> [What do you mean, "interest"? Are you telling me that after saving a highborn beauty like Margaery Tyrell from such horrors, all you can ask for is some petty trade concession?]
> [Take my advice. A true man never hesitates. Conquer her body, and her heart will follow. Forget the Shield Islands fleet as a dowry; play your cards right, and Highgarden itself could be your backyard...]
Jon waved his hand irritably, trying to dismiss the System's voice as nothing more than the barking of a mad dog.
But today, the System was unusually persistent. It refused to be silenced, doubling down on its analysis with twisted logic.
> [Stop pretending to be noble. While marrying a woman with a younger brother is a fool's errand, one with older brothers is fair game. Especially when Margaery's brothers are... flawed.]
> [Willas is a cripple. Loras is a sword-swallower. If you secure Margaery, the path is clear. A few "unfortunate accidents" on the battlefield or in the bedchamber, and the entire Reach belongs to you or your children. So, I ask you: Do you want your pride, or do you want power?]
As if sensing its argument wasn't persuasive enough, the System's voice dropped to a demonic whisper.
> [Besides, don't think I don't know your little secret. That rose has thorns. She was born to be a Queen. If you can't satisfy that ambition, she'll look down on you. But give her a crown? A true man would...]
The buzzing in his ear grew louder, but Jon stopped fighting it. He knew the drill: resist the System too hard, and it would retaliate with some catastrophic "penalty."
It was better to play along—or at least, appear to. He was no longer a puppet on strings; he could manipulate the System's mechanics to seek his own rewards.
And honestly, he couldn't deny the System's logic.
From any angle, Margaery Tyrell was the ideal Queen. She was beautiful, intelligent, and backed by the immense wealth and influence of Highgarden. Her family's hold on power was tenuous, dependent on heirs who were easily removed.
House Tyrell was notorious for swaying with the wind. Rather than letting them be used by the Lannisters or Baratheons, why not secure that advantage for himself?
Letting such a prize slip away would certainly violate the "Greed" requirement of his Tycoon of Westeros quest.
Better to strike now and claim the rewards than wait for the System to force his hand with a penalty.
Having made up his mind, Jon turned his thoughts to another puzzle: Why did Qyburn kidnap Sansa and Margaery?
To find the answer, he dismissed his attendants and summoned the man who now called him "Master."
Listening to the mad scientist's explanation, Jon realized that Qyburn was indeed insane—but his insanity had a terrifying logic to it.
The kidnapping wasn't random. The targets had been carefully selected.
Margaery Tyrell was taken purely for ransom. Qyburn needed gold—lots of it—to fund his expensive alchemy experiments.
But Sansa Stark was the true prize. Qyburn wanted her for her blood—specifically, the Blood of the First Men and the connection to the direwolves.
As he spoke, Qyburn licked his lips, savoring the memory of his theory.
The madman believed that magic had never truly vanished from the world; the bloodlines capable of wielding it had simply grown too thin.
After scouring ancient texts, he had decided to conduct "sampling experiments." Sansa was simply the most accessible high-value specimen.
Jon felt a flicker of suspicion. Why her and not me?
Then he realized the grim pragmatism. Kidnapping a teenage girl was infinitely easier than capturing a trained swordsman surrounded by guards. Plus, to Qyburn, Jon was just a "bastard"—his blood likely considered diluted and worthless for research.
Jon didn't voice his thoughts, but deep down, he understood.
To a man like Qyburn, discovering the fundamental truths of the universe was worth any price, any morality. This obsession explained his necromancy, his "dark arts," and his expulsion from the Citadel.
It also explained his sudden, fanatical loyalty to Jon.
When Qyburn saw Jon walk through Wildfire unscathed, he didn't just see a powerful lord. He saw living proof. He saw the impossible made flesh.
Jon realized with a jolt: He's not just serving me. He's studying me.
To Qyburn, Jon was the ultimate lab rat—a walking, breathing anomaly that defied the natural laws of this mundane world.
In a world where magic was a dying ember—where White Walkers were myths, Red Priests were charlatans to most, and Dragons were extinct—Jon was a singularity.
If the unknown cannot be measured, its power is immeasurable.
To the blasphemer Qyburn, Jon was the key to breaking the shackles of mortal limitation.
Jon didn't know what secrets were locked away in the Citadel's Hightower, or why the Maesters of Westeros seemed so intent on suppressing magic while serving the lords. That was a mystery for another day.
But one thing was certain: Qyburn was a unique monster. Even if you cut open his chest, you wouldn't find a heart—you'd find a void of pure curiosity.
Pushing aside the philosophical dread, Jon focused on the practical. He asked about Qyburn's current research.