Lynn looked at the Rose of Highgarden before him.
The wisdom in her beautiful brown eyes seemed to see through people's hearts.
Margaery walked over to Lynn and personally refilled his water, her movements graceful and natural, with just the right amount of intimacy.
"Your sincerity, which could drive all of Westeros mad, is enough for any family to stake its future."
Her voice was soft, with a hint of undisguised probing.
"I'm just very curious, my Lord... what exactly do you want?"
"A fertile North, a home where my people can safely endure the Long Night."
Lynn's answer was flawless.
"Is that all?"
Margaery's lips curved into a smile.
Her beautiful eyes, however, were fixed on Lynn, as if searching for even the slightest flaw on his face.
"What else?" Lynn retorted.
"Does Miss Tyrell think I should be interested in that iron throne forged from a thousand swords?"
Margaery's smile deepened.
She certainly believed him.
A man who could personally hatch dragons, subdue eight thousand Unsullied, manipulate hundreds of thousands of wildlings with ease, and even produce things like white sugar and canned goods that could overturn the world order—would he be content with merely staying in one corner?
His ambition was probably deeper than the gold mines of Casterly Rock and higher than The Wall.
But she didn't expose it.
Some things lose their meaning when spoken aloud.
"The iron throne is cold and hard, and if you sit on it too long, others will covet it. Who would like that?"
Margaery followed Lynn's words, teasing him in a relaxed tone.
Her tone shifted, and her gaze inadvertently swept towards the The Red Keep outside the window, her voice dropping a few octaves.
"It's just that the current owner of that chair probably won't be sitting on it for much longer."
Lynn's eyebrow twitched slightly as he looked at her.
"What makes Miss Tyrell say that?"
"If a king loses his health, loses his sanity, and even loses the reverence of his subjects, then he is not far from falling from the throne."
Margaery's voice was calm.
Lynn raised an eyebrow.
She had seen it too.
This Rose of Highgarden was far more astute than she appeared.
"His Majesty the King is just... a bit short-tempered."
Lynn feigned ignorance.
"Short-tempered?"
Margaery chuckled, a hint of pity in her laugh.
"Lord Lynn, you are a warrior; you should know better than I."
"A true warrior's eyes should be sharp, not murky as they are now."
"His body has been hollowed out by wine and desire, his will corroded by endless suspicion and anger."
"He is no longer the Storm King who hammered the Dragon Prince at the Trident."
"Now, he is merely a fat pig trapped in a cage, waiting to be slaughtered."
Margaery's words were bold and vicious.
She openly belittled the King of the Seven Kingdoms to Lynn's face, making him seem utterly worthless.
Lynn looked at her without speaking.
"So, do you understand what I mean, my Lord?"
Margaery stepped forward, the flames of ambition burning in her beautiful brown eyes.
"King Robert does not deserve to remain on the throne."
"House Baratheon needs a new king."
"A young, handsome, wise, and deeply beloved king by the nobles."
She almost spoke the name aloud.
But the implication was far too obvious.
Renly Baratheon.
Robert's youngest brother, Lord of Storm's End.
He was generous and enjoyed making friends.
It could be said that in King's Landing, Renly was the most popular person.
"Lord Renly is indeed a perfect heir."
Lynn said, following her words, but with a hint of playfulness in his tone.
"It's just that Miss Tyrell seems to have forgotten something."
"What?"
"Lord Renly, he doesn't like women."
As Lynn's words fell, the air in the room instantly solidified.
Margaery's smile froze.
Her brown eyes, always filled with a smile, now showed shock.
She hadn't expected Lynn to so bluntly expose this secret, which everyone in King's Landing's noble circles knew but never dared to speak aloud.
Lynn looked at her face, filled with astonishment, and his smile deepened.
"How can a king who doesn't like women produce an heir for the kingdom?"
"Will the Rose of the House Tyrell wither alone in a garden without a master?"
Margaery had already convinced her grandmother that once Robert died, the House Tyrell would fully support Renly's ascension to the throne.
And she, Margaery Tyrell, would become the new queen.
As for Renly's peculiar preferences... what did it matter?
In the realm of power, marriage was always just a transaction.
As long as she could become queen, as long as the House Tyrell could reach the pinnacle of power, she didn't care whose bed her husband slept in at night.
But now, this plan, which she considered her most secret and perfect, was so casually exposed by Lynn.
She felt like a stripped clown, performing self-importantly.
In others' eyes, she was just a joke.
"You... how do you know?"
Margaery's voice held an almost imperceptible tremor of panic.
"I know far more than you imagine."
Lynn stood up, looking down at her.
"I know Renly and your good brother Loras are together every night."
"I also know that your House Tyrell has already made two preparations."
"Once Robert dies, you will immediately enthrone Renly, using Highgarden's grain and army to pave his way to the iron throne."
"And you, Miss Margaery, will be the most dazzling chip in this grand gamble."
Margaery's face turned pale.
What Lynn said was spot on.
She felt all her disguises were stripped clean before Lynn's all-seeing eyes.
"So, you came to me tonight not to discuss business."
