Jon had only been waiting outside the mansion for five minutes when she appeared at the door.
And the moment he laid eyes on her, he fell into a daze.
'Why is she so beautiful today?'
Jon had seen the girl plenty of times; in fact, just yesterday he had seen her with her family at the Tourney ground, but at that time, he hadn't felt anything other than the usual, 'The girl's real pretty.'
But today... for some reason, there was something different about her.
Maybe it's the hair.
Ever since he had known her, he had only ever seen her long brown hair bound in those intricate braids that must have taken at least an hour to arrange. But today, she had left it loose, the soft waves spilling freely around her shoulders, and somehow the simple change made her look both familiar and entirely new.
Or perhaps it's the dress.
Instead of those complicated frilly gowns she usually wore, which made her look like a noble princess only to be admired from afar.
Today she wore a... well, he didn't exactly know what to call it, but it looked like a cream-coloured slim skirt that seemed plain but perfectly highlighted her figure, and did wonderful things to her...
Or is it just the sweet smile?
'Wait! Am I actually crushing on her?'
"It seems the effort I spent getting ready was not wasted, after all," an amused voice broke him out of his trance, and Jon flushed as he realised that he had actually fallen into a stupor like an idiot.
'Damn it! How could I lose my composure like this? I am not even a virgin anymore.'
The boy had always looked down on those cheesy youngsters who lost their senses after seeing a pretty girl and acted as if they were the centre of their universe, but who would have thought that there would come a day when he too would go through this?
It was a very bittersweet feeling.
Phew! Come on, take a deep breath. Just imagine her as a saggy Old Nan, and it will all be fine.
It took him a while to work through all those thoughts, but in reality, only a few seconds had passed, and outwardly his reply was almost instantaneous.
"You do look especially radiant today, my lady." Jon quickly gathered his wits, his smooth composure returning as if he hadn't just been staring at her like a fool. "Forgive me for my unmannerly display."
"You are forgiven." Margaery smiled generously, but the mischievousness in her eyes told him that she was perfectly aware of the effect she was having on him.
"Shall we?" Jon cleared his throat as he turned away from her warm brown eyes, while raising his arm in invitation.
"Sure." Margarey nodded as she daintily placed her palm in his elbow, and they set off from the mansion with four armoured Tyrell guards trailing in their shadows. "Where are we going today?"
The question made it sound as though they had been on countless dates before, when in reality, this was only their second outing. Their first had been the day after Jon's arrival in the capital, when they had merely taken the opportunity to reacquaint themselves after their long separation.
And while they had met many a time after that during the Tourney, those were short, glancing exchanges, so it was only now that they were having their first real 'date'.
Nothing explicit had been said yet, but Jon knew that Olenna had somehow deduced his parentage and had the intention of binding her family to him as long as he had the ambition for the highest prize.
And since it had always been in his plans to get the backing of a powerful family before the mid-game began. All the pieces clicked together wonderfully.
Besides, it's Margaery Tyrell we are talking about here, so how could he even think of saying no...
"First we have breakfast at a place called Seven Seas Feast. And then we head towards a shop called Seven Seas Dresses to browse their latest collection, and then..."
"This Seven Seas... I think I have heard of them," Margaery murmured with a hand on her chin. "Is that a series of stores with goods from all over the world, especially Essos? I hear they are all terribly crowded at all times of the day, and that even Nobles would be made to wait for hours before they can get inside."
"That's the one." Jon nodded as they entered the main street, and their pace slowed down amidst the surging crowd.
They had decided to forgo the carriage today, as not only would it deprive them of a perfectly cool summer day, it would also waste a lot of time they would waste being stuck in the middle of the masses. "And don't worry about the holdup. The owner is a friend, so he will give us priority." Jon shrugged with a grin.
There was a hint of pride in his voice that did not escape Margaery. But why? Is it really such a big deal? She studied him for a few moments, trying to figure him out.
"What? Is there something on my face?" Jon rubbed his cheek, wondering if orange juice from the morning had left its mark.
"You are the owner of Seven Seas, aren't you?" Margaery asked intuitively with a raised eyebrow.
"Huh? How did—I mean, why would you say that?" Jon hurriedly averted his eyes. "I only heard about them after arriving here."
"Is that so?" Margaery smiled, clearly amused by his rather poor attempt at lying.
