Passing through the bustling camp where servants were packing supplies and dismantling tents, William made his way toward the wheelhouse.
Margaery was already waiting beside it, accompanied by two of her companions.
Judging by the neatly arranged luggage and prepared horses, everything was ready, and once the ladies boarded, the procession could depart immediately.
“Good morning, Ser William.” Margaery curtsied gracefully alongside her companions.
The morning sunlight draped over them like a veil of gold, rendering the three young women almost radiant in appearance.
William bowed deeply in return.
Gods, she’s beautiful… and those magical fluctuations… “Good morning, my ladies.” Margaery studied him openly.
William had deliberately chosen his preferred black leather armor this morning.
Unusual by Westerosi standards, it was both stylish and practical, with a modern sharpness to its design.
He had personally contributed to its creation, and the craftsmanship was excellent.
The only drawback was the cost, though he had never intended to neglect his own comfort entirely while funding research.
Apparently satisfied with his appearance, Margaery’s lips curved slightly.
“The song you sang this morning…” She tilted her head slightly.
“I have never heard it before.
Is it a song from your homeland?” William smiled.
“Yes.
And no.” A puzzled look appeared in her eyes.
“How can it be both?” “If we speak of who created it, then it belongs to the Riverlands.” He gestured lightly around them.
“But if we speak of where it was created…” His smile widened faintly.
“Then it belongs to the Reach.
Or perhaps more specifically, Bitterbridge.” A soft laugh escaped her.
“What a curious answer.” Her eyes sparkled slightly.
“It sounds like a song written for someone dearly loved.” She studied him for a moment longer.
“Who inspired such feelings in you, Ser William?” The alarm bells immediately rang in William’s mind.
This is a trap.
No matter how I answer, I walk straight into it.
Fortunately, inspiration struck.
He simply smiled… and said nothing.
The silence lingered.
Margaery continued to stare at him.
Then, unexpectedly, a faint blush crept across her cheeks and she took a slow breath.
“This camp is rather noisy.” Her voice softened slightly.
“Would you walk with me?” She then glanced toward one of her companions.
The girl immediately understood.
“We still have some packing to finish.” Another shy-looking maiden quickly followed her lead.
All three curtsied and withdrew without hesitation.
William stood frozen.
For several seconds, his mind simply stopped functioning.
Margaery Tyrell never traveled alone.
Ever.
She always surrounded herself with companions, her caution bordering on ritualistic.
The possibility of being alone with her had never even entered his consideration.
What is happening?
What is actually happening?
Before he could process it further, Margaery had already begun walking toward the Mander.
William hurried after her.
Behind them, the camp remained lively.
Horses neighed, servants called out instructions, and knights inspected saddles and equipment.
Everyone was eager to return to Highgarden, and the atmosphere was bright and expectant.
Yet the two of them walked in silence.
Eventually, after putting distance between themselves and the camp, Margaery stopped beside a patch of wildflowers.
William halted one step away, close enough that he could reach out and touch her hand, and close enough to notice every subtle detail, though he carefully resisted the impulse.
Margaery gazed down at the flowers swaying gently in the morning breeze.
Wild.
Free.
Alive.
Without looking at him, she asked softly, “What does the Golden Hand symbolize?” We are actually discussing the song?
How do I steer this toward magic?
Thinking quickly, William answered, “The Hand of the King wears a golden badge.
Every Hand bears the image of a hand.” Margaery nodded thoughtfully, then asked another question.
“Do you know how much it weighs?” William blinked.
A moment later, understanding dawned, and a faint smile touched his lips.
“For those who believe it light, it is light.
For those who believe it heavy, it is heavy.” Margaery looked at him directly.
“So you believe a lover’s embrace weighs more than the Hand of the King?” William nearly choked.
Personally?
Absolutely not.
I train with swords, study magic, build inventions, manage House Whent’s future… all for Daenerys Targaryen’s return and the power that follows.
Why would I ever undervalue the Hand of the King?
Songwriters really do sacrifice logic for rhyme.
Still, this was not the time for honesty.
So he improvised again.
“The beloved is close enough to touch,” he said calmly.
“The Hand’s power exists far away.
One is real.
The other is only a possibility.” Margaery turned away.
Her expression was difficult to read.
William immediately tried to recover.
“What I mean is…” He cleared his throat.
“Life is short.
We should treasure what is in front of us.” Margaery seemed slightly startled, then her expression softened.
Turning back toward the flowers, she watched them sway in silence.
“Do you remember the feast two nights ago?” William almost laughed.
How could I forget?
Since discovering her magical potential, I’ve been thinking about nothing else.
“I remember it perfectly,” he said.
“I expected it to be ordinary.” Her voice was quiet.
“I would meet another stranger.
Exchange names.
Exchange courtesies.
And then never see them again.” Her fingers brushed lightly across a red flower’s petals.
“As the daughter of Highgarden, I have always understood my future.
Countless meetings like that.
Countless introductions.” She knelt slightly among the flowers.
“And I never believed any of them would truly move me.” The only thing worthy of devotion is House Tyrell’s glory… at least that is what she believes.
Slowly, she rose again.
Her voice dropped into something almost inaudible.
“Then I met you.” Her gaze lowered.
“And I felt something.
Something I have never felt before.” The memory surfaced instantly in William’s mind: that strange sensation when their eyes had met, a ripple as if something deep inside her had awakened.
Something she has never felt before?
I didn’t feel anything unusual… He froze.
Then realization struck like lightning.
Wait.
She sensed it?
Without thinking, he stepped forward.
Three quick strides.
Then he grasped her hand.
Excitement lit his face.
“You felt it?” His voice trembled slightly.
“That feeling?
You really felt it?” Margaery turned her face away, refusing to meet his eyes.
“I cannot describe it.” Her voice shook faintly.
“I am afraid.” She was afraid.
Afraid of what that feeling meant, afraid of what it could change, afraid because it threatened everything she believed about herself.
Since the feast, she had avoided him deliberately.
Yet his song had reached her again, stirring something she could not ignore.
And she realized that if she returned to Highgarden without confronting this, she would regret it forever.
She had to face it.
Here.
Now.
“Don’t be afraid,” William said firmly, squeezing her hand.
“I will take care of everything.” Margaery shook her head, eyes closed.
“I am the Rose of Highgarden.” The words carried the weight of her entire house.
“The honor of House Tyrell rests upon my shoulders.” Her voice lowered to a whisper.
“You do not understand, William.” “I am destined to become the bride of power.” William’s eyes widened.
Bride of power?
She becomes queen three times in the original timeline… is this some kind of prophecy?
His excitement surged instantly.
“That doesn’t matter, Margaery!” Since she had already used his given name, he abandoned formality as well.
His grip tightened.
“I know over a hundred spells,” he said with growing enthusiasm.
“There must be at least one kind of magic you can learn.” Margaery slowly turned back toward him.
Her expression went completely blank.
For several long seconds, she simply stared.
The emotional confession she had prepared… the courage it had taken… the meaning she had tried to express… Had somehow turned into a lecture about magic.
Question marks might as well have filled her eyes.
For the first time in her life, Margaery Tyrell had absolutely no idea what this man was talking about.