Bab 481: Chapter 482: The Blessing of the Seven
Gentle and warm sunlight bathed King's Landing, bringing a hint of warmth to the city now entering winter.
At dawn, the square in front of the Great Sept of Baelor was decorated with colorful banners, and flags bearing the blue double-headed eagle fluttered in the wind.
The City Watch surrounded Visenya's Hill, sealing all entrances and exits. Neither carriages nor pedestrians were allowed through.
Still, the streets on either side were packed with spectators eager to witness the grand occasion. Smiling with joy, the citizens of King's Landing stood on tiptoe, craning their necks toward the Red Keep, awaiting the arrival of the king's carriage.
In the Red Keep, Samwell played with his son in his arms while watching his two queens being dressed with the help of their maids.
The newly hatched red dragon, Dawnfire, flitted about, its wings fluttering as it flew around the room.
Danerys had initially wanted to name the dragon after one of the Valyrian gods, in keeping with Targaryen tradition, but Samwell had vetoed the idea.
He had little affection for gods, so he chose the name Dawnfire instead.
The name reflected the dragon's brilliant crimson scales and its birth at the onset of winter. Samwell hoped it would serve as a radiant sun to drive away the cold and the Long Night.
Thus, the name was set.
"The people of King's Landing seem quite enthusiastic about today's ceremony," said Margaery, already dressed, as she walked to the window and looked outside.
"The influence of the Faith among the people is still considerable," Danerys replied as her maids carefully helped her dress. Her pregnancy made her movements slow, and the maids worked cautiously, taking their time.
Margaery stepped forward to assist, fastening a string of luminous pearls around Dany's neck.
"I've heard that dozens of knights have already volunteered to join the Warrior's Sons, and the Poor Fellows' ranks have swelled to nearly a thousand in just one night," she said.
"So quickly!" Dany's eyes widened. "Sam only announced the Faith Militant's reinstatement yesterday!"
"Indeed," Margaery replied, turning to her husband, who remained unbothered. She couldn't help but speak up. "Sam, aren't you worried at all?"
Samwell smiled lightly.
"Why should I worry? Winter has come, and terrible forces are rising in the North. We'll need the Faith Militant to fight, won't we?"
"But we can't forget the lessons of Maegor the Cruel," Dany reminded him.
"I haven't forgotten," Samwell said as he rose. He kissed both queens on the cheek. "Are we ready? If so, let's go."
Margaery, seeing her husband's calm demeanor, chose to hold her tongue.
Danerys, however, took his arm and continued murmuring in his ear as they walked.
"Even if we need the Faith's influence to combat the northern threat, we can't let the Faith Militant grow unchecked. Sam, why don't you issue an edict limiting their numbers?"
"That won't be necessary," Samwell said as he escorted the queens out of Maegor's Holdfast. "This is a military force independent of the noble system. That's not entirely a bad thing. As for the High Sparrow... he can't control them."
Danerys glanced at her husband thoughtfully, seeming to grasp his intent.
Margaery suddenly said, "I heard that Ser Chiman TigerFang, one of the first knights to follow you, has joined the Warrior's Sons."
Samwell burst into laughter.
"Who knew he was so devout?"
With light conversation, the trio exited Maegor's Holdfast.
Samwell helped the two queens into the royal litter before joining them himself.
At 9 a.m., the royal procession, flanked by the Kingsguard, passed through the bronze gates of the Red Keep and began its slow ascent up Visenya's Hill.
The crowd erupted into cheers, a wave of jubilation spreading from the Red Keep to the Great Sept of Baelor and throughout King's Landing.
"I wonder if, three hundred years ago, Aegon the Conqueror and his two queens were greeted with the same fanfare," Dany mused as she waved to the crowd from the king's left side, her tone wistful.
"Three hundred years ago, King's Landing was just a small fishing village," Samwell said with a chuckle.
He glanced upward, where three dragons—white, black, and green—circled in the sky, their shadows enveloping the procession.
The crowd's cheers grew even louder.
Margaery noticed the red dragon cradled in her son's arms. It seemed eager to join the larger dragons in the sky but was too small to fly that high. Frustrated, it let out a series of high-pitched cries.
"What about Viserion?" she asked, referring to the golden dragon rescued from Euron Greyjoy. "Isn't it healed yet?"
"Not yet," Danerys replied with a sigh. "The wounds have closed, but it's still weak and unable to fly. Several maesters have examined it, but none can determine the cause."
"It will recover," Margaery assured her.
The procession slowly wound through the streets and climbed Visenya's Hill. The Great Sept of Baelor's dome gleamed under the sunlight.
The royal litter stopped before the sept's marble steps.
The seven white-clad Kingsguard knights, carrying ceremonial spears, flanked the king and queens as they walked up a golden carpet.
Inside the Hall of Prayer, nobles from across the Seven Kingdoms had already assembled. As the royal couple entered, all heads turned to them, their gazes filled with reverence.
The atmosphere was solemn and imposing.
The statues of the Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Crone, Maiden, and Stranger loomed over the hall as if bearing witness to the arrival of the new king.
Sunlight streamed through the crystal skylight above, forming a pure, radiant beam that illuminated the king and High Septon standing in the center.
The sunlight cast a faint golden halo around Samwell, making him appear almost divine.
The High Septon, dressed in his simple, patchwork robes, wore no crown. His appearance was as humble as that of a common farmer. Yet, to the fanatically devout, his plain attire was far more sacred than gold and jewels.
"Samwell Caesar," the High Septon proclaimed, his voice resonating throughout the hall. "Under the sacred gaze of the Seven, I shall bless you with the holy oils."
He dipped his fingers into a glass vial, anointing Samwell's forehead as he intoned:
"May the Father grant you justice!"
Dipping his fingers into a second vial, he continued:
"May the Mother grant you mercy!"
A third vial:
"May the Warrior grant you courage!"
"May the Smith grant you strength!"
"May the Crone grant you wisdom!"
"May the Maiden grant you purity!"
"May the Stranger carry away your enemies!"
The High Septon's voice rose in final proclamation:
"In the name of the Seven, I crown you King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Protector of the Realm!"
At the High Septon's words, Samwell's eyes snapped upward, his piercing gaze locking onto the man before him like a blade.
(End of Chapter)
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone