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Margaery lowered her head and withdrew from the hall.
Every step was taken with extreme caution.
The tearing sensation from within her body made it almost impossible to maintain the grace of a noble lady.
She moved back to her guest room in a nearly wretched state.
The handmaiden had already prepared scalding hot water and clean clothes for her.
Margaery soaked herself in the tub; the warm water slightly alleviated the soreness of her body, but could not dispel the gloom in her heart.
They had agreed on only the back, she hadn't expected Lynn to change his mind on the spot...
Margaery looked at her reflection in the water.
That face was still beautiful, but there was something in her eyes she had never had before.
It was the fatigue of being completely conquered, and also a more frantic flame reignited within despair.
Lynn had given her a chance.
A chance to become a true Queen.
But this chance required her to exchange her own value for it.
But what was her value?
Beauty? Body?
In front of that man, these seemingly precious things had become worthless since last night.
Lynn was never short of beautiful women.
Sansa Stark's beauty was like winter sunshine, pure and warm.
That guard named Myranda carried a wild charm, like a she-wolf on the ice plains.
And Myrcella, the eternally pure and moving Baratheon princess.
Margaery closed her eyes, recalling everything Lynn had shown her.
The fearless wildling army.
The miracle of creating food out of thin air.
And that terrifying dragon capable of turning mountains to dust.
She suddenly felt a wave of powerlessness.
In the face of such absolute power, Highgarden's wealth and House Tyrell's army seemed so laughable.
What could she use to prove her value?
Margaery stayed in her room for a whole day.
Not until the early morning of the second day did she push open the door.
She had changed into a simple linen dress, tying her dazzling brown hair back with a simple cloth strip.
Without makeup on her face, she looked like an ordinary Northern woman.
She walked out of the stone building specially prepared for her and entered the real living area of Dragonstone.
In the castle clearing, a group of wildling children were playing in the snow.
One of the seemingly scrawniest boys was pushed to the ground by a tall boy.
"Hahaha! Useless!"
The tall boy put his hands on his hips, laughing proudly.
The surrounding children jeered along.
The scrawny boy lay in the snow, his shoulders heaving, letting out stifled sobs.
No adults paid attention.
In the world of the Free Folk beyond the Wall, women, food, iron... everything depended on competition.
Weakness was the original sin; survival of the fittest was the only law.
Tears were the most obvious mark of the weak.
A half-grown wildling child made a snowball, intending to throw it at the curled-up figure on the ground, but missed.
Accidentally hitting Margaery's clothes.
Margaery walked over.
This silenced the jeering children.
They all recognized this beautiful woman from the south.
She was the honored guest of their King-Beyond-the-Wall, Lord Lynn.
Some timid wildling children, seeing they had made a mistake, were already preparing to slip away.
They didn't know what this woman would do.
But the next scene stunned them.
Margaery didn't look at the tall boy, but walked straight to the child lying in the snow and slowly squatted down.
This simple movement made her gasp in pain, but she forced her expression not to change in the slightest.
"Are you alright?"
Her voice was very light, very gentle.
The scrawny boy raised his head, looking at her warily with red eyes.
His face was covered in tear stains and snow water.
Margaery took out a pure white silk handkerchief from her bosom, one she brought from Highgarden.
She carefully wiped the dirt from the boy's face.
The boy's body was stiff; he had never been treated so gently.
"Don't cry."
A warm smile appeared on Margaery's face.
"A man shouldn't shed tears easily."
She pulled the boy up from the snow and patted the snow off him.
"What is your name?"
"...Gilly."
The boy's voice was as thin as a mosquito's.
"Gilly, a very good name."
Margaery looked at the tall boy who pushed him.
"And you?"
"Tormund!"
The tall boy puffed out his chest and loudly announced his name, as if it were a name to be proud of.
After all, Tormund was the bravest warrior among the wildlings.
These children's parents named them Tormund hoping their children would be as formidable as Tormund in the future.
"Tormund, you are very strong."
Margaery's praise brought a proud smile to the tall boy's face.
"However, a true warrior uses his strength not to bully weak companions."
Margaery's voice remained gentle, but carried a strange power.
"But to protect them."
Margaery pointed outside Dragonstone.
"Your enemies are on the other side."
"Your fathers, your brothers, are fighting to protect your home."
"You are the same."
"You are comrades, brothers."
"You should unite, not bully the weak here to highlight your strength."
The smile on Tormund's face disappeared.
He looked at Gilly, then at Margaery, confusion in his eyes.
The surrounding children also quieted down, thoughtful.
"Reach out your hands."
Margaery said to the two boys.
Both Tormund and Gilly hesitated but reached out.
Margaery took their hands and clasped them together.
"From today on, you are friends."
"Tormund, you must protect Gilly."
"Gilly, you must also train your body."
"When Tormund needs help, you must also bravely stand up."
"Understood?"
"...Understood."
The two boys answered in unison.
Margaery smiled with relief.
Not far away, several wildling women sewing animal skins watched all this.
Their expressions were somewhat complex.
In their view, resources beyond the Wall were scarce; the strong controlled more food, while the weak should be eliminated.
At first, they thought this woman from the south was too weak.
But for some reason, seeing her warm smile, a strange feeling rose in their hearts.
