Chapter 537: The Path to Transcendence (Grand Finale)
When Princess Helaena's remains were returned to King's Landing, Queen Alyria fainted from grief.
King Octavian, however, remained eerily calm.
In a steady voice, he issued a single command: Prince Aegon was to bring the culprit, Daeron, to King's Landing within ten days to stand trial for the murder of Princess Helaena.
When the message reached Storm's End, Prince Aegon countered, declaring that it was Princess Helaena who had provoked Daeron. He claimed the incident was Daeron's revenge for Helaena's actions five years prior.
Thus, the conflict between the King and the Prince of Storm's End became open for all to see.
The ten days quickly passed, but the King did not see the repentant arrival of the Prince of Storm's End. Instead, he publicly declared Aegon Caesar a traitor and stripped him of all titles.
This time, the black dragon Drogon did not appear in King's Landing.
Queen Mother Daenerys remained secluded on Dragonstone, seemingly unwilling to intervene in the quarrels of her children.
Likewise, Queen Mother Margaery, weary and heartbroken, left King's Landing for Highgarden.
With the two queens stepping aside, no one was left to mediate the escalating conflict between the King and the Prince of Storm's End.
The King issued a royal summons, calling all loyal lords to King's Landing to assist him in quelling the rebellion.
Meanwhile, Prince Aegon declared that Octavian lacked the legitimacy to rule the Seven Kingdoms. Producing evidence of the King's illegitimate birth, he demanded that the lords of Westeros swear fealty to the rightful heir to the Iron Throne—himself.
The public declarations divided the Seven Kingdoms. Lords, knights, and common folk were forced to take sides, and violence soon erupted.
The scene resembled the Dance of the Dragons from the Targaryen dynasty's history.
Fatefully, the combatants bore uncanny similarities to the factions of that bloody civil war.
Thus, the terms "Greens" and "Blacks" were revived to distinguish the two factions vying for the Iron Throne.
The Greens, led by King Octavian, were associated with Queen Margaery Tyrell, who was known for wearing green gowns in her youth.
The Blacks, representing Daenerys Targaryen's lineage, favored the red and black colors of House Targaryen.
Although the Greens held the mantle of legitimacy, the Blacks had the advantage in power and numbers.
This advantage was especially significant for a family of dragonriders, as a larger family meant more dragons.
House Caesar now had over thirty dragons, though they lacked enough dragonriders to mount them all.
Among these dragons, the most powerful was the white dragon Cleopatra.
Once the mount of the late King Caesar, Cleopatra had not accepted another rider and remained unclaimed.
Many believed this meant King Caesar was not truly dead, as Cleopatra would not take another rider if he were still alive.
After Cleopatra, the strongest dragons were Drogon, ridden by Daenerys Targaryen; Rhaegal, ridden by Jon Snow; and Viserion, ridden by Tyrion Lannister.
Following the Long Night, Jon Snow became Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, stationed at the ruins of the Wall to guard against wildlings. As a sworn brother of the Night's Watch, Jon had vowed not to take part in the conflicts of the Seven Kingdoms, leaving Rhaegal out of the war.
Tyrion Lannister, Duke of Casterly Rock, had a daughter married to Prince Aemond, aligning him with the Blacks.
Daenerys's children—Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond, and Princess Rhaenys—each rode powerful dragons: Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar, named after the legendary dragons of House Targaryen's founders.
Princess Rhaenys had four children, Prince Aegon had two, and Prince Aemond had one, bringing the Black faction's dragon count to twelve.
By contrast, the Greens had only one dragon: the King's mount, Sunfyre.
Princess Helaena's dragon had perished at Storm's End, leaving the Greens with a glaring disadvantage: twelve dragons to one.
In terms of military strength, while the Greens carried the banner of legitimacy, the Blacks still held the upper hand.
The Greens' primary stronghold was the Reach, the heartland of King Octavian's maternal family, House Tyrell. Many lords of the Reach were the first to rally to the King's banner.
However, not all Reach lords responded to the King's summons. For example, Randyll Tarly, Earl of Horn Hill and former Hand of the King, chose neutrality, refusing to take sides.
Dorne initially remained neutral as well. But after Queen Alyria sent a tearful letter to her mother, Duchess Nathalie Dayne, Dorne ultimately marched north to support the King.
Beyond these territories, the Greens found little support.
The Stormlands lords, unsurprisingly, followed their liege lord, Prince Aegon.
The Riverlands, led by the Duke of Riverrun—whose wife was Princess Rhaenys—stood firmly with the Blacks and declared for Aegon.
