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Game of Thrones: House of Black Dragon
Game of Thrones: BLOODTHIRSTY BASTARD
Game of Thrones: Dragon Knight of Harrenhal
Game of Thrones: Archer's Ordinary Life
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Margaery stood there, her thoughts a mess.
Those clay jars felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, pressing down on her so she could hardly breathe.
Cans.
Food.
The Long Night.
These words echoed constantly in her mind.
Finally, they converged into a word that made her shudder.
Power.
This was true power.
Not the title of King, not the gold mines of the Lannisters, and certainly not the seemingly invincible knightly order of Highgarden.
But when everyone else was wailing in despair from hunger and cold, being able to calmly open a can of food worth dying for to soldiers.
Winter is Coming. The Long Night is here.
This was the motto House Stark had spoken for eight thousand years.
But for eight thousand years, aside from building a wall of ice, what had everyone done?
Everyone had done nothing.
And this man before her, this King-Beyond-the-Wall regarded as a savage by southern nobles, had found the only way to survive this disaster sweeping the entire world.
Not only had he found it, but he also held this lifeline firmly in his own hands.
Margaery knew better than anyone what this meant.
It meant that from this moment on, the fate of all kingdoms on the continent of Westeros would be decided by this man.
Whoever he wanted to live, would live.
Whoever he wanted to die, would have to turn into a stiff corpse amidst hunger and cold.
When the Long Night descended, when all of Westeros fell into the despair of hunger and cold.
This man, and this barren land beneath his feet, would possess enough food to feed the entire continent.
What did that mean?
It meant he didn't even need to use that terrifying dragon.
He only needed to sit on his cold throne and watch the southern nobles kill each other for the last crumbs of bread.
Then, he only needed to open the granaries, and countless starving soldiers would kneel and kiss his boots for a piece of his black bread.
Then the soldiers would turn their swords and stab the lords they once served.
This was a true miracle.
This was the most unrivaled power!
Margaery thought of Highgarden.
She thought of that fertile Reach, thought of her foolish and shortsighted father, thought of her family still complacent over a laughable marriage alliance.
They knew nothing.
They were still dreaming their sweet dreams, thinking that relying on the granaries of the south, they could be invincible in this game of thrones.
Laughable!
Too laughable!
When the Long Night descended, when the sun did not rise for years, when the land was frozen and yielded no harvest.
How long could Highgarden's granaries support them?
One year? Two years?
And then?
Then, they would be like beasts unable to find food in winter, killing each other for the last bit of rations.
And at that time, Lynn's army could eat fresh food stored for years and easily flatten the entire South.
"Miss Tyrell, what are you thinking?"
Lynn's voice pulled Margaery back from the abyss of fear.
"I... I was thinking, what Highgarden should do."
Margaery's voice choked.
This was also the first time she had revealed heartfelt vulnerability in front of Lynn.
Even when Lynn was taking her from behind, she hadn't been this sad and pained.
Lynn looked at her, a smile appearing on his face.
"Now, the Long Night is coming; you should also go back and prepare how to survive the winter."
Go back?
How could she go back?
Was she to go back and tell her father and grandmother that the advantages they thought they had were just a joke in front of Lynn?
Was she to tell them that the fate of House Tyrell was already in this man's hands?
"My Lord..."
Margaery took a step forward, her beautiful brown eyes full of pleading.
"I beg you, help Highgarden."
"Help House Tyrell."
"Oh?"
Lynn raised an eyebrow.
"Why should I help Highgarden?"
"I still remember their betrayal."
"And I, being who I am, unless I see substantial benefits, am not foolish like before."
Margaery's face paled.
"I... am willing to pay any price!"
"Any price?"
Lynn seemed to hear something interesting.
He walked up to Margaery, looking down at her.
"You have already paid the price."
"I have already enjoyed your body."
"Your loyalty should also belong to me now."
Lynn's words tore Margaery's newly built psychological defense to shreds again.
Her body swayed, almost unsteady on her feet.
Did he not want to help the Tyrells?
Lynn interrupted her thoughts.
"You have proven your value; I have repeated this."
"You became my woman; I can guarantee you a high position, a life without worry for food and clothing, safe from harm by others for the rest of your life."
"But that is only your value, not House Tyrell's."
"You only represent yourself now."
Margaery's lips moved, but she couldn't say a word.
The chip of her body seemed so pale and powerless before this man.
Seeing her lost soul look, Lynn suddenly smiled.
"However..."
He changed the subject.
"For the sake of your hard work last night, I can give you a chance."
Margaery jerked her head up, a trace of hope reigniting in her eyes.
"My method is just the crudest principle."
Lynn pointed to the barrels still fermenting.
"I can use other methods to produce more efficiently."
"As long as there are enough blacksmiths to forge enough iron cans, my efficiency can increase ten times, even a hundred times."
Margaery's breathing quickened.
She knew Lynn was showing her another mountain of gold.
A mountain of gold even larger and more tempting than the previous one.
"If you want to cooperate, that's fine too."
Lynn finally revealed his dagger.
"Have the Tyrells send grain, iron, and craftsmen to the North."
"I want a continuous stream."
"This way I can make cans for Highgarden."
"As payment..."
Lynn extended a finger, shaking it in front of Margaery.
"Half of the grain you send will serve as my processing fee."
Half!
Margaery's pupils contracted.
This wasn't cooperation.
This was extortion!
Naked extortion!
Using half the grain to exchange for the other half being stored.
This was simply an unheard-of overlord clause!
"This price... is too high."
Margaery spoke with difficulty.
"Highgarden... probably cannot bear it."
"High?"
Lynn smiled.
That smile held a trace of undisguised mockery.
"What I sell is survival."
"How much grain do you think a life is worth?"
"When your people starve to death in the snow, when your soldiers pick up weapons to rebel against you because of hunger, will you still think this price is high?"
Margaery's face instantly turned pale as paper.
She couldn't refute.
Because Lynn spoke the truth.
In the face of survival, no price was too high.
"I... I'm afraid I cannot make the decision."
Margaery's voice carried a tremor.
"Very good."
Lynn nodded.
"Then go back and tell your grandmother who can make the decision."
"Tell her this is her only chance."
"I don't have that much patience, and my 'workshop' capacity is limited."
"Miss it, and it's gone forever."
"Others should also be interested in my craft."
Lynn turned around, no longer looking at her.
"By the way."
As if remembering something, Lynn added another sentence.
"I only talk to people who can make decisions."
"If you can't, have your grandmother send someone who can."
"But next time, the price might not be half."
With that, Lynn walked straight out of this workshop full of vitality and hope, leaving Margaery standing dumbly alone.
The cold wind blew past, kicking up snow dust from the ground, hitting her face, bone-chillingly cold.
But Margaery felt no cold at all.
Her insides had long been burned scorching hot by a fire of fear.
She knew she had to go back.
Immediately, right now.
She had to tell her grandmother everything that happened here, exactly as it was.
...
Three days later.
On the docks of White Harbor, Margaery Tyrell boarded the magnificent ship flying the golden rose banner with an awkward posture.
She didn't look back.
She dared not look back.
She was afraid that if she turned around, she would see that devil-like figure standing at the highest point of Dragonstone, mocking her wretchedness with those cold eyes.
Sails raised, sea breeze blowing.
The ship slowly left the harbor, sailing toward the warm south, toward the hometown she was both familiar with and estranged from.
On the deck, Margaery tightened the fur cloak around her, casting her gaze toward the azure ocean.