Margaery gave a small, almost childish nod. She didn't want to risk the rumors that her child was Euron Greyjoy's. Her child would be Hannibal's. Her child would be Bolton. Her child would be descended of Targaryen blood. She nuzzled him as she leaned down and kissed him again. "Shall we dry off? And...I would like it if we could take dinner in our chambers. Might that be possible?"