In the North, the Starks of Winterfell were initially reluctant to choose sides. However, when Prince Aegon arrived at Winterfell on Balerion and spoke privately with Duke Rickon Stark, he convinced the North to back him.
This outcome was unsurprising, given that Rickon Stark's elder brother, Jon Snow, was Daenerys Targaryen's nephew, making the Starks natural allies of the Blacks.
The Vale was expected to support the Greens, as Duke Harold Arryn's son had been married to Princess Helaena. However, despite this personal loss, the Arryns surprisingly sided with the Blacks.
In the Westerlands, many assumed the Lannisters would support the Blacks, given Tyrion Lannister's connection to House Targaryen through blood and marriage. But when Prince Aegon sought Tyrion's support at Casterly Rock, the Duke refused.
"Fight your battles however you wish. The Westerlands will not interfere," Tyrion declared.
Some speculated Tyrion was emulating his father, Tywin Lannister, who had remained neutral during Robert's Rebellion before seizing victory's spoils. Tyrion did not explain his decision, merely forbidding the Westerlands from participating in the war.
Despite the Lannisters' neutrality, the Blacks clearly held the upper hand in both dragons and military power.
After realizing his precarious position in Westeros, King Octavian turned his sights across the Narrow Sea for assistance.
A brief note here: following the Long Night, the Seven Kingdoms spent a decade rebuilding before turning their attention outward. Their primary targets for expansion were the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea.
Under Caesar's rule, Braavos—the wealthiest and most powerful of the Free Cities—had been conquered and turned into a province of the Iron Throne.
Building on this foundation, and with the advantage of advanced naval ships and cannons, the Royal Navy quickly dominated the major sea routes of the Narrow Sea, forcing the remaining Free Cities to surrender one by one.
Currently, all nine Free Cities and the three cities of Slaver's Bay had been incorporated into the Iron Throne's domain.
However, due to the challenges of long-distance communication, the Iron Throne's control over these overseas provinces was limited, relying heavily on local governors to manage regional affairs.
With his position in Westeros weakening, Octavian turned to these overseas provinces for reinforcements. He also sought to strengthen ties with the governors, marrying the daughter of Utherion Antalion, Governor of Braavos, in a calculated political alliance.
This marriage was not only a means to secure the loyalty of the overseas territories but also an attempt to ensure the continuation of his bloodline.
After a hurried and simple wedding ceremony, Octavian threw himself entirely into preparations for war.
At this time, the loyalist forces from the Reach and Dorne had gathered at Bitterbridge, facing off across the Mander River against the Stormland army personally led by Prince Aegon.
Meanwhile, the northern army, representing the combined forces of the North, Riverlands, and the Vale, had marched south along the King's Road. They crossed the Neck, gathered near the Trident, and began advancing on King's Landing.
On the Narrow Sea, the Royal Navy commanded by Prince Aemond clashed with a coalition fleet from the overseas provinces at the Massar Cape.
The stage was set for battle on all fronts.
---
On the morning of the decisive day, King Octavian donned his custom-forged golden armor and a sky-blue cloak before heading to the Great Sept.
There, he knelt before the Seven, offering prayers for victory, before approaching the crystal coffin in the center of the sept.
"Father, if you truly love me, grant me your blessing in this war," Octavian whispered, leaning down to kiss the coffin's lid.
As he turned to leave, he suddenly froze.
The man within the coffin—Samwell Caesar—had opened his eyes. Those deep, ocean-like brown eyes calmly gazed at him.
Octavian rubbed his eyes, thinking he was hallucinating. But no matter how many times he blinked, the sight remained unchanged.
"F-Father… how… how are you awake?" Octavian stammered.
Samwell sat up slowly, his voice tinged with resignation. "If I hadn't woken up, you all would have torn this family apart."
Octavian stared, slack-jawed, unable to process what he was seeing.
When his father stepped out of the coffin and stood before him, the flood of emotions—fear, anger, sorrow, guilt—overwhelmed Octavian. The King fell to his knees, clutching Samwell's leg as he sobbed uncontrollably.
The Kingsguard stationed outside the sept heard the cries and rushed in, only to stop dead in their tracks at the sight before them.
Samwell waved a dismissive hand, signaling for the guards to leave. Then, patting his son on the head, he sighed. "So, you've finally realized being a king isn't easy?"
Octavian said nothing, merely continuing to cry like a child who had been bullied.
When he eventually calmed down, a deep shame crept over him. He couldn't bring himself to look his father in the eye.
Samwell, however, merely said, "Stay here at home. I'll gather everyone back and spank them one by one."
Octavian's shame deepened. Reflecting on the chaos he had allowed to unfold, he felt as though he were in a surreal dream. How did things get this bad?
