Chapter 104: War and Matchmaking Hand in Hand
Margaery's attempt to play Egger had failed; her elaborate act and honeyed words had all gone to waste. Yet, she maintained her poise rather than flying into a resentful rage. In this regard alone, she was leagues ahead of a woman like Cersei.
Seeing that her subtle interrogation had yielded nothing, she didn't bat an eye. She continued their small talk with the same gentle tone, making one more indirect attempt. Upon finding that Egger remained completely impassive, she decisively moved on—she had a far more vital mission on this northern campaign than merely seeking profit.
"Since you put it that way, Lord Egger, I shall wait until this war concludes. Then, I will pay a visit to the Night's Watch office in King's Landing and tour the industries you mentioned." The girl shed her mask of wide-eyed admiration. Her expression returned to normal, a flash of aloof pride flickering in her eyes before being replaced by a new mask. "Oh... the wounded from today's assault are being brought down. I possess some knowledge of the healing arts; I shall go tend to them. My Lords, please excuse me."
Heh, off to perform the mother to her soldiers routine, Egger thought, watching Margaery's graceful figure depart. He felt no actual disdain, however—consistency in a virtuous act makes a person virtuous. Regardless of a person's hidden motives, if they choose the high road in their conduct, they are, for all intents and purposes, a good person.
One should judge a noble girl like her by her actions, not her secret desires. Margaery excelled at political theater, a fundamental skill for any stateswoman. If she could maintain the act for a lifetime, she might truly become a worthy Mother of the Realm. Unfortunately, she was born a decade too late; she had missed her chance to marry Robert.
...
"That little minx is the type to eat you whole," Lord Buckwell remarked. He had been itching to interrupt and warn Egger but had held his tongue. "But it seems I worried for nothing. A partner chosen by Tyrion Lannister wouldn't fall for a basic honey trap. There aren't many in this camp who can make that girl blink; Robert is one, and now you're another."
"You flatter me, My Lord. Honestly, saying no to such a beauty was quite the challenge." Egger smiled. He hadn't truly bested her; he had merely held the line. Without his knowledge of her future, he likely would have been led around by the nose.
"Have you heard the talk going around the camp?" Buckwell asked. He had originally approached Egger because of his status as a Night's Watch officer, but he was finding the young man more interesting by the minute. "Everyone is saying Margaery Tyrell looks exactly like the Hand's late sister, Lyanna Stark."
"Oh?" Egger's interest was piqued. "Is the resemblance real, or...?"
"What do you think?"
"I see." Egger's eyes sharpened. He understood the subtext now. How could common soldiers know what Lyanna Stark looked like? The Tyrells were likely spreading the rumor. If Margaery couldn't be Queen yet, she was apparently willing to be Robert's mistress. This girl would sacrifice anything for her family's advancement; the Tully words "Family, Duty, Honor" arguably suited her better. "And has the King seen her?"
"He has. He gave her a few casual compliments on her beauty and moved on. All her posturing and dressing up went for naught. Robert has seen every kind of woman there is, and he isn't a fool—a Tyrell woman isn't someone you can just walk away from after a night together." The old Earl chuckled, stroking his beard. "Besides, I suspect Robert has forgotten what Lyanna actually looked like. Even if she were a twin, I doubt his heart would stir now."
Egger nodded in agreement. After fifteen years, who remembers the exact face of an old flame? For a man as hedonistic as Robert, he didn't love the wild, "wolf-blooded" Lyanna anymore; he loved the idea of the fiancée he was never allowed to have. It was a matter of wounded pride, not true grief.
...
"Look around. What do you see?"
"A military camp?" Egger frowned at the sudden shift in topic.
"To most, yes. To me? This is the largest high-society matchmaking event in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. You only lack a noble title; otherwise, they'd be swarming you too. Everyone here is trying to sell themselves or their children!"
"Marriage alliances... the best way to move up," Egger realized. While he was selling Night's Watch industry, the lords were selling their bloodlines. "Margaery is one... who else?"
"Well, aside from the girls hoping to catch Robert's eye, there's the famous Lord Frey."
"The Late Lord Frey," Egger smiled.
"Don't say that to a Frey's face," Buckwell warned. "He sent two thousand men and one very pretty girl named Roslin."
"Roslin Frey?"
"You know her? She doesn't look like a Frey at all. Her brother has been parading her around, likely trying to secure a match with Edmure Tully, or perhaps Robb Stark or a Lannister. It's almost sad to see a 'new money' house try so hard to climb and hit a wall at every turn."
Egger remembered Roslin as one of the few beauties in the series. In a family of "weasels," she was an anomaly. He wondered if he should go see her, then realized it would be pointless—Lord Frey was looking for a Great House alliance, not a man in black.
"Then there's Edmure Tully. He's nearly thirty and still single. Why? Because Hoster Tully tasted the sweetness of alliances through his daughters and won't 'sell' his son for anything less than a Great House. The Freys are offering enough dowry to buy Riverrun, but Hoster won't budge. He wants a Princess or a Paramount's daughter... and look around, who is left?"
Egger did the math. The Stark and Arryn girls were Edmure's nieces. Myrcella was too young. The Martells were out. That left only one candidate who met Hoster's criteria: Margaery Tyrell.
"The Little Rose is the only fit," Egger noted. "But..."
"But the Tyrells want the Crown, not the Riverlands."
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