Chapitre 260: Chapter 261: Reunion
Stormlands, Bronze Gate Castle
Cleopatra descended gracefully onto the castle balcony, her heated breath wilting the ivy clinging to the stone walls.
Two Reach guards rushed over to investigate the commotion but quickly bowed when they saw the white dragon.
"Is my father here?" Samwell dismounted, smoothing his wind-tossed hair.
"Lord Randyll is in the main hall on the first floor," one of the guards answered.
"Thank you," Samwell said, nodding before making his way down the spiral staircase to the hall below.
Lord Randyll Tarly was immersed in managing military matters. When Samwell entered, his father gave only a brief nod of acknowledgment before returning his attention to the reports of his officers.
Samwell found a seat, poured himself a glass of wine, and sipped quietly.
The matters being discussed were mundane—lost warhorses, soldiers caught pilfering hams, and illnesses caused by unsanitary camp conditions. The dull monotony of logistics and discipline reminded Samwell of the reality of warfare. Strategy and battle were fleeting moments of glory; the bulk of war involved tedious preparation.
By the time Samwell had finished three glasses of wine, Randyll Tarly had concluded his work. He dismissed the officers with a wave of his hand before pouring himself a drink and approaching his son.
"The loss of Highgarden was unfortunate, but you shouldn't dwell on it," Randyll said, his tone even. "Storm's End is still there; we'll have another chance."
"I've already taken Storm's End," Samwell replied, smiling slyly as he watched his father's reaction.
Randyll's face remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed his surprise.
"That was quick. How did you manage it?"
"It was mostly thanks to Dickon…" Samwell began recounting the details of the siege.
Randyll listened in silence, his expression unreadable.
"I didn't expect Dickon to act so rashly," Samwell concluded with a sigh. "But at least it worked out."
"He was indeed reckless," Randyll said, his tone conflicted.
After a moment's pause, he hesitated before asking, "Sam, have you noticed that your brother isn't quite the same as he used to be?"
"He's changed a lot," Samwell admitted, unsure of how to explain the truth. Should he tell his father that Dickon had been resurrected and was now a pawn of the Lord of Light?
"I questioned the knights and soldiers who accompanied Dickon to Dorne," Randyll continued, taking a small sip of his wine. "They all said he lay in his coffin for five days before suddenly waking up."
Samwell was about to respond when his father fixed him with an intense gaze.
"And you. They said you were found in the ruins of the sept at Skyreach. The fire consumed everything, yet you emerged without a single burn. Tell me, Samwell, did you die and return as well?"
Samwell opened his mouth to deny it but faltered. He couldn't truthfully refute the claim. After all, the Samwell Tarly standing here wasn't the same person who had been born to Randyll Tarly.
The original Samwell Tarly had died three years ago.
Seeing his son's hesitation, Randyll seemed to draw his own conclusions. He suddenly changed the subject.
"Do you remember who the ancestors of House Tarly were?"
Caught off guard by the abrupt shift, Samwell nodded.
"Yes, the twins Harlen the Hunter and Halden the Horn from the line of Garth Greenhand."
"Indeed." Randyll's eyes grew distant, his tone contemplative. "The legend says they married a forest witch and lived unnaturally long lives in Horn Hill. Do you know how they extended their years?"
Samwell thought back to the old tales. "The story says they would join with the forest witch under the full moon to renew their vitality…"
He trailed off, suddenly understanding his father's implication.
Randyll believed Samwell and Dickon had inherited their ancestors' "tradition" of sharing a sorceress—Melisandre in this case—and gained resurrection through her powers.
From Randyll's perspective, it was the most logical explanation.
The timing aligned too well. Both brothers had "returned from the dead" after Melisandre's arrival. If Randyll were to see her now, heavily pregnant, it would only reinforce his theory.
Samwell tried to object. "Father, it's not what you think—"
"Enough," Randyll interrupted, raising a hand. He gave his son a knowing look. "If that woman gives you power, I won't interfere. Just don't get any foolish ideas about marrying her."
"Of course not," Samwell muttered, deciding not to push the issue. Any further explanation would only make matters worse.
As for Dickon's entanglement with the Lord of Light, that was something Samwell would have to deal with himself. His father wouldn't be of much help there.
"Have you taken Haystack Hall yet?" Randyll asked, shifting the conversation.
"Yes, the Clanton family offered little resistance," Samwell replied. "I left Todd Flowers to hold it. What about your campaign?"
"We captured Hayfort but were preparing to advance on Harvest Hall when we received orders to retreat. That's why I returned to Bronze gate."
"Hayfort belongs to House Errol, doesn't it? Who did you leave there?"
"Garth Hightower," Randyll answered, referring to the second son of the Lord of Oldtown. A steady and capable knight, his appointment was unsurprising.
"How soon will your troops arrive?" Randyll asked.
"I'd estimate four or five days," Samwell replied. He had flown ahead on Cleopatra, leaving his army in the care of Chiman.
Randyll nodded thoughtfully. "We won't wait. I'll lead the main force back to the Reach tomorrow morning. You should fly ahead to Bitterbridge and meet with Lady Olenna. Find out what's happened there."
"Understood," Samwell agreed. He, too, was eager to uncover the state of the Reach.
---
Samwell spent the night resting at Coppergate, allowing Cleopatra to recover from the long flight.
The next morning, they set off westward, stopping once near King's Landing and again at Greenstone to rest and resupply. By the third evening, they reached Bitterbridge.
The setting sun bathed the Mander River in golden light, drawing young couples to its banks to enjoy the autumn evening. Cleopatra's arrival caused a small stir, but Samwell quickly settled the dragon before entering the castle.
"Lord Caesar, welcome to Bitterbridge," said Lorent Caswell, the baron of the castle, greeting Samwell with enthusiasm.
"Lord Lorent," Samwell replied politely. "Is Lady Margaery here?"
"Your betrothed is praying in the sept. Allow me to take you to her."
"Thank you."
As they walked through the castle, Samwell noticed the unusually tight security. Guards in full armor stood watch at regular intervals, their shields and spears ready. The tension in the air was palpable.
When they reached the sept, Lord Lorent excused himself. Samwell pushed open the heavy oak doors.
The warm scent of beeswax candles filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of prayers.
The sound ceased when the door creaked open.
"Sam?" Margaery Tyrell's voice broke the silence, filled with surprise and joy.
She was kneeling before the statue of the Mother, clad in a deep green silk gown and a deerskin shawl. Two young women—likely Lord Lorent's daughters—knelt beside her.
"Three lovely ladies—I hope I'm not interrupting," Samwell said with a smile.
"Of course not," Margaery replied, rising to greet him. Despite her smile, her eyes couldn't hide her worry.
Lord Lorent's daughters curtsied politely and excused themselves, leaving the sept to the reunited couple.
The moment the doors closed, Margaery ran into Samwell's arms.
"Don't be afraid. Don't worry," Samwell murmured, stroking her back. "I'm here now. Tell me what happened at Highgarden. I'll help the Tyrells reclaim it…"
As he spoke, he felt her trembling, and his hands froze when they reached her rounded belly.
He stepped back, holding her shoulders.
"You're… pregnant?"
Tears streamed down Margaery's face, a mixture of sorrow and joy shining in her doe-like eyes.
"Yes, Sam," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm carrying your child."
(End of Chapter)
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone