Game of Thrones: Lord of the Flames

Bronzegate.

Samwell landed in the castle courtyard astride his white dragon, descending with an air of majesty. The gathered townsfolk and guards scattered to the edges, staring in awe at the young Storm King and his fearsome mount.

His arrival was unannounced, so no formal welcome had been prepared.

After a few minutes, Lord Ralph Buckler hurried over, slightly out of breath.

"Your Grace, welcome to Bronzegate!"

Samwell instructed him to ensure the dragon was properly tended to, then made his way into the castle.

As word spread, lords and knights from the Stormlands and Reach began to trickle in, offering their greetings. Before long, Queen Margaery Tyrell emerged, holding their son Octavian, to welcome her husband home from his journey.

After a month apart, Margaery seemed even more graceful and regal. Her brown eyes shimmered with a soft warmth as she gazed at Samwell, her every movement radiating elegance.

Samwell felt a deep warmth in his heart as he approached. He kissed his wife and then planted a playful kiss on his son's chubby cheek. Spotting the red dragon egg Octavian was cradling, Samwell chuckled.

"This little one still hasn't hatched yet, I see."

Margaery handed Octavian to Samwell, playfully scolding, "And you've done nothing to help him."

"How am I supposed to help?" Samwell scratched his head in thought. "Sacrifice another king, perhaps?"

"Figure it out," Margaery said with a teasing smile as Samwell rocked their son gently in his arms.

The boy giggled with delight—then promptly wet his pants.

"So this is how you welcome your father home?" Samwell said with a laugh.

Margaery couldn't help but laugh as well. Taking Octavian back, she handed him to the waiting maids to be cleaned up and changed.

"Come, I've had warm water prepared for you," she said, taking her husband's hand and leading him into the castle.

As they ascended the spiral staircase, Samwell asked, "Where's Dany?"

"She's out patrolling the front lines on Drogon."

"She's pregnant and still won't stay put?"

"I've told her to rest several times, but she can't sit still."

"I'll speak to her when she returns."

The two entered the bath chamber, and Margaery dismissed the maids, choosing to personally help Samwell undress.

In turn, Samwell helped her out of her dress. Soon, the pair were soaking together in a fragrant bath, enjoying a private, intimate reunion.

It wasn't until the sun was setting that Samwell emerged, refreshed and dressed in clean clothes.

"Is Lord Randyll in the castle?" he asked.

"Yes, Your Grace," Margaery replied. "He just returned from inspecting the troops and is currently in the study on the second floor."

"Good."

Descending the stairs, Samwell made his way to the study and entered to find Lord Randyll Tarly in conversation with Lord Leyton Hightower.

"Your Grace," both men said, rising to their feet in respect.

"Be seated," Samwell gestured as he took a seat himself. "How are the troops assembling?"

"All forces from the Stormlands and Reach have gathered," Randyll reported. "Except for the Redwynes of the Arbor."

"The Redwynes," Samwell muttered as he took a sip of the bitter coffee before him, letting the taste linger. "I assume you've heard about the situation on the Iron Islands?"

Both men nodded gravely.

"Euron Greyjoy is an unhinged lunatic," Randyll declared.

"A dangerous lunatic," Leyton added with a worried expression. "Your Grace, the Ironborn have taken the Arbor. Their next target may very well be the Reach. Many lords here are already considering withdrawing their forces to defend their lands."

"That must not happen," Randyll said firmly. "If we allow one lord to pull back, the Lannisters will exploit the precedent, sending small forces to raid our rear. Soon, everyone will have an excuse to withdraw. The army will collapse, and this campaign will become a joke."

Samwell understood his father's concern. This war had taken immense effort and resources to organize; he couldn't afford to let it fall apart midway.

"Anyone wishing to withdraw should come speak to me directly," Samwell said, glancing at Leyton. "Lord Leyton, I understand your concern for Oldtown's safety, but trust me: the Ironborn are poor at sieging fortified cities. Without rebel Stag's forces aiding them from within, they'll never take a single castle in the Reach."

"I'm not worried about Oldtown itself," Leyton admitted. "But the countryside will suffer from their raids."

"I'll dispatch the Stormlands fleet to patrol the Mander River," Samwell assured him.

Relieved, Leyton finally smiled. "That should do it. Your fleet defeated the Redwyne fleet; I'm confident they can handle the Ironborn as well."

Randyll seemed like he wanted to speak but ultimately remained silent.

Samwell, however, could guess his father's thoughts.

Sending the Stormlands fleet to the Mander would leave their army without naval protection when it came time to cross the Blackwater River.

Even so, Samwell knew he had to act to reassure the Reach lords and keep their forces committed.

As for the river crossing, he wasn't too concerned. The Redwyne fleet was already defeated, and the Ironborn clearly had other plans. There was little chance they'd come to the Lannisters' aid.

Under these circumstances, the Lannisters would have minimal naval forces to challenge his crossing.

"How are things on the front lines?" Samwell asked next.

"Since capturing our forward camps, the Lannister forces haven't made any further moves," Randyll reported. "They've likely realized Bronzegate is too well-fortified and heavily garrisoned for a direct assault."

"That's also because Your Grace secured Dorne," Leyton added. "Tywin knows he can no longer hold you off by keeping you tied up there, so he won't waste his strength on futile maneuvers."

"Tywin doesn't have the numbers to match us," Randyll pointed out. "Here at Bronzegate, we've gathered 120,000 soldiers from the Reach and Stormlands combined. By our estimates, the Lannisters can barely muster 80,000 in King's Landing."

"Exactly," Leyton said with a chuckle. "If they remain holed up in the city, they might have a chance. But if they march out to meet us…"

"Tywin would never sit idly behind the city walls," Randyll said with conviction. "The Blackwater River is their lifeline. If they lose control of it, they're finished."

Samwell nodded in agreement.

"King's Landing's population is too large; the city can't sustain itself. If we surround it and cut off supply routes along the Goldroad and Rosby Road, they'll face famine and rebellion. Tywin has no choice but to hold the Blackwater."

Leyton, too, seemed to realize this and visibly relaxed. "In that case, it seems we have the upper hand."

"Indeed," Samwell said with a smile. "The Lannisters can't hold out for long. I aim to end this war swiftly—after all, winter is coming."

(End of Chapter)