"Did you really use that as an excuse to turn down Doran?"
In the mist-filled warmth of the bathhouse, Samwell and Margaery sat close, facing each other openly.
"Of course. I'm just not interested in Arianne."
"But Princess Arianne is quite beautiful," Margaery teased, blowing warm breath into his ear. "Aren't you even a little tempted?"
"Arianne is lovely, but she's reckless. Look at the mess she's made of Dorne. Marrying her would bring nothing but trouble." Samwell kissed Margaery's soft cheek. "Unlike you, who brings me peace."
Margaery chuckled, creating ripples in the water. "Aren't you worried that rejecting him might push Prince Doran toward the Lannisters entirely?"
"Not really." Samwell shrugged. "What power does Dorne have left at this point? I'd be surprised if they could muster even ten thousand trained soldiers. House Martell can't change the course of this war."
"But what if Prince Doran sides with Stannis Baratheon and frees the captured armies from the Riverlands, Vale, and Stormlands?"
"He won't," Samwell replied with confidence. "Those captives are his main bargaining chip—perhaps the only one he has to sway the game of the Seven Kingdoms. He wouldn't give them up so easily. And besides, House Martell doesn't want Stannis Baratheon to defeat the Lannisters and take the Iron Throne."
"Why?"
"Because House Martell would rather see the Seven Kingdoms thrown into chaos," Samwell explained. "Leyton Hightower mentioned to me that across the Narrow Sea, the last of the Targaryen line has hatched dragons."
Margaery gasped. "Daenerys Targaryen? She has dragons?"
"Three, actually," Samwell said, a touch of envy slipping into his tone.
Margaery planted a playful kiss on him and murmured, "But you have the Reach behind you. That's worth far more than a couple of hatchlings."
When he smiled again, she continued, "So House Martell is secretly backing Daenerys?"
"Yes. Doran has arranged a secret betrothal between her and his son, Quentyn. That's the real reason I refused him. He's clearly playing both sides, and I suspect he's only pretending to support me so I'll draw the fire away from Daenerys. By crowning me with Aegon's crown and encouraging me to take two wives, he's setting me up to be a target—a way to clear the path for her."
"Not surprising," Margaery said, her gaze thoughtful. "After all, she has three dragons and you only have one—one you'd have to share with the Reach."
"Exactly. Which is why an alliance with House Martell would bring more headaches than advantages."
"And what about allying with House Tyrell?" Margaery's eyes gleamed as she leaned in, her body pressed close against him. "Are there more headaches or more benefits?"
"More benefits, of course!" Samwell replied truthfully, feeling her warmth against him.
"But now you've missed the chance to marry Princess Arianne. Such a beauty—aren't you the least bit disappointed?"
"Whoever wants that crazy woman can have her. I'll pass."
"Then…what about Nathalie Dayne?"
Samwell hesitated a moment. "I think of her as a sister."
"Really?" Margaery laughed, her whole body shaking in amusement.
Samwell couldn't let that slide. He gripped her waist and pulled her close, continuing their playful games beneath the water.
---
As autumn set in, even Dorne's sun was less harsh. Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the blue sky, twisting into strange shapes.
Under a grape arbor, Samwell watched Margaery and Nathalie, who were cheerfully picking grapes, their laughter blending with the gentle rustling of the vines. He felt a deep, contented calm.
With the expansion of the wine industry on Eagle's Nest, Starfall had begun to grow grapes as well, becoming a major supplier of brandy grapes. Samwell had personally fostered this trade link, hoping to strengthen economic ties between the two territories.
The results were promising. Several new vineyards had sprung up around Starfall, creating a new source of prosperity.
Looking over the vineyards, Samwell had a sudden thought—perhaps conquering Dorne wouldn't require warfare at all…
"Sam!" The two women's bright faces appeared before him, snapping him out of his reverie.
"What's up? Finished already?"
"No, we just noticed you'd been standing there for a while." Margaery smiled, popping a grape into his mouth.
The fruit was sweet and tangy, bursting with juice.
"Don't worry about me," Samwell replied, grinning as Nathalie offered him another grape, which he caught in his mouth.
After playing around a bit more, the two women returned to picking grapes, while Samwell strolled behind them, letting his earlier idea develop. Soon, a plan to disrupt Dorne's vulnerable agriculture took shape in his mind.
But this plan would require the support of the Reach.
