...Evening.
Arthas sat at the dining table, enjoying the roasted steak in front of him to his heart's content.
The dinner knife in his hand was like a scalpel, precisely cutting the fine marbling of the steak; his elegant movements made him look like a skilled surgeon.
His elegant dining movements did not slow down his eating speed; in just a short while, a large piece of steak had already completely entered his stomach.
"Lord Arthas, your methods and strength are truly admirable."
At the other end of the table, Margaery Tyrell, the Little Rose from Highgarden, was holding a glass of wine, her lively eyes looking at him with an expression of great admiration.
Margaery didn't seem hungry and showed no interest in the table full of delicacies; she just watched Arthas with great interest, gently swirling the wine glass in her hand and taking a sip from time to time.
It seemed that admiring Arthas's handsome face was more satiating than enjoying the food.
"Margaery Young Miss."
Having eaten until he was about seventy percent full, Arthas also picked up the wine glass in front of him and took a sip.
"If I remember correctly, this is already the third time we've had dinner together."
"Are the people of House Tyrell all this leisurely?"
Since he had rejected her invitation last time and had dinner with her at his residence, Margaery had taken it upon herself to run to Arthas's place every day on time to share a meal.
But every time, she didn't eat the food on the table; she just drank wine by herself and kept staring at Arthas, as if trying to see something in him.
Looking up at this woman who harbored ulterior motives yet pretended to be innocent, Arthas was very curious about what she was trying to do.
"Of course, my lord."
For this Lannister heir, who was now the handsome young Commander of the Gold Cloaks, Margaery did not hide the look of admiration in her eyes.
But this guy was like a piece of eternal, unmelting ice; although he always had a gentle smile on his face, his eyes never revealed a trace of lust toward her.
Margaery, who had always been very confident in her appearance, was deeply struck; if it were any other man in King's Landing, faced with such a gesture of goodwill, they would have likely been unable to wait to pounce on her.
Of course... except for Renly, that guy only likes his own brother.
"As the wealthy Tyrell eldest daughter, what else do you think I would need to worry about personally?"
She sighed softly, as if reminding the insensitive Arthas that a beautiful and moving daughter of a Duke was sitting in front of him:
"I am just an ordinary girl hoping to find true love."
"Hahaha, Margaery Young Miss, you are too modest."
Arthas elegantly swirled the wine glass in his hand, the smile on his face as gentle as the rising dawn.
Regarding the exquisite acting skills of this thorny Little Rose before him, even he, having lived two lives, couldn't help but admire it.
If Arthas were still that young and impulsive prince of lordaeron, he had no doubt he would be swallowed by this thorny rose until not even his bone fragments remained.
On the other side, looking at Arthas who didn't take the bait at all, even Margaery, with her strong psychological quality, couldn't help but doubt her own charm.
Margaery was already sixteen years old; as the eldest daughter of the Tyrell Family, like the daughters of other noble houses, she bore the heavy responsibility of marrying into a family of the same level.
Among the nobles of Westeros, marriage was always the most direct and effective way to gain allies.
But unlike an ordinary daughter of a duke, Margaery's ambition was very large—so large that she was not content to step-by-step marry any duke's heir and wait to become a duchess.
She wanted to be the Queen!
Coming to King's Landing this time, Margaery was originally aiming for the heir to the throne, which is Joffrey.
But she didn't expect to unexpectedly discover a potential stock like Arthas.
The Tyrell Family, as the famous socialites of Westeros, would only choose the option that best suited the Family's interests under any circumstances.
In some ways, they valued interests even more than that old fox Tywin.
With Margaery's sharp eyes, she had no doubt that this kind and sunny blonde youth in front of her would definitely become the most dazzling existence in all of Westeros in the future!
"I went to see him."
Just as the dinner was gradually falling into a stalemate, Margaery suddenly blurted out such a sentence.
"That High Sparrow, the new High Septon of the Faith."
Seeing Arthas cast a curious look at her, Margaery acted as if her scheme had succeeded, raising her wine glass and tilting her head back to drink the wine in one gulp, her long and fair neck thus exposed without reservation in Arthas's line of sight.
Whether intentionally or unintentionally, a few drops of dark red wine slowly flowed down her cheek, passing over her alluring collarbone and flowing all the way to her high, towering peaks.
