After the war council ended, the two commanders warmly invited William to join them for dinner.
But William smiled calmly and declined with practiced grace. "Sers, you both know Lady Margaery has been waiting for some time. Now that the council is over, it would be rude of me to delay any longer. Once I've visited Ser Garlan, I'll be sure to intrude on you properly."
A few knights chuckled good-naturedly. Aegon and Ser Osmon exchanged a glance—there was something complicated in their eyes—but in the end, they nodded and let him go. William offered a courteous farewell to the assembled knights and took his leave with unhurried steps.
Inside Garlan's tent, a few candles flickered gently, keeping the space from feeling gloomy. Margaery sat by her brother's bedside, speaking softly with a few girls. The servant meant to be watching over Garlan had seemingly wandered off.
When they noticed William entering, the girls quieted, offered polite smiles and curtsies, then excused themselves with grace.
William gave them a look of thanks as they left. Then he stepped to the bedside and met Margaery's gaze. She didn't stand. Instead, she turned her head away, eyes falling on her brother.
William followed her gaze, watching the sleeping Garlan for a moment. A thought struck him. "When Garlan went to find me… why didn't anyone try to stop him?"
Margaery shot him a look. "Do you think we didn't? Of course we tried to stop him." She sighed. "But he said, if a knight from the Riverlands was willing to risk everything to protect the people of the Reach while he, a knight of Highgarden, did nothing—then he would have no honor left to speak of."
Her voice softened, remembering. "His exact words were: 'If Ser William Harroway must die here today, then let the blood of Highgarden's knights flow with him. And if that must be so, then let it begin with me.'"
Margaery fell quiet, her eyes misting over.
William tried to lighten the mood. "Oh? And here I thought he did it because we were such good friends."
Margaery scoffed and shot him a glare. "Hmph. I'd rather he'd never even met you."
William looked down at Garlan's handsome face, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "Honestly, I didn't want to meet him either. Do you have any idea how painful it is to stand next to him?"
Margaery raised a brow. "Painful?"
"He's too good-looking. He steals all the girls' attention."
That made Margaery laugh. "Loras is even more handsome than Garlan." Then her expression suddenly sharpened, voice tinged with warning. "Do you care that much about how girls look at you?"
"Ahem. No, not at all." William quickly turned his eyes to Garlan, pretending to study him thoughtfully. "We need to heal him soon."
Margaery hummed. "Oh? Now you're in a hurry? Just now, you were all calm and composed."
"Ser Osmon said Maester Lomis is on his way. He should arrive shortly."
"Good. If your magic doesn't work, at least Garlan will still have Maester Lomis. He's served House Tyrell for years—far more reliable than some random so-called mage."
William chuckled. "And if the maester examines Garlan first, then we heal him after? He'll just assume the injuries weren't serious. No one will suspect magic. Besides, I'm already a 'mage-knight'—I wouldn't mind having a 'mage-princess' by my side."
Margaery stood and walked a few steps away. Her back to him, she paused, clearly hesitating. Then she spoke, voice quiet but firm. "This will be the last time I ever touch magic. I'm only doing this… for Garlan."
William moved to the opposite side of the bed, raising his hands—palms up, the backs facing Garlan's chest. "Then let's do it before Maester Lomis arrives. Trust me, Margaery," he said with a smile. "Come on, baby."
She turned around slowly, face unreadable. Her steps were slow, deliberate, as if each one took effort. When she reached the bed, she looked into William's eyes with a blank expression—then, at last, reached out and placed her hands into his.
As his smile deepened, Margaery felt her heart waver for a brief moment.
She knew it had begun.
This time, she was mentally prepared. She let herself feel everything—no longer resisting. It was as if she became a star drifting through the night sky, alone and silent in the vast void, until she found a warm light. That light melted the frost on her shell, erased the wear of the journey, and in that unspoken trust, she felt a subtle, invisible bond forming—something that reached deep into her soul and connected them at the core.
He felt the same as last time—untouched by the chaos of battle, serene and steady. It brought her an unexpected sense of relief.
William sensed her presence in his mental world and began to chant a spell—one that, on its own, wouldn't trigger any magic. But just as he expected, within Margaery's spiritual resonance, the incantation transformed into life energy.
Still, he didn't immediately cast the healing.
Margaery felt the magic stirring from within him—a warm current rising from the depths of her soul, like sunlight threading through her heart. It carried a soothing fragrance and the rhythm of life itself. She basked in it, her mind calm and her senses unmoored, as if she could stay like this forever.
She didn't know how much time passed. Then she felt his hands guiding hers downward, pressing them to Garlan's chest. The energy, under William's control, flowed into Garlan's body.
In that moment, she could almost see the wounds across Garlan's body—see them knit shut under the nourishment of magic, like fresh sprouts unfurling joyfully after a spring rain.
William let go. The shared vision faded.
After a few moments, Margaery blinked, as if snapping out of a trance.
"That's… it?"
William nodded. "Healing magic isn't the kind that instantly erases injuries. There's a spell that rewinds time to before the injury ever happened—another that transfers the damage to another living being. That last one's a little sinister. But those can work in a flash. What I used was just a life energy enhancement spell. It speeds up natural healing and helps resist infection."
He never missed a chance to lecture her about magic.
"Whose life energy does it consume? Yours or mine?" Margaery asked, not hiding her disinterest in magic theory.
"Life energy? No, no." William laughed. "Magic doesn't consume life force. It uses mana, which is like the air around us—everywhere, endless. We're not Red Priests burning people as sacrifices to fuel their spells, and even when they do, it's not like the spell always works! Half the time it fails anyway."
Thinking of Melisandre's long list of magical mishaps, William couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head.
"And using mana has no cost?" Margaery's face was still serious.
William folded his arms, tilted his head. "Cost? What cost? We breathe air, we soak in sunlight—what's the cost of that?"
"Is there anything in this world," she said quietly, "that only gives without ever taking?"
"…That sounds like something Garth the Greenhand would carve into a tree." William scratched his head, uneasily. "But I've been using magic for years now. I've never noticed any side effects."
Despite believing magic was a gift from whatever brought him to this world, William had always been cautious. During meditation, he often examined his soul deeply. So far, he'd found nothing wrong.
But Margaery just shook her head.
"William," she said softly, "can you see the end of the thread of fate? You say there's no cost now… but you don't know when the price will come due."
She looked at him, sadness in her eyes.
"You don't know anything, William."