Samwell decided that once he returned to Highgarden, he'd discuss it with Lady Olenna, the Queen of Thorns.
Just then, Noah Rowan, his attendant, ran up to him, saying, "My lord, an old knight wishes to see you."
"An old knight?" Samwell hesitated, about to ask for the name, when he suddenly realized who it must be. Looking toward the edge of the vineyard, he saw an elderly man dressed in a plain gray robe, his face wrapped in a scarf, held back by guards.
"Bring him over," Samwell ordered, his suspicion growing stronger.
A moment later, the old man was brought before him.
"Ser Barristan, welcome to Starfall," Samwell greeted him with a warm smile.
"Lord Caesar." The old knight looked unaccustomed to appearing without his white cloak and armor. Without them, he felt almost exposed.
"Are you here to see Lady Ashara?" Samwell asked, amusement in his eyes.
Ser Barristan blushed slightly. "I've already visited her and was about to leave when I heard you were here, so I thought I'd pay you a visit as well."
"You're leaving? If you don't mind me asking, where are you headed?"
"Across the Narrow Sea," Ser Barristan replied. "Sailors say there's a girl there who's hatched three dragons."
"I have a dragon too," Samwell offered, attempting to sway him.
"But you're not of Targaryen blood," Ser Barristan replied firmly.
Many suspected Samwell might have Targaryen lineage, but as someone who had served the royal family for decades, Ser Barristan knew without a doubt that Samwell did not carry their blood. At most, in his view, Samwell might have Blackfyre lineage.
Folding his arms, Samwell asked with a grin, "Ser Barristan, you've served many kings. In your opinion, what kind of person should rule the Seven Kingdoms?"
"Whoever should rule is for the gods to decide," Ser Barristan replied evenly. "Such a choice must never be left to mortals; it would only lead to endless war and death. That's the lesson I learned after all my years in King's Landing."
"Ah, so you believe in the divine right of blood," Samwell murmured, finding himself less interested in the conversation. "Then why did you come to see me?"
"To remind you, Lord Caesar, that dragons are a gift from the gods—but also a source of tragedy. Especially a young dragon, which can bring as much danger as support."
Samwell raised an eyebrow. "You're not here to convince me to sail across the Narrow Sea and join that girl with the dragons, are you?"
Ser Barristan's gaze was sincere. "She is the last of true dragon's blood. The queen by right."
Samwell laughed. "Aegon Targaryen didn't conquer the Seven Kingdoms by birthright alone. He conquered them with blood and fire. Ser Barristan, since you've made up your mind, I wish you a safe journey."
Ser Barristan offered a courteous bow and turned to leave without pressing further.
As Samwell watched the old knight's retreating figure, he drifted into thought.
"Sam, who was that?" Margaery's soft voice broke his reverie as she walked up beside him.
"Ser Barristan Selmy."
"Really?" Her eyes sparkled. "Did he come to join you?"
"No. He's heading across the Narrow Sea to find Daenerys."
"A shame," Margaery said, pursing her lips. "Barristan Selmy is respected by most of Westeros. If he fights for someone, they'll be seen as the rightful king."
"It's fine. Some things aren't meant to be forced." Samwell shrugged. "Besides, I don't want to attract too much attention. Having Barristan fighting at my side would only paint a bigger target on my back."
"True," Margaery agreed, letting the matter drop.
Then Nathalie spoke up unexpectedly, "That old knight met with my mother earlier."
Samwell gave her a curious look. "If it was a secret meeting, how did you know?"
Nathalie grinned. "My little birds saw it."
He suddenly recalled that she was a warg, able to see through her raven's eyes.
"They didn't…do anything, right?" Samwell teased.
"What would they do?" Nathalie looked confused. "They just talked. I assumed he was an old friend of hers."
Samwell shrugged and felt that he was overthinking.
A man like Barristan Selmy would make his wife his wife by oath and his son his son by duty.
Even if he has feelings for Lady Ashara, he will still act within the bounds of propriety.
As for the "Queen" that the other party was prepared to pledge allegiance to, Samwell had once thought of surrendering to her, but ultimately did not put it into action.
After all, if he went to the other side of the Narrow Sea, he would probably only be able to become the man behind the queen. Only if he stayed in Westeros and developed his own power would he have a chance to ascend the Iron Throne and only then will he truly be worthy of the name Caesar.
(End of this chapter)