Chapter 378: Labor

In the back garden of Storm's End, Margaery Tyrell, draped in a loose deep-green gown that concealed her prominently swollen belly, walked arm in arm with Samwell Tarly. The two strolled leisurely across the lush green lawn.

Her radiant face shone with happiness, her graceful doe-like eyes brimming with tenderness as they gazed at her husband.

"Melisandre said it would be tomorrow," she murmured, "but there's still no sign of anything happening with my belly."

"What she said might not be exact," Samwell reassured her, stopping to gently wipe the fine beads of sweat from her forehead. "Are you feeling tired?"

"Not too much," Margaery replied with a soft smile at her husband's attentiveness. "Qyburn suggested I walk more—it helps with the delivery."

"But not to the point of exhaustion." Samwell guided her to the garden's central seating area.

Several stone tables and chairs stood beneath a large pomegranate tree laden with ripe red fruit, the air filled with a faint, refreshing aroma.

Samwell brushed off the stone bench, checked its temperature with his hand, and helped Margaery sit. Kneeling beside her, he gently massaged her legs, his touch full of care.

The low-hanging branches of the tree brushed against Margaery. She plucked a pomegranate, broke it open, and popped a few seeds into Samwell's mouth.

"Is it sweet?" she asked.

"Very sweet," he replied, smiling.

Margaery giggled but suddenly froze, clutching her belly with a startled gasp.

"What's wrong?" Samwell asked, alarmed. "Is it starting?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head, a light chuckle escaping her lips. "The little one is just being playful. He kicked me again."

She took his hand and placed it on her belly.

Samwell felt the movement—distinct and full of vitality. He could also feel the rhythm of a heartbeat, steady and strong, which mesmerized him.

Gently stroking her belly, he was overcome by a serene yet powerful feeling of awe.

"Perhaps Melisandre is right—it might be a boy," he murmured.

"Have you decided on a name yet?" Margaery asked.

"I've been considering a few possibilities…" Samwell trailed off, lost in thought.

"Let's wait until the baby is born to decide," Margaery suggested. "What if it's a girl?"

Samwell smiled, not concerned about the baby's gender. Yet, as a king, he couldn't deny that his firstborn son would hold a special significance—the heir to his throne, the future of his dynasty.

But something tugged at the back of his mind—Melisandre's cryptic warning:

"Too few dragons, and they risk extinction. Too many, and there is danger."

Though Samwell had dismissed her words at the time, they lingered like a thorn in his thoughts.

He thought of the Dance of the Dragons, the blood-soaked civil war during King Viserys I's reign when the Targaryen line was at its most populous. That era of prosperity quickly turned to devastation, leaving the Targaryen dynasty and their dragons on the brink of ruin.

Melisandre said that he would have thirteen children in the future and gave such a warning. Although the prophecy in the flames was full of tricks and traps, it was still necessary to take some precautions in advance.

"If it's a boy, I already have a name in mind," Samwell said, his voice firm with decision.

Margaery's eyes lit with curiosity. Before she could press further, Daenerys Targaryen approached, her silver hair glinting in the afternoon sun.

"Sam, Margaery, would you like to see what I've prepared?" Daenerys asked, a playful smile on her lips.

"What is it? A gift?" Samwell asked.

"Yes, a gift for Margaery's baby—and for mine too," Daenerys replied, patting her still-flat stomach with a hopeful look.

"Let's go and see," Samwell said, rising to help Margaery.

Daenerys took Samwell's other arm, linking herself with him as they walked.

"By the way," she asked, "have we received any word from the fleet?"

"Not yet," Samwell replied. "But if the Arbor fleet took the bait, they should be engaging with ours right about now."

"You don't seem worried at all," Daenerys teased.

"There's no need to be," Margaery said confidently. "We'll win for sure."

"Yes," Samwell echoed, though his thoughts betrayed his calm demeanor. We have to win.

War was rife with uncertainty. Despite his faith in the new warships' firepower, they had never been tested in a real battle.

If something went wrong, his plans to cross the Blackwater River and march on King's Landing would be delayed—a setback that would weaken his position in uniting the Seven Kingdoms against the White Walkers.

He had considered joining the naval battle himself, riding his dragon, but Margaery's imminent labor had kept him at Storm's End.

Of course, the more important reason is that dragons are actually not very useful in this kind of naval battle, and he knows that the Arbor fleet has specially installed crossbows to deal with dragons. If he really forces himself to join the battle, There's no telling what might happen, if Cleopatra might get injured.

Instead, he placed his trust in Ser Lucas Dayne and the fleet's capabilities.

---

"Look," Daenerys exclaimed, pointing ahead. "Here's the gift I've been working on."

In the garden, a group of craftsmen were busy building something under Daenerys' direction.

"What are you constructing, Dany?" Margaery asked, her curiosity piqued.

"A playground!" Daenerys announced with a laugh.

She led Margaery closer, pointing at various sections of the project with excitement:

"Over there will be a swing, and there's a slide. That space will have a carousel…"

"And a castle maze," a young, cheerful voice chimed in.

Samwell turned to see Shireen Baratheon, her bright blue eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

"Good day, Your Grace," Shireen said, curtseying formally.

"Call me cousin—or Sam," Samwell said with a warm smile, ruffling her hair.

"Okay, Cousin Sam," Shireen beamed, eagerly explaining the playground's features to the group.

Samwell learned that the idea for the playground had been Shireen's, and Daenerys had embraced it, enlisting a team of builders to make it a reality.

"What a wonderful idea!" Margaery clapped her hands in delight. "The children will adore it! But I think we should add a few more features…"

Her words trailed off as she suddenly froze, her face paling.

"What is it?" Samwell asked, stepping quickly to her side.

"Water… It's running down my legs," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Don't panic." Samwell scooped her into his arms. "Your waters have broken—it's normal. Dany, go and alert Gavin Mander and the midwives."

"On it!" Daenerys replied, rushing toward the keep.

(End of Chapter)