craved higher titles and more land.
But they forgot that Lynn's foundation was not within the Seven Kingdoms at all.
He was an intruder from outside the system.
Whether in the distant North or Slaver's Bay across the Narrow Sea, he was outside of it.
And the power he possessed was far beyond what an ordinary vassal could compare to.
A hundred thousand wildlings, ten thousand Unsullied, and even a dragon.
Even the Lannisters couldn't produce so many troops at once!
"So, your choice is..."
Margaery's voice carried a hint of nervousness.
"My choice?"
Lynn turned around, looking at her face, which appeared even more lovely in her nervousness, a playful smile curling his lips.
"Why should I choose?"
"Renly is fine, Joffrey is decent, and of course, Stannis works too."
"Let them fight, snatch, beat each other until their heads bleed."
"And I just need to sit in the North drinking mead, watching you bite each other in the southern mud."
"When you are all exhausted..."
Lynn didn't finish the sentence, but the pressure brought by the unspoken words made Margaery feel suffocated.
She understood.
Lynn never intended to take a side.
What he wanted to do was wait until everyone was mutually wounded, then march south with his rested Northern army to pick up the pieces.
This man's ambition was bigger than she imagined, bigger than anyone imagined!
"You..."
Margaery opened her mouth.
Her pride in her wisdom and eloquence seemed so pale and weak before this man's absolute strength and grander ambition.
"However..."
Lynn changed the subject, walking back to Margaery.
"Although I am not interested in the change of your southern throne, I am very sincere about our cooperation."
Lynn reached out, gently lifting Margaery's chin, which was stiff from shock.
Margaery was slightly stunned, but she didn't stop Lynn's bold move.
Clever as she was, she had already guessed what Lynn was going to say.
"I will fully support House Tyrell in the canning business."
"In return, I need Highgarden's grain and craftsmen, the more the better."
"As for the rest..."
Lynn lowered his head, almost touching Margaery's ear, whispering in a voice only the two of them could hear.
"Perhaps we can change to a deeper way of cooperation."
The warm breath on her ear made Margaery's body tremble uncontrollably.
A flustered flush appeared on her face, which always wore a perfect smile.
"For example, let the Rose of Highgarden bloom not only in King's Landing but also blossom even more beautifully in the North."