Chapter 276: The Wedding

Despite being hastily arranged, the wedding was a grand and meticulously prepared event.

Highgarden, still recovering from the devastation of war, was transformed into a sea of flowers, tapestries, and jewels. The joyous atmosphere dispelled the lingering shadows of recent turmoil, as if heralding an end to suffering and conflict, and a return to peace and happiness in this garden citadel.

With the help of attendants, Samwell donned an elegant ceremonial outfit. A white linen shirt trimmed with gold embroidery at the collar and cuffs was layered beneath a black velvet overcoat adorned with red and gold stripes. The coat bore the sigil of a double-headed eagle embroidered over his chest. A sky-blue cape symbolizing House Caesar hung from his shoulders, and loose trousers tucked neatly into black leather boots completed the ensemble.

Once ready, the attendants opened the door to allow his family to enter.

"Sam!" Melissa Florent, his mother, rushed forward to embrace him tightly, planting two jubilant kisses on his cheeks. "You're finally getting married! I'm so happy!"

"And to none other than the Rose of Highgarden—Lady Margaery!" exclaimed Talla Tarly, his younger sister, as she also threw her arms around him. "Brother, you must be the happiest man in the world today!"

"Big brother, you're amazing!" Two younger sisters followed, giggling and bouncing with joy as they clung to him.

Last came his father, Randyll Tarly, whose usually stern face softened into a rare smile. He embraced Samwell briefly and said, "Well done. House Caesar will finally flourish."

Indeed, with Margaery as its lady, the family would soon gain not only a noble daughter-in-law but also an heir.

Though his emotions were a complex mix of excitement and apprehension, Samwell managed to reassure his family before pulling his father aside to a smaller adjacent room.

"What is it?" Randyll asked, his brow furrowed slightly. "Are you nervous?"

"Of course not," Samwell replied with a sigh, retrieving a letter from his pocket and handing it over.

Randyll read it quickly, his expression darkening. "Coronating Myrcella Baratheon as queen? Whose idea is this?"

"It was Lady Olenna's," Samwell said grimly. "I knew something was off when she suggested it, but I didn't refuse immediately. I wanted to see how she'd proceed and gauge Doran Martell's reaction. Now, it seems Doran has responded—and he agrees."

"Of course he agrees. Dorne's position is precarious right now. Though they hold the Riverlands and stormlands forces as prisoners, they've gained little from it. They lack both the strength and opportunity to take part in the broader conflict. Offering them a queen to crown is a temptation Doran Martell, cautious as he is, can't ignore."

Randyll paused before continuing, "This move could indeed unite Dorne, the Reach, and the Stormlands, possibly driving the Lannisters out of King's Landing and ending this war. But for you, it's a poisoned chalice. You realize that, don't you?"

"Yes." Samwell nodded, his face somber. "Back in Skyreach, I killed Joffrey Baratheon, justifying it by declaring him a false king, born of incest and unworthy of the Iron Throne. If I now endorse Myrcella Baratheon as queen, wouldn't I be contradicting myself?"

"Exactly," Randyll said. "Recognizing Myrcella's claim undermines your justification for killing Joffrey. Instead of being celebrated as a king-dethroner, you'd forever bear the stain of KingSlayer. A ducal title from Myrcella wouldn't be worth such a blemish on your reputation."

Samwell exhaled heavily, his expression darkening further. "Was this Olenna's intention all along? To weaken my standing? How foolish I was, risking everything to help the Tyrells suppress their rebellion..."

"I warned you before—don't play the hero in the Game of Thrones," Randyll said coldly. "Olenna Tyrell doesn't care that you saved Highgarden or her family. She certainly doesn't care that your actions sent her beloved grandson, Willas, to Oakheart as a hostage. All she cares about are the interests of House Tyrell. And to her, you are a threat to their influence and prestige."

For once, Samwell didn't argue. He lowered his head, his gaze flickering as he fell into deep thought.

"Sam! What are you two doing in there? The ceremony is about to start!" Melissa's voice called from outside.

"Coming, Mother!" Samwell replied.

Randyll patted his son's shoulder and said, "Focus on the wedding for now. Whatever Olenna's motives for arranging Myrcella's coronation, remember: Margaery is a key piece on the board. Hold onto her tightly. If the time ever comes to break ties with the Tyrells, she'll be your entry point to Highgarden and the Reach."

Samwell nodded silently.

In truth, his desire to marry Margaery went beyond political calculations. He genuinely loved her and believed she had no part in Olenna's schemes.

Back in Skyreach, when he was a minor noble who had just slain Joffrey and incurred the wrath of the most powerful house in Westeros without a dragon no less, Margaery had still defied her family to stand by him. That kind of Relationship was worth cherishing.

Pushing his turbulent thoughts aside, Samwell stepped out of the room with a smile.

Highgarden, bathed in soft morning light, looked serene and inviting.

Led by attendants, Samwell made his way to the Great Sept.

Outside the massive doors, seven knights stood in formation, their expressions resolute and devout. Clad in identical armor and deep green surcoats, they drew their swords in unison to honor Samwell as he approached.

Behind them, a choir sang hymns under the direction of septas, while Tyrell maidens scattered golden rose petals into the air. The petals rained down like sunlight, carpeting the path to the sept.

Randyll Tarly and his family took a side entrance, leaving the main doors for Samwell.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over the gathering.

Cleopatra, Samwell's white dragon, swooped down from the sky, circling once before landing gracefully beside him. The gust of heat from her descent sent the maidens shrieking and scurrying back in alarm.

Cleopatra nudged Samwell's chest affectionately with her triangular head.

Samwell patted the dragon's rough, scaly hide, signaling her to follow.

Dong... Dong... Dong...

The sept's bells rang out, and Samwell stepped forward into the holy space.

Cleopatra, using her wings as support, trailed behind like an oversized page. Though her size was already imposing, the sept's wide doors allowed her just enough room to pass.

A red carpet stretched from the entrance to the altar, leading to gilded statues of the Father and Mother. Their serene gazes seemed to bless the proceedings.

Inside, dozens of Reach nobles had gathered to witness the union.

As Samwell walked past, he felt their eyes—some envious, some awed—follow him.

This admiration wasn't merely because he was marrying the Tyrell heiress. Samwell Caesar had proven himself on the battlefield. He had breached the unbreachable Storm's End and quelled a rebellion in the Reach.

The murmurs among the nobles hinted at a growing belief:

Samwell Caesar might truly be destined for greatness, not to mention—he has a dragon.

Moreover, it is a dragon with an extremely astonishing growth rate.

In the past, many Reach nobles thought that this white dragon might not be able to bring much help to Samwell, after all, it takes time for a dragon to grow.

But now it seems that it won't be long before this white dragon can reproduce the style of the "Black Dread" Balerion.

Standing among the front rows, Olenna Tyrell watched her future grandson-in-law with a warm, approving smile.

Sensing her gaze, Samwell flashed her an equally radiant smile in return.

The ceremony began as he ascended the altar's steps.

Moments later, the bride appeared.

Margaery Tyrell, escorted by her father, entered the sept.

Her gown, an ivory silk dress layered with snow-white chiffon, was adorned with golden roses that shimmered in the light.

A wreath of winter roses crowned her loosely curled brown hair, and a faint frost clung to its petals, creating an ethereal glow.

Even the flowing fabric of her dress couldn't fully conceal the slight swell of her belly, though its loose design minimized attention to it.

Every step she took revealed glimpses of her slender legs beneath the gown. Her red heels, encrusted with tiny diamonds, sparkled like stars.

Graceful and radiant, Margaery made her way toward Samwell.

(End of Chapter)