章 500: Chapter 501: Rhaenys
The crescent moon hung in the sky, sharp and thin as a blade.
Dense trees blocked the sunlight, and the dim air occasionally echoed with the cries of crows.
"...You are the heir of House Tarly, a descendant of forest hunters. How can you not know how to hunt?"
Samwell's vision slowly became clear, and he saw his father, Randyll Tarly, thrusting a bow into the hands of a chubby boy of about fourteen or fifteen.
The boy's face was filled with fear.
This expression of terror enraged Lord Randyll. He barked,
"Go! If you come back empty-handed before nightfall, you won't get any supper!"
Samwell watched his younger self turn around, face full of misery, and walk into the forest.
The dappled sunlight filtered through the gaps between leaves, and the shadow of his younger self seemed to dissolve into the morning mist.
So this is the "Green Sight"? Samwell mused.
Had he returned to seven years ago, before he had crossed into this world?
"Father…" Samwell tried to call out.
But his voice turned into the soft rustling of leaves, dispersing in the wind.
Randyll Tarly seemed to sense something. He abruptly looked up, staring for a long time at a massive weirwood deep in the forest.
But soon, his figure faded like smoke.
A tide of green surged forward, drowning Samwell's vision.
The sound of battle erupted as new scenes appeared.
Knights clad in steel armor clashed with wildlings in animal hides. Blood sprayed, and flesh was torn apart.
The images shifted rapidly. The battle scenes melted like snow, replaced by a ceremony of worship.
Hundreds of wildlings knelt before a weirwood, chanting prayers, beseeching the gods to grant them the power of vengeance.
The scene changed again. A small, dark-skinned wildling girl stood on tiptoe and kissed a tall, muscular Andal knight.
The images continued to evolve. Trees shrank into saplings and then vanished into the soil.
The sun rose and set; seasons passed.
Samwell realized this so-called "Green Sight" seemed to be the perspective of the weirwoods themselves.
No wonder the First Men carved faces into the weirwoods—not just as symbols of worship but also as windows, as eyes.
The "Three-Eyed Raven" with its "thousand-and-one eyes" likely referred not to spies like Varys' "little birds," but to the thousand-and-one weirwoods across Westeros.
At the moment, Samwell's vision was locked onto a weirwood in the forest near Last Hearth. But it revealed nothing he wanted to see. He had no idea how to switch perspectives or "inhabit" other weirwoods.
Frustrated, he withdrew his mental focus.
The swirling green mist surged and receded.
When he opened his eyes again, Samwell found himself back in the hall of the Eyrie.
Using Bran Stark's psychic resonance, he had just stolen a glimpse of the "Green Sight." However, it seemed he had only mastered a fragment of its capabilities.
Samwell didn't dwell on this. He rose and returned to his chambers.
---
The next morning, he and Bran mounted the white dragon and continued south.
By the time they reached King's Landing, the sky was pitch-black, and stars were scattered across the heavens.
The white dragon soared over the city, causing a stir below.
"The king has returned!"
"The Son of the Seven is back!"
Cheers spread like ripples across the city as the dragon flew.
When Samwell landed within the Red Keep, Ser Barristan Selmy, commander of the Kingsguard, was already waiting.
"Welcome back, Your Majesty."
Samwell gestured to Bran and Hodor behind him, instructing,
"This is Bran Stark and his servant Hodor. Arrange for their accommodations in the Red Keep."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Samwell strode towards Maegor's Holdfast and asked,
"How are Daenerys and the little princess?"
"The queen is well, and the princess is healthy," Barristan replied.
"Good." Samwell quickened his pace toward Daenerys' chambers.
The closer he got, the more excited he felt.
Knock-knock.
He rapped softly on the door but received no response.
"Your Majesty," Barristan whispered, "the queen and the princess have been retiring early these days."
Disappointed but understanding, Samwell nodded and decided to wait until the morning to see his daughter.
Just as he turned to leave, the door creaked open.
"Sam! You're back!"
A warm, soft body flew into his arms. Samwell caught her and found her lips, sharing a kiss.
"Sorry for missing our daughter's birth."
"It's fine." Daenerys smiled. "You're the king of the Seven Kingdoms. There are more pressing matters for you to handle. How is the Wall? Did the Others attack?"
"They came, but the Wall is holding. The wildlings have been allowed through, and the Others seem hesitant to launch a full-scale assault. Let's go inside—it's cold out here."
Samwell noticed she was wearing only a silver silk nightgown and quickly carried her into the room.
---
The warmth of the fireplace drove away the winter chill.
The amber-and-floral scent in the air was soothing.
"Where's the little one?" Samwell asked.
"She's sleeping in the next room," Daenerys replied, pulling him toward the nursery.
Samwell subconsciously held his breath and even slowed down his heartbeat, for fear of waking the little princess from her sleep.
She has the same black hair as Samwell, thick and curly eyelashes, sleeping soundly with her eyes closed. Her round little face is so cute that people can't help but want to pinch it.
"She's beautiful," Samwell murmured.
"More beautiful than me?" Daenerys teased, leaning her chin on his shoulder.
"Just as beautiful."
Unhappy with his answer, Daenerys pouted, turned him around, and demanded,
"Look again!"
Samwell chuckled. "You're still more beautiful."
Satisfied, Daenerys rewarded him with a kiss, and the room's atmosphere turned intimate.
