Passing by a servant who was tidying up, William arrived beside the wheel palace, where Margaery was waiting with two female companions. Their belongings seemed already packed; all that remained was for the ladies to board the carriage before departure.
"Good morning, Ser William." Margaery, along with her companions, kneeled in greeting. The morning light draped them in a thin halo, making them appear even more radiant.
"So beautiful! Look at the enchanting flow of magic," William admired silently. "Good morning, lovely ladies."
Margaery gave William an appraising glance.
The black leather armor he wore was eye-catching—its style novel, craftsmanship exquisite. Since he had helped design it, it also had a modern touch. If one were to nitpick, the only flaw was its cost—after winning a massive prize at the martial tournament, investing in research was justified, but he couldn't neglect treating himself, right?
Seemingly finding William handsome, Margaery's lips curved slightly. "The song you just sang—I've never heard it before. Is it a folk song from your homeland?"
"Yes… and no."
Margaery blinked, puzzled.
"By its creator, it's from the Riverlands. By the place of its creation, it's from the Reach, or rather, a ballad of this Riverside Keep."
"Hehe," Margaery's eyes sparkled. "It sounds like a song for a beloved one. Ser, who has left such a deep mark on your heart?"
"Oh no, a trap…" William realized any answer might get him in trouble. Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he simply smiled without speaking.
Seeing him just smile, Margaery's cheeks flushed slightly.
Taking a deep breath, she said, "It's a bit noisy here. Shall we walk over there?" She glanced back at one of her companions.
"We still have some things to pack. Excuse us, my lady, Ser," said a shy-looking girl, leading three young ladies to bow and then turn neatly to leave.
Margaery was naturally cautious, always seeming to bring a few companions. She was never alone! William hadn't expected any chance to be alone with her.
'What's going on?' William was caught off guard by this sudden pleasure, unsure what to do. Seeing Margaery stepping toward the Mander River, he decided to follow.
The camp buzzed with voices and the neighing of horses. The tents had already been taken down, servants packing luggage, and knights inspecting their mounts. Tonight they would return to Highgarden, back to familiar homes, each face glowing with happiness.
The two walked in silence, one behind the other. A little away from the camp, Margaery stopped in front of a patch of wildflowers. William naturally stood a step away, restraining himself from touching those enticing, delicate hands.
Margaery didn't look at William, only at the wildflowers, free and vibrant. "Is the Golden Hand a metaphor for something, Ser?"
'So we're really talking about the song,' William thought, wondering how to shift the topic. He replied casually, "I've heard that the Hand of the King' emblems are all made of gold, and they always feature a hand."
"Do you know its weight?"
William paused, then understood. "To someone who thinks it's light, it's light. To someone who thinks it's heavy, it's heavy."
"So, you think the embrace of a beloved is heavier than the Golden Hand?"
William certainly didn't think a beloved's embrace outweighed the Golden Hand—otherwise, all his martial training, magic study, research, and career efforts would be for nothing. He was preparing for the return of the Mother of Dragons, the reshuffling of Westeros, and to make his mark during those times. If given a chance, a King's Hand position was worth striving for.
'The songwriters will do anything for rhyme—I have no idea what they intended,' William thought, though he couldn't say this aloud. He forced an explanation: "A beloved is close, within reach; the hand of power is far away, intangible."
Margaery turned, her expression complex, impossible to read as either a smile or anger. William quickly added, "I mean, life is short. Cherish what's before you."
Margaery seemed momentarily taken aback. Her expression softened as she turned to watch the wildflowers swaying in the wind, no longer looking at William. "Do you remember the banquet the day before yesterday? You foolishly came to the dais to toast, and that joke from Aunt Jenna that wasn't funny at all."
"How could I forget?" William sighed inwardly. Ever since he sensed Margaery's magical aura, he had constantly thought about how to approach her, to guide her into the world of magic. He answered honestly: "Unforgettable."
"I thought what would come next would be an ordinary scene—exchanging names with a stranger, bowing to each other, just like I've done many times before, and then… perhaps nothing would follow." Margaery slowly crouched, brushing her hand over a small red flower. "As a daughter of Highgarden, I've long been prepared. In my life, there will be countless such meetings, and I don't think any will truly move me. The only thing I could ever hold in my heart was my family's honor.''
Margaery slowly stood again, her voice low. "Until… I met you. Until… I felt something I've never experienced before." She couldn't help but recall that moment—a thrill from the depths of her soul, surging suddenly as their eyes met.
"What… something she's never felt before? How come I didn't feel it… she sensed it?!" William suddenly realized. He hurried forward in three quick steps, grabbed her hand, and looked into her eyes with excitement. "You felt it? It's really that feeling?"
Margaery sharply turned her head away, refusing to meet his gaze. "I can't put this feeling into words. I'm so scared…" She feared that this feeling would completely destroy the person she used to be. That's why she had avoided him—until she heard that song. She felt another string in her heart being plucked. She knew that if she returned to Highgarden now, it would be her eternal failure. She had to face him, whatever the outcome—joy or sorrow. Everything had to end, here, now.
"Don't be afraid. I've got this!" William said confidently.
"I am the rose of Highgarden, bearing the honor of my family," Margaery said, shaking her head painfully and closing her eyes. "You know nothing, William. I am destined to be the bride of power!"
'Margaery will be married to three kings—truly a bride of power… Is this some kind of prophecy?' William was ecstatic. "It doesn't matter, Margaery!" Since she had called his name, he naturally pressed his advantage. "I know hundreds of spells. Surely there's magic you can learn."
Margaery looked at William, completely puzzled, her eyes full of question marks, adorably dumbfounded.