Karl was genuinely intrigued by the mysterious woman Earl Roland Crakehall had mentioned.
After all, Roland Crakehall was one of the most influential lords in the Westerlands. For a man like him to describe someone as "mysterious" was unusual enough. More importantly, this woman had apparently known Karl would pass through Crakehall and had arrived ahead of time specifically to meet him.
That alone was enough to spark Karl's curiosity.
As his army entered Crakehall and he followed Earl Roland toward a private chamber, Karl began considering every possibility.
Who could this woman be?
Who possessed enough influence, foresight, and confidence to arrange such a meeting?
After running through countless names, only one person came to mind.
Melisandre.
The Red Priestess.
The mysterious woman from Asshai.
A figure cloaked in red, gifted with prophetic visions, backed by a powerful god, and feared throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
The more Karl thought about it, the more reasonable the guess seemed.
"Could it really be her?"
"She has the ability to foresee certain events."
"She might have known I would come here."
"Perhaps the appearance of dragons changed the prophecy."
Karl narrowed his eyes.
In the original course of events, Melisandre had chosen Stannis Baratheon as Azor Ahai reborn.
But things had changed.
Karl had hatched dragons.
He had achieved victories no one expected.
His influence continued to expand.
If prophecies truly existed, perhaps they had shifted.
Perhaps Melisandre had begun to doubt Stannis.
Perhaps she had come to offer him her allegiance.
The possibility was not entirely absurd.
Yet another thought soon followed.
A much darker one.
Karl's expression gradually hardened.
"If she still supports Stannis..."
"If she sees me as a threat..."
"Then she may have come to kill me."
The Red Woman possessed powers that could not be explained by ordinary means.
Shadow magic.
Prophecy.
Assassination.
If Melisandre truly wished him dead, approaching him under the guise of a private meeting would be an effective strategy.
Karl let out a slow breath.
"Better safe than sorry."
At once, faint magical lights flickered around him.
He activated every enhancement available to him.
Protective enchantments.
Weapon enchantments.
Defensive buffs.
Then came the potions.
Strength.
Agility.
Endurance.
Magic resistance.
Even several emergency potions were prepared and placed within easy reach.
After a moment's hesitation, he removed the armor forged for him by Tobho Mott and replaced it with his dragon-forged armor.
By the time he finished, Karl was fully armed and prepared for anything.
If the visitor truly was Melisandre, he would not be caught unprepared.
Then came a knock at the door.
Karl opened his eyes.
"Come in."
The wooden door creaked open.
A hooded woman stepped inside.
Without speaking, she quietly shut the door behind her and slid the bolt into place.
Karl immediately became alert.
The woman slowly approached.
His muscles tensed.
His hand drifted toward his weapon.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The woman stopped.
Then she reached up and lowered her hood.
Karl froze.
Soft brown curls.
Brown eyes.
A beautiful face he instantly recognized.
His carefully prepared battle readiness vanished in an instant.
"Margaery Tyrell?!"
The words escaped before he could stop them.
Karl stared at her in disbelief.
Out of all the possibilities he had considered, this was the one he had never imagined.
The mysterious woman was not Melisandre.
It was Margaery Tyrell.
The famous Little Rose of Highgarden.
For a brief moment, Karl regretted not dealing with Earl Roland earlier.
Had he seized Crakehall outright, perhaps he would have avoided this entire situation.
Unfortunately, it was too late for regrets.
Margaery smiled.
Even after her journey, she remained breathtakingly beautiful.
Then she delivered a statement so shocking that Karl nearly forgot how to think.
"I came for love."
Karl blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then a third time.
Surely he had misheard.
"You came for what?"
Margaery's cheeks flushed pink.
Instead of answering, she stepped forward and threw herself into his arms.
Karl stood completely stunned.
This situation made absolutely no sense.
Margaery Tyrell?
The carefully cultivated jewel of House Tyrell?
The future queen of Renly Baratheon?
Throwing herself into his arms?
Had the world gone mad?
Before Karl could react, Margaery lifted her face.
Her eyes met his.
Then she closed the distance.
The sweet scent of flowers filled the air.
Karl felt his mind go blank.
The unexpected advance caught him completely off guard.
For several seconds, he simply stood there in shock.
Then instinct finally returned.
His hands moved.
Not to embrace her.
Instead, he lifted her away from him.
A moment later, Margaery found herself landing safely upon a nearby bed.
The motion was gentle enough to avoid injury but firm enough to create distance.
Margaery looked equally stunned.
She had clearly expected a very different outcome.
For a moment she simply sat there staring.
Karl touched his lips thoughtfully.