---
By morning, Daenerys awoke alone. She stretched luxuriously before getting out of bed and finding Samwell kneeling silently by the baby's crib.
Leaning against the doorway, she felt a wave of warmth and love.
She walked over, knelt beside him, and whispered,
"Still asleep?"
"Yes," Samwell replied, kissing her hair. "She woke twice during the night."
Daenerys rested her head on his shoulder. "You haven't named her yet."
Samwell thought for a moment and said, "I'll leave it to you."
"Really?" She looked at him skeptically.
"Yes."
When his first son was born, Samwell named him Octavian, which actually meant that he was determined to make him his heir.
However, the people in this world obviously failed to understand the meaning of this name, and instead thought that the name was too weird.
Margaery once privately asked Samwell whether Octavian was the name of an ancestor of House Tarly.
With this lesson in mind, and not having any excessive demands on his daughter except hoping that she could grow up healthy and happy, Samwell simply gave the naming rights to his wife this time.
After a moment of thought, Daenerys said,
"Let's name her Rhaenys."
Rhaenys was a fairly common name among the Targaryens.
Rhaegar Targaryen's daughter—Daenerys' niece—bore this name, though she tragically perished during Robert's Rebellion.
The most famous Rhaenys Targaryen, however, was the sister-wife of Aegon the Conqueror.
There was also another renowned Rhaenys, the daughter of Aemon, son of King Jaehaerys I, often referred to as the "Queen Who Never Was." She came close to being the first woman to ascend the Iron Throne.
Samwell didn't know which Rhaenys Daenerys intended to honor with this name, but he didn't press her for details.
"Rhaenys is a wonderful name," he said with a smile, approving the choice.
The little princess seemed to hear her name, as she stirred, rolled over, and woke up.
Then, a loud cry echoed through the room.
Daenerys quickly picked up her daughter, gently rocking her and preparing to nurse.
When Samwell tried to help, Daenerys waved him off and said,
"You should visit Margaery and Octavian. And don't forget Sarella—her fiancé has been missing for days."
Samwell reluctantly left his wife and daughter, cleaned up, and made his way to Margaery's chambers.
---
Margaery was sitting at her dressing table when Samwell arrived. Her chestnut curls were loosely styled, and the silver mirror reflected her graceful features. When she saw him enter, her face lit up with a delighted smile.
"Sam, you're back."
"Yes, I returned last night. I went to see Daenerys and Rhaenys first," Samwell said, leaning in to kiss her.
"Rhaenys? Is that the princess's name? It's lovely."
"Yes, Daenerys chose it."
"And Octavian?"
"He's in the other room."
Samwell walked through the antechamber to the bedroom, where he found his son wobbling unsteadily as he chased the small red dragon.
When Octavian saw his father, he paused briefly, then laughed gleefully and toddled over.
Samwell knelt to scoop him up, grinning.
"You can walk now!"
Margaery followed him into the room and said with a laugh,
"Yes, he started by crawling after Dawnfire, but one day he just decided to stand up and chase him on two legs. Have you eaten yet?"
"Not yet."
"I'll have something prepared."
"Thank you."
The red dragon, Dawnfire, realizing its playmate was no longer chasing it, fluttered over and perched on Samwell's shoulder. It stretched its elegant neck toward Octavian, trying to nuzzle him.
If it were up to Samwell, he would have stayed forever in this warm and simple scene. But unfortunately, he still had responsibilities as King of the Seven Kingdoms.
Over breakfast, Samwell finally broached the issue that had been on his mind.
"Have you made any progress on the stolen dragon egg?"
Margaery sighed.
"Not much. We've searched the entire city but found no trace of the egg or Bruce Antaryon. It's as if he vanished into thin air."
"Even Gavin hasn't found him?"
"No," Margaery said, pouring him a cup of milk. "But Gavin's spies did find a few people who were near Rhaenys Hill at the time. According to them, Bruce was seen leaving the ruins of the dragonpit."
Margaery paused for emphasis and added,
"Alone."
Samwell nodded thoughtfully.
"So he left the dragonpit by himself… If he's managed to evade detection despite the lockdown, then Bruce must be quite resourceful."
"Gavin suspects Bruce Antaryon might be a Faceless Man," Margaery suggested.
Samwell immediately shook his head.
"Bruce Antaryon isn't a Faceless Man."
Margaery raised an eyebrow in surprise, prompting him to explain further.
"Faceless Men use sorcery to alter their appearances. If Bruce were one of them, I would have noticed it the moment I met him."
Margaery nodded but looked even more puzzled.
"Then how is he evading us? Even Gavin's little birds haven't been able to find him."
Samwell cut into a piece of sausage, ate it thoughtfully, and finally said,
"This was a carefully orchestrated operation."
"But by whom?" Margaery pressed. "And why? If the Sea Lord of Braavos is behind this, what does he stand to gain by antagonizing us?"
Samwell took a sip of milk and said,
"Perhaps I'll find the answer when I get to Braavos."
"You're leaving again?" Margaery asked, her tone tinged with disappointment.
Samwell sighed, taking her hand.
"I'm sorry. I can't afford to stop just yet…"
Margaery smiled gently, pushing aside her sadness.
"I understand. You have a world to save, after all."
Samwell shrugged.
"If I had the choice, I'd rather take you all to a quiet island and live out our days in peace."
"But who would sit on the Iron Throne then?" Margaery teased, her playful smile returning.
(End of Chapter)
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