Out of male instinct, Arthas couldn't help but take a few more looks at the girl's well-developed features.
Slowly putting down the wine glass, the Little Rose, who had been secretly observing Arthas's reaction, finally showed a satisfied smile:
"I don't like that guy."
"Liking or not is not the standard. Get to the point."
Arthas calmly looked at Margaery, who was acting coquettishly as if drunk, and didn't feel that his previous gaze was in any way impolite.
Since the other party wanted to play, he would play with her.
"I don't know why you appointed such a... special new High Septon for the Faith."
Recalling her meeting with the High Sparrow, a trace of an unnatural expression appeared on Margaery's face:
"When he looked at me, I always felt like I was facing a cold, emotionless object."
"Although that guy always has a solemn look, I saw an endless desire for power in his eyes."
"That is a madman, a madman who would do anything for power."
Such a precise evaluation of the High Sparrow made Arthas look at this sixteen-year-old girl with new eyes.
If he hadn't lived two lives and could even directly face the other's Soul, perhaps he really wouldn't have seen the deep-seated desires hidden in the heart of that upright-looking fellow.
"So, why are you telling me all this, dear Margaery Young Miss?"
The curiosity in Arthas's eyes grew even stronger; he had never encountered a girl as special as Margaery.
In her, he saw a completely different feeling from Jaina.
"Just a well-intentioned reminder."
Seeing that this ice-like youth had finally developed a trace of interest in her, Margaery, who was good at controlling people's hearts, decided to press her advantage.
She picked up the wine glass and poured herself more wine, walking with a young girl's light steps to Arthas, slowly leaning down and leaning into Arthas's ear:
"A knife may be useful, but if it's too sharp, it might hurt oneself..."
"My dear commander of the city watch."
Margaery emphasized those last few words heavily, her body leaning closer and closer, until the two of them were almost pressed together.
Waves of delicate fragrance from the girl mixed with the aroma of wine kept wafting over, but Arthas once again unromantically performed a tactical lean-back, leaning against the back of the chair to widen the distance between them:
"Then there's no need for you to worry."
Arthas stared intently at the girl's bright face, his golden eyes appearing incredibly sharp under the candlelight, as if everything were within his grasp.
"If a knife hurts its master, it only proves that the one holding the knife lacks skill."
"Moreover, the crazier that guy is, the happier I am."
"Harvesting a fallen Soul is what brings me ultimate pleasure!"
Regarding Arthas's final words, Margaery only took them as a metaphor, assuming the other party just liked this kind of cat-and-mouse game.
"What you said makes you sound truly like a heretical evil god."
The beautiful girl's smile was like a flower, her shoulders trembling slightly as she joked along with Arthas's words.
"But how do you know that I am not?"
As soon as he finished speaking, a faint chill emanated from Arthas; Margaery trembled all over, and even her thoughts seemed frozen.
She only felt that the one in front of her was not that kind and amiable youth, but a... Death God from another world!
"Knock, knock, knock..."
Just then, a crisp sound of knocking on the door broke the current silence.
The chill in the room instantly vanished, and a warm smile reappeared on the blonde youth's face, as if the nightmare-like scene just now was merely an illusion.
"Lord Arthas, Davon is awake and is clamoring to come find you immediately."
Lancel, looking every bit like a secretary, walked in; seeing the two of them in a slightly awkward atmosphere, his large eyes were full of doubt, but he didn't dare to ask.
"I know, tell him to wait a moment."
Arthas stood up, slowly putting his arm around the girl's obviously stiff, slender waist, and gently lifted her from the table to place her on the ground.
Clearly, the scene just now had frightened her a bit.
"I am truly sorry, Margaery Young Miss."
He bowed elegantly to her, his gentle temperament a world away from the coldness of a moment ago:
"As you can see, I have other matters to attend to here. Please forgive my poor hospitality."
"Of course, Lord Arthas."
Slowly recovering from the fear, surprisingly, this meticulous girl was not only unafraid but became even more curious about the youth before her.
"I very much look forward to our next meeting."
Lifting her skirt, Margaery's eyes held a look of excitement; without any lingering, she left decisively.
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