บท 372: Chapter 373: Offspring
Ser Alekyne Florent adjusted his posture, sitting upright as the air grew tense. Samwell's expression turned serious, and the Storm King's demeanor reflected the gravity of their discussion.
"I've come," Ser Alekyne began carefully, "hoping to mend relations between House Florent and House Caesar. Though there have been conflicts in the past, our blood ties remain strong, and no grievance is beyond reconciliation."
Samwell's lips curved into a faint smile.
"And what about Brightwater Keep? Will House Florent concede its loss to Dickon?"
After a moment of hesitation, Ser Alekyne gritted his teeth and nodded.
"House Florent accepts it. Dickon is my nephew, after all, and he married my daughter. Let him have Brightwater Keep."
Samwell raised an eyebrow, visibly surprised.
"You're far more generous than my grandfather ever was, Uncle."
Ser Alekyne's smile turned bitter.
"My father is rotting in Stannis's dungeons. House Florent teeters on the brink of ruin. We've nothing left to hold onto."
"And what of Aunt Selyse? Does she willingly relinquish her crown as queen?"
"Selyse has lost her sanity." Ser Alekyne sighed heavily. "What mother schemes to burn her own daughter? House Florent won't follow her—or Stannis—down this doomed path."
Samwell said nothing, his dark eyes scrutinizing Ser Alekyne as his fingers tapped rhythmically on the chair's armrest. Each tap struck like a hammer on Alekyne's nerves.
"Samwell,"Alekyne finally broke the silence, unable to withstand the mounting tension. "I swear, House Florent has resolved to abandon Stannis. Dragonstone is poorly defended, its 1,300 soldiers demoralized. Lend me 2,000 men, and I'll seize Dragonstone in your name."
Samwell's tapping ceased, but instead of agreement, he shook his head.
"You're too late. My fleet set sail for the Dornish Sea earlier today."
"I can wait,"Alekyne said hurriedly.
"But Stannis won't. You mentioned he plans to march to the Wall, didn't you?"
"That's just madness,"Alekyne scoffed, unconvinced. "And now that his hopes of awakening dragons are dashed without Shireen, he might abandon the idea entirely."
Samwell's expression shifted into an enigmatic smile.
"Uncle, you've spent so much time with Stannis and still haven't grasped his character.
"Stannis knows he isn't suited to be king. He can't win people's love, and his claim to the throne is driven purely by duty and responsibility. Ironically, of the four claimants to the throne, his motives are the purest.
"Even as his enemy, I respect him. And I'm certain that dragon or no dragon, he will march to the Wall. He sees it as his duty."
Alekyne furrowed his brow, visibly skeptical, but he didn't voice his doubts.
Samwell continued:
"Winter is coming, and with it, a dreadful foe from the North. Only a united Westeros can survive this calamity. If Stannis goes to the Wall, I won't attack his lands."
Alekyne hesitated, unsure how to respond.
Rising from his seat, Samwell declared:
"Take this message back to Stannis. Tell him we face a common enemy. If he's willing, we can set aside our differences until the White Walkers are defeated. Then we'll decide who sits the Iron Throne."
"White Walkers?" Alekyne's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Are they real?"
"Absolutely," Samwell said firmly.
Then he added, "Tell him Shireen will remain at Storm's End, where I will ensure her safety. If Stannis perishes at the Wall, the Baratheon line will continue through her. In exchange, I want him to lift his ban on trading dragon glass."
"Dragon glass?" Alekyne asked, puzzled. "What's it for?"
"It's lethal to White Walkers," Samwell explained without hesitation. "Tell him that too—whether he believes it is up to him. Also, warn him not to trust the red priests. R'hllor is as much a fraud as any other so-called god. If we're to survive this, we must rely on ourselves."
Alekyne was stunned by Samwell's candidness. After a long silence, he stammered:
"But what about House Florent? What of our future?"
"Your future lies with your sworn king. Go to the Wall with Stannis," Samwell replied.
Alekyne's shoulders sagged.
"So, this is our punishment for past betrayals?"
"It's both punishment and redemption," Samwell said coolly. "Uncle, go to the Wall. I promise, when we meet again at the Wall, I will pardon all of House Florent's transgressions."
"And if Stannis changes his mind and doesn't march to the Wall?" Alekyne asked hesitantly.
"Then he becomes my foremost enemy," Samwell said without hesitation. "When my fleet returns from the Dornish Sea, Dragonstone will be my first target. If House Florent aids me in taking it, I'll accept your allegiance."
"Understood," Alekyne said, a glimmer of hope returning to his face. "We'll see what Stannis chooses."
He bowed and left.
Samwell watched him go, his feelings toward House Florent conflicted.
On one hand, their shared blood and the aid they had once given him during his darkest days tugged at his heart. On the other, politics and power had driven them apart. Such was the cruelty of the game they played.
And from a pragmatic standpoint, a weakened House Florent was easier to control, ensuring Dickon's rule over Brightwater Keep remained unchallenged.
Shaking off his musings, Samwell left the chamber.
The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and gold, casting its light over the expansive sea. From the tower balcony, he spotted Margaery and Daenerys walking hand in hand through the garden below.
The two women appeared relaxed, chatting and laughing as they strolled.
Margaery, draped in a deep green gown adorned with golden roses, radiated maternal warmth, her rounded belly evidence of her pregnancy.
Daenerys, in a regal red-and-black gown, exuded youthful elegance, her violet eyes sparkling with curiosity and joy.
Both looked up at him, their radiant smiles beaming like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. They waved at him, and he waved back, his heart swelling with warmth.
"She will bear you a daughter," came Melisandre's voice from behind him.
Samwell turned around, smiled at the "human ultrasound detector" and said:.
"Daenerys? A daughter will be wonderful."
"She will also give you two sons," Melisandre added.
Samwell chuckled.
"Have you foreseen the exact number of my children, too?"
Melisandre inclined her head. "You will have thirteen in total."
Samwell laughed heartily.
"It seems I'm destined to be prolific."
But Melisandre's expression remained serious. The ruby at her throat gleamed ominously.
"Majesty, dragons that multiply too freely are as dangerous as dragons that fail to breed. Both bring calamity."
Samwell's laughter faded. He studied the priestess with a penetrating gaze.
"What have you seen in the flames this time?"
Melisandre hesitated, but Samwell raised a hand.
"Don't tell me. Prophecies are riddled with lies and traps, and you and I both know it."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Samwell turned back to the balcony.
As night fell, the two queens returned to the main keep, their laughter echoing faintly in the growing darkness. When they reached the tower, they stepped into Samwell's embrace, their shared warmth banishing the chill of the evening.
(End of Chapter)
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