After all, they were now in Dragonstone, where food and clothing were not lacking...
Over the next few days, Margaery came to this clearing every day.
She didn't preach to the children anymore.
She just sat quietly aside, watching them play.
Sometimes, she would take out some snacks brought from Highgarden from her luggage and share them with the children.
Those sweet preserved fruits were delicacies these wildling children had never tasted in their lives.
She would also sit with the wildling women, listening to their stories from beyond the Wall.
Listening to their experiences fighting White Walkers and beasts.
She showed no fear or disgust, just listening quietly, occasionally exclaiming in amazement.
When she saw the women's hands, rough and cracked from years of labor and severe cold, she shared the hand balm she brought with them.
"This is very effective."
She smiled, applying the balm for one of the older women.
"Apply once every night, it will heal soon."
The wildling women were somewhat resistant at first.
In their view, this southern woman was too delicate.
But when the smooth balm was applied to their hands, and the faint scent of roses wafted up, they couldn't help blushing.
Gradually, their attitude toward Margaery changed.
They no longer treated her as a noble guest needing careful service.
They began to treat her as one of their own.
They would actively share food with her, teach her how to distinguish different animal furs.
They even cracked crude jokes with her.
Margaery always smiled, handling everything with composure.
She had none of the arrogance and reserve of a noble lady, but seemed like a rose that could take root and bloom in any soil.
Resilient, and full of affinity.
On the castle tower.
Lynn watched all this through the window.
Myranda stood behind him.
"My Lord, she is buying people's hearts."
Myranda's tone held a hint of wariness.
Lynn smiled and nodded, then shook his head.
He didn't respond to Myranda, this big-chested, brainless woman.
He could tell that every movement, every word of Margaery carried a clear purpose.
But she did it too naturally.
So naturally that one couldn't feel any utilitarianism.
She was like a born Queen, knowing how to use the gentlest way to win people's love and respect.
"A qualified ruler needs not only a sharp sword to make subjects fear, but also a rose for subjects to love."
Lynn thought for a moment, then explained softly to Myranda.
He suddenly remembered Daenerys.
He and Daenerys had liberated Astapor in Slaver's Bay with iron and blood, winning the respect and worship of the slaves.
But those slave masters and nobles hated them to the bone in secret.
Possessing a sharp sword, but lacking a pair of hands to stitch wounds.
He thought of Sansa again.
Sansa was kind, upright, and considerate, possessing the noble blood of House Stark, a thorough lady of a great house.
She could manage her purse well and stubbornly take root in that deadly place, King's Landing.
But she was too conventional, lacking Margaery's innate affinity to break class barriers.
His kingdom needed a sword capable of severing all shackles. It also needed a rose capable of blooming in ice and snow to soothe people's hearts.
Lynn suddenly realized that choosing a Queen was harder than conquering the Seven Kingdoms.
Daenerys, Sansa, Margaery...
Each of them had irreplaceable value.
Daenerys had legitimate orthodoxy; choosing her as Queen would save a lot of trouble.
Sansa was very good at calculation; although the soap empire's peak had passed, the gold dragons she sent him were still a considerable sum, a great contribution.
Although Arya knew nothing, she had the deepest affection for him, and was the first woman he wanted to marry...
Ygritte was the woman most attached to him, and had many tricks; being with her would never be boring.
Not to mention Myrcella; she was obviously a Baratheon princess, also having certain orthodoxy.
Though secretly having Lannister blood.
In terms of status, she should be the most powerful among these women.
Everyone had their own unique advantages; if Lynn really had to choose, it would be difficult.
Maybe...
A crazy idea flashed in his mind.
Who said there could be only one Queen?
Aegon Targaryen could marry two sisters; why couldn't he marry three?
No, four, five, or even more!
A strange smile appeared on Lynn's face.
"Myranda."
"Yes, My Lord."
"Go invite Lady Tyrell over."
"Yes."
Soon, Margaery arrived at the tower.
Not seen for a few days, her complexion was much better, and her walking posture had returned to natural.
That confident and composed smile hung on her beautiful face again.
"My Lord."
She curtsied to Lynn.
"Sit."
Lynn pointed to the chair opposite.
This was the first time she was allowed to sit as an equal with Lynn.
Margaery's heart skipped a beat; she knew her efforts these past few days had paid off.
"How have these days been?"
Lynn asked casually.
"Very good."
Margaery answered with a smile.
"Your people are very simple and lovely."
"You seem to like them very much."
"They are also willing to support you."
"I like everyone loyal to you, My Lord."
Margaery's answer was watertight.
Lynn smiled, no longer beating around the bush.
"You proved your value, Margaery."
His voice became serious.
"Your value lies not in your beauty, nor in House Tyrell's wealth."
"But in that you can make my people love you from the bottom of their hearts."
Margaery's breath hitched.
"My kingdom is a fortress built on ice, snow, and skeletons."
Lynn stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the wildlings training below.
"I need a sword to expand its territory."
"I also need a rose to decorate its walls, telling the world that even in the coldest winter, life can still bloom."
He turned to look at Margaery.
"You are smarter; you have already realized this."
"Alright, come with me."
"I'll take you to see how those long-storage cans are produced."
"After all, I am not a Tyrell; I haven't forgotten the agreement between us."