Chapter 104

Margaery’s attempt to corner Aegor into her schemes had failed. All her acting and eloquent flattery were for naught. Yet, she maintained her composure, showing not the slightest hint of humiliation or anger. That alone made her far superior to a certain someone like Cersei.

When her probing words bore no fruit, she remained unperturbed. With gentle and pleasant conversation, she tried once more but quickly realized Aegor was impervious to her charms. Pragmatic as ever, she decided to shelve the matter for now—there were more pressing tasks that had brought her northward with the army, after all, far more critical than mere money-making ventures.

“Well, since you’ve said as much, Ser Aegor, then after this battle, I’ll pay a visit to the Night’s Watch office in King’s Landing. I’ll also make a... tour of the industries you’ve mentioned.” She shed her mask of admiration and awe, revealing a faint touch of pride. This glimpse of her true face vanished almost instantly, replaced by another mask: “Ah, the wounded from today’s assault are being carried back now. I know a bit of medicine, so I’ll go tend to them. My lords, you’ll have to excuse me for now.”

...

Oh, here she goes again, performing her little play of “loving soldiers as if they were her own children.” Watching Margaery’s graceful figure retreat, Aegor found it amusing, though he didn’t feel disdain or contempt. To act without faltering is the mark of a true noble. Regardless of someone’s motives or desires, if they could consistently conduct themselves in a virtuous manner, then that was a person worth respecting.

When it came to judging a noblewoman like Margaery, one should focus on her deeds rather than her desires. She excelled at theatrics, but that was merely a basic skill for a capable politician. If she could keep up this act for a lifetime, she might very well make for a decent queen. Unfortunately, she was born too late—about ten years too late. She missed her chance to marry Robert Baratheon.

...

“That little vixen is as dangerous as they come, a true man-eater. I was worried she’d manage to seduce you, Ser Aegor, and nearly spoke up to warn you several times. But clearly, I underestimated you,” said the Earl of Buckwell with a chuckle. “No wonder Tyrion Lannister chose you as his partner. You wouldn’t fall for such a low-level honey trap.”

The Tyrells were powerful and wealthy, but as the Earl was under no obligation to serve them, he spared no courtesy in his appraisal. “There aren’t many in this camp who can make that little flower stumble—Robert’s one, and you’re another.”

“You flatter me, my lord. Honestly, rejecting a beauty like her is no easy task.” Aegor smiled faintly. It wasn’t so much that he’d made her stumble as that he’d held his ground. If he hadn’t known her true nature, with his life experience and shrewdness, he might have... no, he definitely would have been thoroughly duped.

“Have you heard the rumors circulating in the camp these past few days?” The Earl’s eyes gleamed with interest. He had initially approached Aegor for his role as a Night’s Watch officer, but the more they talked, the more intrigued he became by the young man. “They say Margaery Tyrell bears a striking resemblance to the late Lyanna Stark.”

“Oh?” Aegor raised an eyebrow. “Truly similar, or...?”

“What do you think?”

“I see.” A glint of insight flickered in Aegor’s eyes. By now, he could discern the hidden meanings behind such words. Who among these soldiers had ever seen Lyanna Stark? It was evident this rumor had been deliberately spread by the Tyrells themselves. With Margaery’s path to becoming queen blocked, they were even angling for her to become Robert’s mistress. For the sake of their family, that girl would give anything. Truly, her loyalty to House Tyrell deserved House Tully’s words: Family, Duty, Honor.

“And has His Grace the King seen Lady Margaery?”

“He has,” the Earl replied with a grin. “He made a few casual remarks about her beauty, but that was it. All her scheming and dressing up amounted to nothing. She’s a beauty, no doubt about it, but what woman hasn’t Robert seen? And the king isn’t a fool—Tyrell women aren’t the kind to ‘forget’ who they’ve slept with after putting on their trousers.”

The Earl chuckled, stroking his beard. “Besides, I suspect even Robert himself has long forgotten what Lyanna Stark actually looked like. All this ‘resemblance’ talk wouldn’t move him—not even if they were identical twins.”

Aegor nodded in agreement, sighing. Over a decade had passed. Who could still remember an old lover’s face? To Robert, fickle and indulgent as he was, his enduring obsession wasn’t with the wild and untamed Lyanna Stark herself but with the image of a fiancée stolen away before he could bed her.

“For Robert, it’s less about Lyanna’s beauty and more about the insult to his pride. ‘No man may take what is mine, but I may take what is theirs.’ That’s the sort of scoundrel Robert Baratheon is.”

...

“What do you see when you look around?”

“A military camp?” Aegor furrowed his brow, sensing a deeper meaning behind the Earl’s question.

“Not just any camp.” The Earl laughed heartily. “To most, it’s a military camp. To me, it’s the Seven Kingdoms’ largest high-society matchmaking event. You’re lucky you don’t have noble blood, or you’d have mothers lining up to shove their daughters at you. Look at this place—so many people scrambling to sell themselves or their children to the highest bidder.”

“Marriage alliances... it’s the most effective means of forging bonds and climbing the social ladder.” Aegor finally understood. While he was busy marketing Night’s Watch enterprises, these nobles were busy brokering marriages. Everyone had their hands full. As for whether the rebellion succeeded or failed, likely only Robert cared. “Lady Margaery’s just one example. Who else?”

“Well, leaving aside those vying for Robert’s favor, let’s talk about serious marriage candidates. You’ve heard of Walder Frey, haven’t you?”

“Late Walder Frey? Who hasn’t?” Aegor smirked knowingly. The nickname “Late” also meant “deceased” in Westerosi Common Tongue. Fortunately for the old weasel, it was given by his liege lord, the Tullys, or he’d have drowned the offender in the Green Fork long ago.

“Frey’s house is rich and numerous, but they’ve brought one girl this time who’s truly remarkable—Roslin Frey.”

Aegor raised an eyebrow. Roslin Frey? One of the few women from the show who had truly surprised him with her beauty, especially when compared to her relatives. Many even speculated she was a product of infidelity. He wondered if this world’s Roslin would still stand out.

Aegor considered seeking her out but quickly dismissed the idea. What did her beauty matter to him? Old Walder wouldn’t squander such a daughter lightly, saving her for a match well above a Night’s Watchman’s station.

“And then there’s Edmure Tully, lord of the Riverlands. He’s still unmarried despite being of age. Why? Because his father, Hoster Tully, learned from his success marrying off his daughters. He’s determined not to ‘sell’ his son short, aiming for a match with a duke’s daughter, no less.”

“But with so few suitable candidates left...” Aegor murmured, realizing the problem.

Indeed, the options were limited. The Starks? Their daughters were his nieces. The Arryns? Already connected by marriage. The Lannisters? Out of reach. The Baratheons? Uninterested. The Tyrells? Ambitious for more power. The Martells? Already in secret arrangements. It seemed Hoster Tully’s standards had cornered them into a dilemma.

Aegor smirked. “Margaery Tyrell would be the ideal choice, if only...”

“If only House Tyrell didn’t think so little of the Tullys.” The Earl finished with a knowing grin.

...