"So, this is the crest of House Caesar," Margaery mused, examining the parchment Samwell handed her.
The background was a clear sky blue, featuring a lifelike two-headed hawk. Its body was a mottled gray-brown, with pure white tail feathers, and behind the hawk, a flaming sword and a warhammer wrapped in lightning were crossed.
"It's a beautiful crest!" Margaery praised, then asked, "And your family words?"
Samwell shrugged. "Still working on that."
Truthfully, Samwell had already decided long ago. Since he had chosen the name Caesar, both the crest and words seemed almost inevitable.
The crest was manageable—just a modified Roman eagle. But Caesar's famed words had resounded through history:
"I came, I saw, I conquered."
Yet Samwell knew he couldn't claim such a phrase now. The time simply wasn't right, and he wasn't interested in picking some substitute. So, for now, he'd leave it blank and wait until…
"That's all right, there's no rush. After all, these will be the words for the descendants of House Caesar to live by," Margaery said with a sweet smile, tucking away the parchment.
The noblewoman stood at the bow, the warm sea breeze stirring her fitted blue dress, perfectly outlining her graceful curves. Her soft, chestnut-brown hair was swept back, revealing her swan-like, elegant neck.
Sensing Samwell's gaze, Margaery's perfect features took on a teasing hint of mischief. "Enjoying the view?"
"Yes," Samwell replied honestly.
Margaery rolled her eyes playfully. "Still, staring so openly is hardly polite."
"Well, then I don't mind being a bit impolite."
Her own expression warmed with a touch of satisfaction. Despite herself, she raised a brow in mock reproach, trying to hide her amusement. "Tell me, Ser Caesar, have you ever thought about what kind of man you want to become?"
"Hmm… I can't say I have."
"That's hard to believe."
"I lack ambition."
She scoffed, "A man without ambition wouldn't have established a domain at Eagle's Point, nor driven back the Daynes and a combined host of Dornish lords."
"A lack of ambition doesn't mean I'm an easy mark," Samwell replied, shrugging. "And what about you, Lady Margaery?"
"Oh, I'm not so sure…" Margaery leaned over the railing, gazing at the water below.
"But I am."
"You are?" She turned to him, clearly unconvinced.
Samwell smiled. "I'm guessing that you want to be a queen."
Margaery froze, her expression faltering. She was still searching for a response when Samwell added, "It's probably the greatest dream of any noblewoman."
"Ha! Well, you're right," she replied, smoothing her hair as if to hide her reaction. "Though Prince Joffrey is still quite young."
"Not for long," Samwell answered with a broad grin. "I hear Prince Joffrey is truly adored by his people, praised all over King's Landing for his kindness and wisdom. Marrying him would surely be your greatest happiness."
"Oh, really?" Margaery turned, raising an eyebrow. "I've yet to hear such tales."
"It's true, I assure you. Minstrels say that young Joffrey is destined to become a great king, much like Prince Aeryon of old."
"'Aeryon the Brightflame?'" Margaery's face grew skeptical. "He's the prince who believed he was a dragon and drank wildfire, killing himself…"
"Really? I might've mixed him up. Perhaps I meant Prince Maegor?"
"'Maegor the Cruel?'"
"Oh, did I say that? Then it must've been Prince Rhaegar."
"Who choked on an eel pie?" Margaery finally realized he was teasing her, scowling playfully. "Samwell Caesar, what exactly are you implying?"
Samwell spread his hands, looking as innocent as possible. "I'm only quoting the minstrels. It's not my fault if I mix up the names."
"Or history." She added, stifling her own laughter as she looked at him.
"My father was always troubled with my education. Why else do you think he threw me out?"
"Perhaps because you ate too many prawns!" Margaery laughed until she nearly doubled over, giving Samwell an ample view of the curves he had just been admiring.
---
Pleasant moments pass quickly. Before long, their ship reached Starfall's docks.
Margaery quickly straightened her dress, resumed her composed expression, and reverted to her poised, graceful self.
Pointing to the royal fleet moored at the pier, she remarked, "Look, Lord Arryn has already arrived."
Samwell nodded, looking forward to meeting the Hand of the King, one of the most powerful men of House Baratheon. "Let's go pay our respects to the Hand of the King."
The two entered the castle, intending to meet with Jon Arryn, but they were informed that the Hand had just arrived and was resting after his long journey.
With nothing else to do, Samwell bid farewell to Margaery and her brother, Garlan, before heading off to find Lord Randyll Tarly.
On his way, he ran into Nathalie.
"Samwell!" She ran over excitedly. "You're finally back! Did you see my mother?"
Samwell shook his head. "Sorry, Lady Nathalie. Your mother wasn't at Eagle's Nest."
Seeing her expression fall, he quickly added, "But I left word with Gavin. If he sees your mother, he'll be sure to let her know you miss her."
Her smile returned, and she began happily chatting about the recent events at Starfall as they walked together.
When she got to describing the welcome party for Jon Arryn at the docks, Samwell picked up on the tension between Prince Oberyn and the Hand of the King.
It wasn't surprising, though.
Back when the Rebellion had ended, Oberyn had nearly gone to war to support Prince Viserys Targaryen and avenge his slain sister and her children. Only Lord Arryn's personal negotiations with Prince Doran Martell had defused the conflict.
But Oberyn had never forgotten his desire for vengeance and had since sought every possible way to achieve it.
So, it was no wonder he had no warm welcome for the man who had once thwarted his plans.
"Samwell, I've earned myself a title recently!" Nathalie said proudly.
"Oh? And what title is that?"
The young girl straightened up, proudly puffing out her chest. "Nathalie the Generous!"
"Impressive title. What did you do to earn it?"
"Nothing much." She looked puzzled. "I've mostly just been getting used to things around the castle. It's exhausting being a lord."
"Then how…" Samwell suddenly understood.
The "generous" title likely referred to her generosity with Dayne family assets.
A little joke about how she'd nearly given away all the family's wealth…
"Do you think I should go distribute oat porridge to the poor?" she asked earnestly.
"Not a bad idea," he said, holding back a smile as he debated whether to explain her "title."
"Alright, then I'll go tomorrow!" she decided brightly.
Maybe it was best to leave things unsaid.
In the end, Samwell decided that knowledge often brings too much trouble.
People like Nathalie were much happier without it.
(End of Chapter)