"Let's go together."
"Me too?"
"Of course, we need to let her recognize the 'real king' and the 'fake king.'"
It was already late at night. Margaery, however, still hadn't fallen asleep. Horas, who was guarding outside, kept talking, convinced that Viserys was belittling Highgarden.
Margaery's thoughts, however, were different, compared to him, she was much calmer, and Margaery kept pondering Viserys's intentions. 'Is he trying to send a warning to Highgarden? To gain more initiative in the future? What exactly is his attitude towards us? Is this because of Loras?'
As her thoughts spun, footsteps echoed outside. Through the window, she saw two figures in black silk robes, led by Young Connington, approaching her room. All three had silver hair, their identities unmistakable. Margaery knew Viserys had arrived. She quickly turned away from the window, leading her handmaiden to the door to wait.
Soon, Viserys and Dany appeared, walking towards her.
"Your Grace, Princess, I am Margaery, daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden."
This was the first time Margaery had seen Viserys in person. Before, she had only seen his portrait. When she first arrived in Tyrosh, she had mistaken Young Connington for Viserys, which had caused a small misunderstanding. Young Connington was indeed handsome, and when he told her he was not Viserys, she had felt a slight twinge of disappointment. 'After all,' she thought, 'I'll be spending the rest of my life with him—it wouldn't hurt if he were a bit more attractive.'
Then she recalled hearing that the Targaryens were all famously beautiful, and she had assumed Viserys must not be much worse than Young Connington. 'Perhaps Viserys won't be so bad either.'
However, the moment she saw Viserys, any lingering regret vanished. Not only was Viserys in no way inferior to Young Connington in appearance, but his temperament far surpassed his. No, not surpassed—there was simply no comparison between the two. Viserys possessed an imposing air she had never encountered before. It gave the unmistakable impression of someone unstoppable. This was not something an ordinary lord could match—certainly not Renly.
Her eyes flicked to Daenerys. Dany had grown taller, now standing at 1.65 meters. Viserys's crossing had coincided with the peak of her growth. She had plenty of nourishment, and compared to her earlier, more petite build, she could now be considered tall. There was still room for her to grow, and Margaery guessed she could easily reach 1.7 meters.
Additionally, Dany now held a position of power. She had fought alongside Viserys in the war, proving her strength. A rose is beautiful when it blooms, but a dragoness can truly breathe fire and devour her enemies. Margaery quickly discarded any budding ambitions she might have entertained.
"Lady Margaery, how is Lady Olenna's health?" Viserys asked, seemingly unsure of what to say.
"Thanks to Your Grace's concern, my grandmother is doing very well," Margaery replied, surprised he had asked.
"Well, the Targaryens and the Tyrells are both fortunate to have an elder at home to guide them. You should visit Aemon sometime. He enjoys spending time with younger people."
"I will remember that, Your Grace," she answered politely, though her thoughts continued. 'He must want to get closer to me, which is why he's inviting me to visit Aemon. It seems Highgarden's support still holds value for him.'
The Little Rose had made her judgment. However, it didn't take long for her to realize she might have been overthinking things.
"Dany, if you have time, could you keep Lady Margaery company for me? I'll go ahead."
Margaery looked puzzled. "?"
"Yes, brother," Dany responded, then turned to Margaery. "Lady Margaery, you must want to see a dragon, right? How about I take you for a ride?"
"A dragon ride?" Margaery echoed in surprise.
With Margaery temporarily distracted, Viserys turned his attention to connecting with the Red Viper. To his surprise, Melisandre was also present in the Red Viper's dream. At first, Viserys thought Oberyn was dreaming of Melisandre, but he soon realized that it was truly her. The square ruby around her neck pulsed with a soft glow.
'Hm, kind of like the light on a phone,' Viserys mused.
"Viserys Targaryen."
"Melisandre."
After they exchanged names and prepared to begin negotiations, the Red Viper interjected, unwilling to be left out.
"Oberyn Martell."
Unfortunately for him, neither Viserys nor Melisandre acknowledged his introduction. The Red Viper, however, didn't seem to mind being ignored.
"Viserys, I hope you will help Stannis lead the world through the night. With your support, our chances of defeating the White Walkers will be much stronger."
Melisandre's words amused Viserys. 'After living for hundreds of years, how could she believe I would be swayed so easily?'
The Red Viper seemed equally baffled by her suggestion. It was clear to both of them that Viserys was far stronger now, unmatched by anyone in the world. Why would he tie himself to Stannis when he could lead alone? 'Why cling to Stannis and refuse to let go?' Viserys thought, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.
"Why should I help him, and not the other way around? I am the emperor now—what is he?"
"He is the savior," Melisandre replied calmly.
Viserys glanced at the Red Viper, who quickly caught on to his meaning.
"I already told her, the savior is reborn in the land of smoke and salt—not the fief of smoke and salt," Oberyn added.
"That's an interesting interpretation," Melisandre remarked, though her stubbornness remained clear.
Seeing her unyielding, Viserys pressed on. "You've heard about how my sister and I hatched the dragons, haven't you? Someone told me that my sister, Daenerys, is the savior. She was born on Dragonstone, and they even said I'm Nissa Nissa..." He paused, realization dawning. 'Wait—hold on! Are you asking me to be Stannis's Nissa Nissa?'
Viserys's voice sharpened. "Melisandre, do you seriously think I am the one to make the Lord of Light powerful?"
For the first time, a look of surprise crossed her face. She hadn't expected him to mention the Lord of Light so directly.
"It would be good if you have such a realization," she said softly.
Oberyn, standing by, suddenly seemed more intrigued, as though her talk of the savior resonated with his own… preferences. But Viserys paid him no attention, instead reflecting on how age and power seemed to make people so inflexible. The Undying Ones had lost themselves in their pursuit of immortality. Now Melisandre, fixated on her vision of the chosen one, stubbornly refused to reconsider.
'Anyone with eyes can see that I am the one who will reunite Westeros,' Viserys thought. But to Melisandre, Stannis remained the true Azor Ahai. Even if he is, Viserys considered, Stannis could still be the last man who makes the final stab.
"But listen," Viserys continued, his voice calm yet firm, "my goal is also to defeat the White Walkers and lead the living through the Long Night. Even if you believe Stannis is the savior, we can still cooperate—but this alliance must be led by me." His eyes flashed with resolve. 'And if that doesn't work... I'll just kill Robert, throw Stannis and Renly both over the Wall,' he thought, a cold resolve settling in.
Melisandre studied him, silent for a long moment. Finally, she spoke. "Viserys, I have seen you kill Robert and take the Iron Throne... but then, you will still die. The Avenger of Light will pierce your chest. We must all accept our fate."