"Your dragon wants to eat me," said Tyrion, his voice trembling as he stared at the massive dragon head mere inches away, its size rivaling his entire body.
Samwell dismounted from the dragon's back, a grin tugging at his lips.
"Relax. It doesn't eat dwarfs. Eating one might stunt its growth."
"Yes, yes, of course," Tyrion replied quickly, not the least bit offended. Instead, he nodded fervently. "Besides, I haven't bathed in days. Eating me would probably upset its stomach."
Cleopatra, the white dragon, seemed to understand. It snorted disdainfully and turned its head away, no longer glaring at Tyrion.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Tyrion's apprehension melted into admiration as he took another look at the dragon.
Such a beautiful and dangerous creature—a true miracle of nature.
As they walked toward the Old Palace, Tyrion's curiosity got the better of him, and he began peppering Samwell with questions:
"How high can it fly?"
"Over ten thousand feet, easily."
"Don't you worry about falling off? I heard the Targaryens used to use saddles for their dragons. Why don't you use one?"
"I'm strong. I don't need one."
"How much does it eat in one sitting? Does it... you know... leave behind a lot of waste? Is it picky about food?"
Samwell rolled his eyes as the barrage of increasingly bizarre questions continued, eventually choosing to ignore Tyrion altogether.
But the Lannister dwarf was undeterred:
"Is it male or female? Septon Barth once wrote that dragons have no fixed gender. What do you think? Don't ignore me, Caesar! We've been to brothels together, for crying out loud—don't be a stranger now…"
It wasn't until they entered the grand hall of the Old Palace that Tyrion finally fell silent.
Inside, dozens of nobles from the Riverlands and the Vale had gathered. Their ragged appearances bore testimony to the hardships they had endured during their captivity.
"Lord Edmure! It's been too long. Still as dashing as ever!" Tyrion called out with a cheerful grin before turning his attention to another familiar face. "Ah, little Cleos! It's a relief to see you alive and well. Aunt Genna was worried sick about you. Don't worry—I'll personally escort you back home.
"Oh, and Ser Patrek! Good to see you, too. By the way, your sister's married to my uncle, Lord Damion. That makes us family now…"
"Enough, Imp," Edmure Tully cut him off, his tone sharp and unwelcoming. "Spare us your jokes. Do you have any idea what we've endured these past two years? Tens of thousands of our brothers starved to death under the blazing sun, their corpses left to rot. All of it—all of it—because of Tywin Lannister!"
"You're blaming the wrong man, my lord," Tyrion retorted, raising his hands defensively. "It was the Martells who captured you, and the Martells who refused to feed you. Surely you can't lay that at House Lannister's feet?"
"Your father withdrew our armies in the dead of night and burned every last grain of food before leaving. Was that not his doing? If not for Tywin's actions, we wouldn't have been stranded here!"
"I can't deny that," Tyrion admitted with a shrug. "But my father only meant to delay your return to the Riverlands and the Vale. He never intended for you to starve. You know the situation at the time—certain people with ulterior motives were questioning King Robert's bloodline…"
"Because those three bastards weren't Robert's blood!" Edmure spat, his voice filled with venom. "They were the spawn of incest—Lannister bastards!"
"Let's not throw around accusations like that," Tyrion replied, forcing a smile. "Even Eddard Stark, who first raised those claims in Skyreach, has publicly admitted they were lies. He's now serving on the Wall as a sworn brother of the Night's Watch, seeking redemption for spreading falsehoods."
"Redemption? Voluntary exile?" Edmure sneered. "Do you take us for fools?"
"I regard you as friends," Tyrion said earnestly. "Your father, Lord Hoster Tully, passed away, and I offer my deepest condolences. King Tommen has issued a royal decree naming you Lord of Riverrun and Warden of the Riverlands. All that remains is for you to come to King's Landing and swear fealty."
"An empty title." Samwell finally spoke, his voice calm but cutting. "Edmure Tully, do not forget Tywin's betrayal. He has betrayed you once; he will betray you again. Only I can be a friend you can trust."
"Dragons can never be trusted," Tyrion countered immediately. "Lord Edmure, do not forget the horrors wrought by the Mad King. The trout, wolf, stag, eagle, and lion united to drive out the evil dragons. And now, they've returned. Are you not concerned about revenge?"
"I hold no intent of revenge," Samwell said with a faint smile.
"And yet, you would say that now."
Samwell chuckled softly.
"Do you know why I will not seek vengeance? Because it wasn't me or my Caesar bloodline you expelled back then. It was the Targaryens. What do they have to do with me?"
Tyrion pressed on. "But your wife is the Mad King's daughter. Surely she seeks revenge?"
"The man who killed her brother, Rhaegar, is long dead," Samwell replied. "And those who sacked King's Landing and murdered her family were the Lannisters."
Samwell turned his gaze to Tyrion, his expression sharp and dangerous.
"So even if Daenerys seeks revenge, she will not look to House Tully."
"But the Tullys are allied with the Lannisters."
Samwell scoffed. "Yes, and we've all seen how Tywin treats his allies."
His words struck a nerve, and he quickly followed up:
"Edmure Tully, I was close with your brother-in-law, Eddard Stark. Together, we exposed the false king and ended the charade. He even entrusted his two daughters, Sansa and Arya, to my care."
"They're alive?" Edmure's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Alive and well," Samwell assured him. "They are safe under my protection. If you pledge loyalty, you'll see them soon."
Edmure seemed visibly swayed, but Tyrion rushed to intervene.
"Lord Edmure, Riverrun has already declared for King Tommen. Every house in the Riverlands and the Vale has pledged fealty to him and sent troops to fight on his behalf. If you side with Caesar now, you risk standing against your own kin in battle."
Edmure hesitated once more.
Samwell interjected firmly:
"That won't happen. I promise you this: you and your men will not participate in the coming war."
"Truly?"
"I swear it," Samwell said solemnly. "Given your current state, none of you are fit for war. I will arrange for you to recover first. When the time comes, you'll return home."
Edmure nodded, his resolve finally solidifying. "I have one condition."
"Name it."
"An alliance through marriage."
"Agreed," Samwell said without hesitation. "I have three unmarried sisters. Choose the one you prefer."
Edmure stepped forward, kneeling before Samwell. Raising his sword high, he declared loudly:
"Honorable King of the Storm, Samwell Caesar, I, Edmure Tully, firstborn of Riverrun, pledge my loyalty to you. My sword shall forever serve your cause."
Samwell took the sword and lightly tapped Edmure's shoulders. "I accept your loyalty."
One by one, the Riverlands nobles followed Edmure's lead, kneeling and swearing fealty.
Seeing this, the Vale lords, led by Robar Royce, also pledged their loyalty to Caesar.
Tyrion stood to the side, bitterness rising in his heart.
He knew then, beyond any doubt:
Dorne now belonged to Caesar.
(End of Chapter)