The lingering sweetness remained.
The entire situation felt surreal.
Across the room, Margaery sat upon the bed, her cheeks flushed and her breathing slightly uneven.
Yet Karl's thoughts were no longer focused on beauty.
They were focused on politics.
Suspicion.
Strategy.
And danger.
He calmly drank an antidote potion.
Just in case.
Then he walked toward her.
"Did you come alone?"
The question instantly shattered the atmosphere.
Margaery's expression changed.
"I... I ran away."
She hesitated before continuing.
"I don't support what my family is doing."
"You are the true king."
"Renly is not worthy."
Karl almost laughed.
The story sounded ridiculous.
"You expect me to believe that?"
He folded his arms.
"You are Margaery Tyrell."
"The daughter of one of the most powerful families in Westeros."
"The future queen of Renly Baratheon."
"And somehow you escaped Highgarden alone?"
"You crossed half the realm unnoticed?"
"You arrived in the Westerlands without anyone knowing?"
Karl's voice grew colder.
"And Earl Roland just happened to assist you."
"He just happened to arrange a private meeting."
"Doesn't that seem convenient?"
Margaery visibly tensed.
For a brief moment, panic flashed across her face.
But she recovered quickly.
Far quicker than most people could.
Karl couldn't help admiring her intelligence.
She truly was dangerous.
"I disguised myself as a servant," she explained.
"I left another girl in my place."
"I claimed to be ill."
"The deception bought me time."
"As for Lord Roland..."
She lowered her gaze.
"I begged for his help."
"He agreed after hearing my story."
Her explanation flowed smoothly.
Every loophole Karl pointed out was immediately patched.
Had someone less experienced been sitting across from her, they might have believed every word.
Unfortunately for Margaery, Karl was not that person.
"All of this..."
Karl smiled faintly.
"...for love?"
Margaery looked up.
Tears began gathering in her eyes.
A convincing performance.
Beautiful.
Heartbreaking.
And perhaps entirely genuine.
"What else could I do?"
Her voice trembled.
"I am only a woman."
The implication was obvious.
In this room, Karl held all the power.
If he wished, no one could stop him.
Karl ignored the emotional appeal.
Instead, he continued examining the situation logically.
"You were meant to be Robert's queen."
"Then Renly's queen."
"And now you're in my chamber."
His eyes narrowed.
"What exactly do you want, Lady Margaery?"
Something changed in her expression.
The tears became real.
Or at least more convincing.
"I never cared about becoming anyone's queen."
Her voice shook.
"I admired you long before any of this."
"Before Casterly Rock."
"Before dragons."
"Before crowns."
"I tried to approach you."
"You rejected me."
"And now you're rejecting me again."
She stood.
Tears slid down her cheeks.
"Do you know how much courage it took to come here?"
"To leave my family?"
"To risk everything?"
"I only wanted you to see me."
With that, she turned away.
Her shoulders trembled.
The image was enough to make almost any man feel guilty.
Karl, however, felt a headache forming.
Because the problem was not Margaery herself.
The problem was House Tyrell.
The more he analyzed the situation, the more obvious the scheme became.
This was a political trap.
An incredibly clever one.
Whether it originated from Margaery herself or the Queen of Thorns, the result remained the same.
House Tyrell had created a situation where every outcome benefited them.
If Karl accepted Margaery, the Tyrells could immediately switch sides.
Renly would become irrelevant.
House Tyrell would gain influence with Karl.
Their armies would join his cause.
If Karl rejected her, they could still claim she had been wronged.
And if matters escalated, they could accuse Karl of abducting her.
After all, Margaery was physically here.
Inside his chamber.
Under the same roof.
The evidence practically created itself.
Karl could already imagine the accusations.
The political pressure.
The endless arguments before lords and nobles.
It was brilliant.
Infuriatingly brilliant.
A single woman.
A single carefully orchestrated encounter.
And suddenly House Tyrell possessed leverage no matter what happened next.
Karl rubbed his forehead.
The more he thought about it, the more impressed he became.
This move carried almost no risk for House Tyrell.
Yet the potential rewards were enormous.
If Karl accepted the arrangement, they gained a king.
If he refused, they still gained a narrative.
Either way, they won.
Looking at Margaery, who continued sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, Karl finally understood.
This was not merely a romantic confession.
It was politics.
Marriage.
Alliance.
Power.
A proposal disguised as love.
And House Tyrell had just placed their most valuable piece on the board.
The Little Rose.
Now the question was simple.
Would Karl accept the offer?
Or would he find a way to escape the trap they had so carefully prepared?
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)