Game of Thrones: The Red Dragon Lord

Her eyes revealed an unconcealable joy, her expectant gaze fixed on Gavin once again. Then, with a slight hint of coquettishness, she asked:

"Gavin, you just said there are many ways? Can you tell me in detail?"

Margaret's tone made Gavin's cheeks flush instantly. He hurriedly smiled, trying to hide the embarrassment that surged within him at that moment, and said:

"There are indeed many ways. For example, the Tyrell family could ban all gambling games except the most prominent ones, supervise and collect all bets. This way, the income can be clearly tracked, and gambling taxes can be collected appropriately. If gamblers know the Tyrell family oversees and guarantees the safety of their money, they'll feel reassured when placing bets. Additionally, this could solve the recurring public security issues caused by fraudulent games and people running off with the money."

Seeing how easily Gavin proposed such a solution, Margaret blinked in surprise, slowly recovering from her shock. Recalling her earlier tone, which had been perhaps too eager and playful, and looking at Gavin's handsome face now, she couldn't help but feel her cheeks turn pink.

But as she thought it over, Margaret smiled to herself. If acting a little coquettish could win her such valuable advice, then why not? Resolutely, she employed the same trick once again.

The two continued talking for a long time until a maid ran up breathlessly, clearly searching for her.

"Miss, why are you here? You need to return to the banquet! The cake is ready, and Lord Mace is looking for you."

Margaret turned toward the maid but said nothing. Instead, she stood gracefully, turned to Gavin with a bow, and smiled warmly:

"Gavin, come with me. Let me cut you a piece of cake to thank you for your advice."

Gavin immediately stood and returned the greeting with a respectful nod.

"Then I'll trouble you, Margaret."

When they returned to the grand hall, a 13-layer cake stood proudly in the center of the room, already drawing everyone's attention.

Duke Mace Tyrell, seeing his daughter approach, waved to her affectionately.

"Come, Margaret, it's your turn to cut the cake."

Margaret stepped forward, bowed respectfully to her father, and took the ornate knife offered by a servant. She carefully cut the first slice, and the waiters quickly began dividing the cake into smaller portions for the guests.

Moments later, Duke Mace led Margaret onto the high platform. Raising his glass, he announced cheerfully:

"To celebrate my daughter's thirteenth name day!"

He downed his wine in one gulp, and the hall erupted into applause and cheers.

Suddenly, Margaret turned to her father, bowed deeply, and said in a calm yet clear voice:

"Father, I would like to ask for a gift."

The hall instantly fell silent, all eyes turning toward the high platform in curiosity.

Duke Mace raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"My daughter, what would you like?"

Margaret's eyes swept across the room before turning back to her father with quiet determination.

"Father, I would like a guardian knight."

At her words, the crowd burst into murmurs of excitement. Duke Mace chuckled, looking out at the many young men in attendance.

"Is there any noble lad willing to be my daughter's guardian knight?"

The hall exploded into activity as countless young men eagerly volunteered, each hoping to win Margaret's favor.

However, Margaret raised her hand, silencing the room. Bowing politely to the crowd, she turned back to her father and asked:

"Father, may I choose and confer the title myself?"

Duke Mace's face lit up with a knowing smile.

"Of course, my daughter. It seems you already have someone in mind."

Drawing the sword from his waist, he handed it to her with pride.

"Use my sword to confer the honor."

Margaret accepted the sword with both hands and stepped forward. Every eye in the hall followed her intently. Gavin, however, realized something as he noticed Margaret's gaze locked firmly on him.

His heart quickened, and anticipation built within him.

Sure enough, Margaret's next words confirmed his guess:

"Gavin Flowers, please come forward."

The hall fell silent once again. Gavin walked forward without hesitation, meeting Margaret at the center of the platform.

Facing him, Margaret spoke with solemn seriousness:

"Gavin, you may now choose a new surname for yourself."

Without a second thought, Gavin responded firmly:

"Belleris."

He had chosen to honor his mother's surname.

Margaret smiled approvingly.

"Please kneel."

Gavin knelt on one knee, bowing his head as Margaret carefully lifted the long sword. With effort, she touched it lightly to his shoulders.

Her voice rang out, clear and formal:

"I, Margaret Tyrell, in the name of the daughter of Duke Mace Tyrell, appoint Gavin Belleris as my guardian knight.

In the name of the Warrior, I ask you to be brave.

In the name of the Father, I ask you to be fair.

In the name of the Maiden, I ask you to protect the weak."

Margaret lowered the sword and stepped back.

"Rise, Gavin Belleris, Knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

Gavin stood, meeting Margaret's gaze with a steady smile.

In Westeros, knights occupied a quasi-noble status, though their standing varied. Property knights, for instance, enjoyed land and tax income. Paid knights served under their lords and were supported by their fealty. Finally, there were honorary knights—sworn to protect others without special oaths.

Gavin's position as guardian knight was unique. As Margaret's appointed protector, his role symbolized loyalty without binding vows. Should Margaret marry, his duty would transfer to her husband, and Gavin would be free once more.

Still, his title was recognized by Westerosi law. Civilians would address him as "Ser Gavin", and he now held rights to raise a following, command soldiers, and even request a development order.

After the ceremony, Gavin and Margaret strolled back into the courtyard, plates of cake in hand.

Gavin looked at Margaret and spoke earnestly:

"Thank you, Miss Margaret."

She turned to him with a teasing smile.

"You're welcome, Ser Gavin."

They both laughed softly.

Walking to the same tree where they had first spoken, Margaret asked quietly:

"Gavin, what are your future plans? Do you want to stay here in Highgarden?"

Gavin hesitated, thinking carefully. Finally, he replied:

"I plan to travel to the continent of Essos."

Margaret's smile faltered for just a moment. She hesitated but then said softly, her voice laced with gentle sadness:

"Gavin… then I wish you all the best."

The two sat together under the tree in silence, the moonlight bathing them as the evening breeze carried away unspoken words.