Chapter 102: In Demand

After Prince Oberyn left, the crowd also began to disperse. As soon as Samwell stepped out the door, he was called over by Lord Randyll Tarly.

"Father, is there something you need?"

Lord Randyll nodded and gestured for his son to follow him. They entered a nearby small room, and once the door was closed, Lord Randyll spoke:

"There's something I need to tell you. Earlier, to secure the Florent family's military support, I promised Lord Alester that after the battle, you would marry his eldest granddaughter, Elora Florent."

Samwell immediately frowned upon hearing this.

Why do so many people want to marry their daughters off to me? First Horn Hill, then Arbor isl, and now Brightwater Keep...

Am I really this in demand? Although the Florent family would make an excellent marriage alliance, Samwell didn't want to marry a girl he'd never even met—and one who was, after all, his cousin.

Besides, he had bigger ambitions...

"Ahem, Father, how old is this Elora?"

Lord Randyll thought for a moment and said, "I believe she's twelve."

Samwell rolled his eyes.

So, a minor cousin? Father, you can't be serious.

"Isn't she a bit young...?"

"You don't have to marry her immediately." Lord Randyll seemed to notice his son's reluctance and, with a frown, said, "You could be betrothed now, and once she reaches her first flowering, you two can marry."

What kind of crazy talk is this!

Even though Samwell had already been in this world for a year, he still couldn't fully adjust to the mindset of the "great" lords.

"That doesn't seem right..." Samwell muttered reluctantly. "How about we compensate the Florents some other way? Brandy, perhaps?"

After all, the Florents had made a significant contribution this time, and he didn't feel good outright rejecting them.

Lord Randyll scrutinized his son for a while. "Why are you so unwilling? Are you worried she might not be pretty? No need for concern. I've seen her myself; she's quite an adorable little girl."

"Or perhaps a few more gold dragons would be better," Samwell continued negotiating, "and you could deduct it from my share of the war compensations."

"Why are you so against it? Do you have someone else in mind?" Lord Randyll narrowed his eyes, seemingly guessing something. "Could it be...Nathalie Dayne?"

What now?

Before Samwell could object, Lord Randyll, sounding serious, nodded. "Nathalie would indeed be a good match. Marrying her would help you consolidate control over Starfall and Skyreach."

Samwell wisely stayed quiet.

He figured it might be better to let his father keep on with this particular misunderstanding. If he told him outright that his real target was the daughter of the Lord of Highgarden, Lord Randyll would probably scold him for his unrealistic ambitions.

"Very well," Lord Randyll eventually said after considering it, choosing to support his son's intentions. "In that case, go after Nathalie, and as for the Florent girl, I'll have your brother marry her in your stead."

Samwell breathed a sigh of relief, smiling as he replied, "Thank you, Father. I'm sure Dickon will be very happy."

---

Later that night, Samwell finished his dinner and took a walk on his way back to his room.

The moonlight poured down, bathing the silent courtyard. Samwell strolled along the winding gravel path, deep in thought.

"Hey, Ser Caesar."

A clear voice broke his thoughts. Looking up, Samwell saw a young woman with a shapely figure seated on a swing in the garden, swaying gently back and forth. Her black hair fluttered in the night breeze, and her alluring face, glowing in the moonlight, looked even more tempting.

"Princess Arianne," Samwell smiled politely. "I didn't expect you to be out here."

"Why don't you join me?" Arianne invited him warmly, shifting a bit to make room beside her on the swing.

"I think I'll pass."

"Is it too cramped?" Arianne teased with a grin. "In that case, I could sit on your lap."

"No, thank you." Samwell refused flatly. "I'm more worried that the swing won't hold both of us."

Arianne rolled her eyes. "Are all the men in the Reach this dull?"

Samwell crossed his arms, countering, "Are all the women of Dorne this... uninhibited?"

To his surprise, Arianne laughed and nodded. "That's right. The heat and fiery food here make Dornish men irritable and Dornish women wild and unrestrained. Our veins are filled with chili peppers and strong wine, so we just can't hold ourselves back."

She licked her lips, speaking in a deliberately seductive tone, "Especially... in bed."

Samwell's throat tightened. To say he wasn't tempted would be a lie; no man could resist such a beautiful woman. But he was well aware that this was a woman who was skilled at using desire to manipulate men.

Besides, they were, for now, on opposing sides. Even if he were thinking with his other brain, he knew she couldn't be trusted.

"You could try a cooler bed," he replied, bowing slightly. "Good night, Princess."

As Samwell turned to leave, Arianne called out, sounding a bit frantic, "Stop, Samwell Tarly!"

"Yes, Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell?"

Arianne walked over to him, her head held high, forcing Samwell to look down. But from her angle, it gave her the chance to subtly flaunt her curves.

Noticing him deliberately avoiding her gaze, she smiled smugly. "I have a suggestion for settling the current dispute between the Reach and Dorne."

"And what suggestion would that be?" Samwell could smell the heavy scent of myrish flowers mixed with a distinct note of wine. Apparently, the Dornish princess had already indulged quite a bit tonight.

"It's simple," Arianne smiled dazzlingly. "I'll marry you."

What?

Samwell was speechless. Why does everyone want to marry me?

Is my charm just that irresistible? he thought smugly.

But despite her beauty, he had no intention of marrying her.

She was dangerous, troublesome, and a bit too free-spirited for his taste.

Seeing Samwell's lack of enthusiasm, Arianne's brows knitted in confusion. "What's wrong with you? A Dornish princess wants to marry you, and you're not thrilled?"

Samwell shot her a sidelong glance, responding coolly, "Princess, your father would never approve of such a marriage."

Arianne's face darkened. "You're right. My father would never agree."

She gritted her teeth, "Walder Frey, Gyles Rosby, Ben Beesbury... my father's choices for my suitors are always these decrepit old men. I don't understand. I don't understand why he hates me so much!"

Samwell, however, knew the real reason.

Prince Doran actually had a secret betrothal arranged for Arianne—to the exiled prince Viserys Targaryen across the Narrow Sea. He used these old suitors as distractions, knowing she would reject them. This way, she would remain unwed and avoid spoiling the secret betrothal.

Poor Arianne had been kept in the dark, always assuming her father disliked her and wanted to strip her of her inheritance.

But Samwell had no intention of enlightening her; he couldn't very well explain how he knew all of this.

He couldn't say he had read it in a book, could he?

Arianne didn't dwell long on her sorrows, quickly lifting her head again to look at Samwell with a determined expression:

"Samwell, let's just have a child together!"

(End of Chapter)