"You came to win me over, to test me."
"You want me, my wildling army, my dragons, to be the sword with which your House Tyrell seizes power and position."
"Is that right?"
Margaery bit her lip, unable to utter a single word.
She had never felt so defeated and powerless.
"Miss Tyrell, you are a clever woman."
"But sometimes, cleverness can be self-defeating."
Lynn sat back down, picked up the glass of water, 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 instantly collapse."
"Because you all forgot one person."
"Stannis Baratheon."
Lynn uttered the name everyone deliberately ignored.
"He is the first in line to the iron throne."
"He is rigid, strict, and unyielding, but he holds the fleet of Dragonstone and possesses the most legitimate claim to the Baratheon succession."
"Do you think he would idly watch his brother take the throne that rightfully belongs to him?"
Margaery's body swayed slightly.
Of course, she knew Stannis.
But both she and her grandmother had subconsciously ignored this gloomy man.
Because he was too unlikable and too difficult to control.
"War... is inevitable," Margaery murmured.
"Indeed." Lynn nodded.
"A war that will sweep across the entire Seven Kingdoms."
"At that time, the Renly you champion will simultaneously face the Lannisters from King's Landing and Stannis from Dragonstone."
"How much chance of winning do you think he has?"
Margaery fell silent.
Her boasted wisdom seemed so fragile in the face of Lynn's realistic analysis.
"So, what is your choice?"
Margaery looked up, confusion in her beautiful eyes.
"My choice?"
Lynn smiled.
"I never choose."
"So, is the House Tyrell inviting me to join this game of enthroning a new king?"
Lynn brought the conversation back.
"Not an invitation."
Margaery shook her head, looking at Lynn earnestly.
"It's a collaboration."
"Lord Renly needs a powerful ally, an ally who can have absolute say in the North."
"And you, Lord Lynn, are the only choice."
"While Ned Stark is honorable, his sense of honor will make him forever loyal to Robert, no matter how incompetent Robert becomes."
"But you are different." Margaery's gaze was burning.
"You are more like us; you only believe in interests and strength."
"As long as you are willing to support Lord Renly."
"Then, the day he ascends the iron throne, anything you desire, the House Tyrell and House Baratheon will grant you."
"Warden of the North, Duke of Winterfell, or even an independent Northern Kingdom."
The price she offered was much higher and more tempting than Cersei's.
An independent kingdom.
This was the ultimate temptation that no vassal could refuse.
Lynn looked at her and suddenly smiled.
"Miss Margaery, you seem to have forgotten something."
"What?"
"I, Lynn, am the king-beyond-the-wall."
Lynn stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the cold, clear moon outside.
"My throne was not granted by anyone."
"I carved it out with my sword, slash by slash, from the hands of wights and wildlings."
"My people only believe in me, not in any 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 accustomed to using the rules of the southern game of power to measure and judge everyone.
They thought Lynn, like other lords, longed for royal investiture, for 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.
Neither in the distant North nor across the Narrow Sea in Slavers Bay was he part of it.
Moreover, the power he possessed was far beyond what an ordinary vassal could compare to.
One hundred thousand wildlings, ten thousand Unsullied, and even dragons.
Even the Lannisters couldn't field so many troops at once!
"So, your choice is..."
Margaery's voice held a trace of nervousness.
"My choice?"
Lynn turned around, looking at her face, which appeared even more alluring due to nervousness, a playful smile on his lips.
"Why should I choose?"
"Renly is good, Joffrey is fine, and of course, Stannis is also an option."
"Let them fight, scramble, and bleed each other dry."
"And I, I just need to sit in the North, drinking mead, watching you tear each other apart in the southern mire."
"When you are all exhausted..."
Lynn didn't finish his sentence, but the implied pressure of his unfinished words made Margaery feel a suffocating sensation.
She understood.
Lynn had no intention of taking sides.
What he wanted to do was wait until everyone was mutually wounded, then lead his well-rested Northern army south to pick up the pieces.
This man's ambition was far greater than she imagined, or rather, greater than anyone imagined!
"You..."
Margaery opened her mouth.
Her boasted wisdom and eloquence seemed so pale and powerless in the face of this man's absolute strength and even greater ambition.
"However..."
Lynn changed the subject, walking back to Margaery.
"While I'm not interested in your southern succession, I am very sincere about our cooperation."
Lynn reached out and gently lifted Margaery's chin, which was somewhat stiff from shock.
Margaery paused slightly, but she didn't stop Lynn's presumptuous action.
Being clever, she had already guessed what Lynn was about to say.
"I will fully support the House Tyrell in the canned goods business."
"In return, I need Highgarden's grain and artisans, the more the better."
"As for the rest..."
Lynn leaned down, almost touching Margaery's ear, and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear.
"Perhaps, we can try a more in-depth form of cooperation."
The warm breath on her ear made Margaery's body tremble uncontrollably.
A flush of flustered red appeared on her face, which always held a perfect smile.
"For example, letting the Rose of Highgarden not only bloom in King's Landing but also blossom more beautifully in the North.
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