Chapter 93: Prisoner

The setting sun was blood-red.

Its glow cast a golden veil over Princess Arianne, draping her like a delicate shroud.

But her face was ghostly pale.

She'd even forgotten to continue drumming.

From the moment the Reach cavalry had broken through the right wing of the Dornish formation, she knew that defeat was inevitable.

The breach torn open by that iron force was now a fatal wound for the Dornish army.

Nothing could prevent a rout from breaking out at this point.

It was a clear, textbook example of collapse.

The direct casualties inflicted by the Reach cavalry were relatively minor given the nearly twenty thousand strong Dornish force.

The real damage, however, was that the cavalry charge had shattered the Dornish formation, unleashing a terrifying wave of panic.

Once this kind of fear takes hold, a total breakdown is inevitable.

Hooves thundered, men screamed, others begged for mercy... the symphony of war engulfed the barren field.

As Princess Arianne looked out over this hellish scene, a deep chill ran through her.

She realized that her dreams had shattered.

In this moment, she remembered that distant night when she had accidentally come across the letter her father had written to her brother Quentyn—

"One day, you will sit in my place and rule over Dorne..."

Arianne would never forget how she felt upon reading those words.

Her father intended to strip her of her inheritance!

The thought had filled the proud princess with despair, and it was that night that she resolved to prove herself to him.

Yet, in the end, she had still failed.

Now her father wouldn't even need to find an excuse to disinherit her.

The princess thought bitterly.

...

Forward.

Samwell was still fighting.

His strength was nearly spent, and his horse was equally exhausted, but fortunately, there was barely any resistance left.

He no longer needed to swing his greatsword; the Dornish soldiers were scattering, too terrified to stand their ground.

Finally, Samwell broke through the Dornish ranks, emerging from the left flank.

The horizon opened before him, the vast Summer Sea reflecting the sunset like a giant mirror stretching to infinity.

In that moment, Samwell wanted nothing more than to raise his head and shout to the heavens.

"The knights of the Reach are invincible!"

The knights behind him beat him to it, letting out a triumphant roar.

Samwell laughed heartily and joined them.

"The knights of the Reach are invincible!"

Of the more than seven hundred riders that had started the charge, fewer than five hundred remained, all of them covered in blood, resembling steel-clad demons dyed crimson.

In order to pierce through the Dornish army, they had paid a heavy price.

But the impact of their charge far outweighed the cost.

They had delivered the fatal blow to the Dornish army.

It was a feat of valor they would remember for the rest of their lives.

Samwell removed his blood-streaked helmet and took a deep breath.

Though exhausted, he felt an incredible thrill, an urge to turn around and charge once more.

Fortunately, he was lucid enough to know that neither his horse nor his men had the strength for another attack.

Besides, the battle no longer required their participation.

Their task was done, and now it was time for the foot soldiers to finish the job.

Lord Randyll Tarly deftly commanded his troops, surrounding and cutting off the Dornish while deliberately leaving them an escape route.

Samwell observed his father's tactics, finding them insightful.

Watching the Dornish soldiers lay down their weapons in groups, kneeling in surrender, he turned his gaze away.

The battle was over.

Looking around, he caught sight of a familiar figure, surrounded on a hill by Reach soldiers. He turned his horse and trotted toward her.

"Princess Arianne," he called with a grin.

The Dornish guards surrounding her drew their swords, but none dared to advance, clearly intimidated by the fearsome knight who had just ravaged their ranks.

Arianne's gaze fell upon him, silent for a moment.

Seated tall upon his horse, Samwell taunted her, "Remember what I told you before the battle? On the battlefield, the beautiful things are as fragile as porcelain. Was I wrong?"

He raised his blood-stained Heartsbane, gesturing toward the routed Dornish army.

Princess Arianne trembled, recalling the terrifying sight of this relentless knight tearing through her troops.

Then, she dropped the drumstick she'd been holding and began walking down the hill.

The Dornish guards tried to hold her back, but she shook her head, saying,

"The war is over, my brave warriors. Lay down your swords."

Hearing this, the guards lowered their weapons, helplessly.

Arianne walked up to Samwell, standing before him.

Though his armor was covered in blood and even pieces of flesh, making him look like a knight risen from hell, she showed no fear.

Tilting her head up, she said, "Yes, you won this battle. But we will never yield. Just as I said before the fight, we Martells will never bend, break, or bow."

Samwell shrugged indifferently. "Fine. Then let's fight again. This time, we've taken Starfall, and oh, yes, High Hermitage. Next time, we'll see which city you're willing to lose. Perhaps, one day, even Sunspear will bow at my feet."

In the sunset, this blood-streaked Reach knight radiated an overwhelming confidence.

Even Arianne, his opponent, couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration.

"You're very confident," she murmured. "But I must remind you of the Reachman who once tried to rule Dorne—he died in a bed crawling with red scorpions."

Samwell understood she was referring to Lord Lyonel Tyrell.

Following the conquest of Dorne, he'd been appointed Governor of Dorne by Daeron I, but the land had never been truly pacified. Rebellions broke out across the region, and the Reach lord spent his time putting down uprisings, until he met his end at the hands of the Dornish.

It was true, as Princess Arianne had said: ruling this land would be a daunting task for an outsider.

"I think I'll try my luck anyway," Samwell replied, refusing to concede even an inch. "I enjoy a good challenge."

"Then I wish you luck." Arianne smiled brilliantly, her beauty radiant.

Even Samwell had to admit the Dornish princess was mesmerizing.

Then, to his surprise, Arianne extended her right hand toward him.

"What are you doing?" Samwell asked, caught off guard.

Rolling her eyes, she scolded, "A gentleman takes a lady's hand when she offers it, not rudely asking 'What are you doing?'"

"Too bad I'm no gentleman," he replied flatly. "I'm a knight—a killer."

Gritting her teeth in frustration, she shot back, "Very well then, killer knight, do you want to enter Starfall without spilling more blood? I still have over two hundred soldiers defending the castle. If you want to take it by force, it will cost you. But if you take me along, the gates will open for you."

Samwell considered this, finding her proposal logical. But before extending his hand, he gave her a thorough, assessing look.

The princess wore a thin, light gown that hugged her figure, leaving no room to conceal a weapon.

So, he grasped her hand.

Using his support, Arianne nimbly leapt onto his horse, settling gracefully in front of him.

She didn't shy away from his bloodstained armor, instead leaning comfortably against his chest and murmuring,

"Let's go, my knight."

Even through his armor, Samwell could feel the warmth and softness of her body.

Annoyed by her commanding tone, he slapped her thigh firmly and said in a cold voice:

"Bitch!"

(End of Chapter)