'Damn it! Why is she so sharp?' Jon cursed at the knowing look in the girl's eyes. He had been hoping to impress her by taking her there, but now that she believed him to be the owner, it would surely lose half the effect.
They continued at a very leisurely pace after that, in no hurry to reach their destination, talking about this and that— his family, her family, life in the North, life in Highgarden, all the places he had visited, the places she adored near her home.
Around them, the four Tyrell knights vigilantly kept the flowing crowd at a distance, and since they were still in the posh part of the city where mostly the rich and the nobles lived and shopped, it was not as congested as the main markets were, so it was easily manageable.
Every now and then, they would stop at a stall or shop whenever Margaery spotted something strange or unfamiliar that caught her interest, and then she would invariably try to haggle the price down with all her might.
With 'try' being the keyword here, as no matter how hard she tried to cut the price, she would still end up being fleeced by the cunning shopkeepers.
For example:
"Is this truly from Myr?" Margaery closely scrutinised a delicate petal-shaped silver necklace in her hand, as if trying to discern its origin simply from its appearance.
"Of course, My Lady. You can trust me on this." The fat merchant, owner of the jewellery shop, thumped on his chest. "They have the finest craftsmen in all of Essos working there, and this is a unique, one-of-a-kind piece of a Master who has worked his whole life trying to perfect his craft. You will not find another piece like this anywhere else in the city, I assure you."
"How does it look?" Margaery blinked towards Jon as she held the pendant around her slender neck to show it off.
"Very good." Jon coughed as he hurriedly glanced away after a single peek, very much afraid that he wouldn't be able to stop his gaze from wandering.
"Perfect, then." She beamed as she turned back towards the merchant. "But ten dragons is a little too much for this, isn't it? Five dragons seems much more proper, right?" she asked with a pitiful expression on her face, as if she were a poor young girl with no money in her pockets.
"I..." The Merchant had a pained look on his face, as if she were asking him to hand over all his fortune, but then suddenly he deflated and waved his hands, "Fine, Miss, I agree. Who told you to be my first customer of the day?" he shook his head with a sigh, "I can't very well let you leave empty-handed, can I? I'll just oblige to please the gods of wealth, and take this loss from—"
"Seriously! You are asking 5 dragons for this and acting as if you are doing us a favour?!" Jon finally couldn't watch the performance any longer and intervened before the sale could complete. "Have a little decency, won't you? There are limits to ripping someone off."
"H-How can you say that, Lord Jon? This is truly a unique piece. A one-of-a-kind! And it's arrived here all the way from Myr. Merely the transportation cost would be astronomical for this, not to mention the master craftsmanship involved. You should know how dangerous are. I am asking for a very fair price here." The Merchant seemed to have perfected his art, and anyone looking at his tragic expression wouldn't doubt that he was being wronged.
He had recognised him, of course; in fact, few people on the street wouldn't know who Jon Snow was by now, what with the Tourney being at its height, with the finals scheduled to be tomorrow.
But he wouldn't back down just because of who was in front of him; after all, there was little chance that someone as rich and noble as him would threaten him for merely a few dragons, so he wasn't the least bit scared.
"Leave the theatrics for someone else." Jon rolled his eyes with an exasperated look. "First of all, this is not from Myr, but from Braavos."
"No, how can—"
"Don't even try. I know this mark," he said, pointing towards a small, subtle star in the corner at the back. "This is the personal insignia of Larrio's shop in Ragman's harbour. I am very familiar with that bastard." he suddenly leaned down to whisper, "And I can assure you that 'he' is definitely not the finest craftsman in Essos. I would even go as far as to call him a shady jeweller who was the best at making cheap knockoffs. And as for this being unique?" He straightened. "If this is truly the only piece you have in your shop, I'll pay you a hundred dragons for it right now."
"I-I..." The Merchant was sweating now — every word Jon said was true. He had nearly a dozen more pieces stashed under the counter, meant for exactly this: out-of-city nobles passing through for the Tourney, gone home before they ever thought to come back and check. He just hadn't expected to run into someone who actually knew the trade. "My lord, I—"
"I will not argue with you any further," Jon interrupted with a wave of his hand. "We will give you one gold dragon for this, and Lady Tyrell here will choose an additional two more pieces from your shop. Deal?"
"Deal." The Merchant agreed hastily as he wiped his forehead, wanting nothing more than for this adversary to leave his shop.
"Then. I want this one and that one." Margaery immediately chose with a cheerful look, as if she had been waiting for this.
///