Without waiting for his son's response, Samwell left the sept.
Outside, the white dragon Cleopatra had already descended upon the Red Keep. Her massive, shadowy form engulfed the castle, and her triumphant roar shook the heavens.
Samwell mounted the dragon's back and took off, heading north. Along the way, he encountered the northern army near Harrenhal.
The sight of the white dragon in the sky left many young soldiers dumbfounded, but the older veterans—especially those who had fought in the Long Night—were overcome with emotion, some even shedding tears.
"Long live Emperor Caesar!"
"Glory to Emperor Caesar!"
The cheers rippled across the army like waves. As Cleopatra soared above, the soldiers below dropped to their knees like stalks of wheat bent by the wind.
Samwell did not descend, continuing his flight south to Bitterbridge.
When the opposing armies of the Greens and Blacks saw Cleopatra in the sky, their reactions were nearly identical.
Prince Aegon listened to the older lords around him shouting his father's name, his heart filled with disbelief.
The word "father" was both familiar and distant to him. He had grown up hearing the legendary tales of Samwell Caesar, yet had never experienced the warmth of his father's embrace.
He knew everything he had—his name, his status, his power—came from the man riding the white dragon.
"Father!" Aegon called out, his voice cracking.
But there was no response. Cleopatra simply flew overhead, heading further east.
---
At the Massar Cape, the naval battle between Prince Aemond's fleet and the overseas coalition was in full swing. Oars splashed, arrows flew, and cannons roared.
But the cacophony abruptly ceased with a single deafening roar.
Cleopatra's massive wings cast a shadow over the entire battlefield. The sailors and soldiers alike stared upward, their jaws slack.
Moments later, cries of "Caesar!" erupted from the fleet, spreading rapidly.
Prince Aemond stood frozen, stunned by the sight. Finally, he let out a long sigh and waved his hand weakly.
"Cease fire. Lower the sails. We're heading home."
As the fleet began to withdraw, Aemond climbed atop his dragon, Vhagar, and attempted to follow Cleopatra. But the white dragon was far too fast, disappearing into the horizon in mere moments.
When Aemond finally reached King's Landing, he encountered his brother Aegon, who had arrived on Balerion.
The two brothers exchanged knowing glances before proceeding together to the throne room.
There, King Octavian stood, not on the Iron Throne, but on the floor beneath it.
The three brothers did not speak or argue. They simply stood in silence, like children awaiting punishment.
But Samwell had little interest in scolding his sons. Instead, he sought out Gavin Mander, one of his oldest confidants and the current Master of Whisperers.
"Your Majesty," Gavin said with a wry smile. "If you hadn't returned in time, this entire kingdom might've been torn apart."
Samwell looked at the man, noting the gray streaks in his hair. After a pause, he retrieved a flask of brandy, poured two cups, and handed one to Gavin.
Gavin drank it in one gulp, then bowed his head. "I failed you, My King."
Samwell said nothing, pouring another cup.
Gavin drank again, then produced a piece of parchment listing the names of conspirators. "These are the ones involved in the scheming."
Samwell didn't look at the list. He already knew who had been plotting against him. His expression was one of sadness rather than surprise.
"I've failed you," Gavin repeated, tears streaming down his face.
"Enough," Samwell said, placing a hand on Gavin's shoulder. "You followed me when you had nothing, risking everything. But as time passed, you gained wealth, family, and attachments. It's only natural that your priorities shifted. Perhaps this role should've gone to a eunuch with no ties to anyone."
You're right... cough cough cough..." Gavin smiled, but suddenly coughed up blood. The brandy was poisoned—a fact he had known.
But when he saw the king pouring him another glass of wine, Gavin picked it up and drank it all without hesitation..
Samwell also drank from his cup and said,
"I will spare the lives of your family members unless they are directly involved."
"Thank you, Your Majesty, for your mercy!" Gavin knelt before Samwell, bowing deeply with solemn reverence. But he could not rise again.
Blood trickled from his lips as he collapsed, lifeless, onto the floor.
Samwell continued to drink quietly, unaffected by the poison that had claimed his old friend. His body, long resistant to such things, remained unharmed. But his heart weighed heavy. Gavin Mander had been one of his earliest and most loyal allies. To see him fall so far was a bitter pill to swallow.
Yet Samwell was not entirely surprised. Human nature, after all, was a complex and often contradictory thing.
In the face of a life-or-death crisis, a coward can become incredibly brave, a selfish person can sacrifice themselves, and a mean person can perform a noble feat;
But in a peaceful and comfortable environment, people will fight to the death for their own interests and become extremely despicable, selfish and cowardly.
Gavin was but one among many who had succumbed to corruption.
Samwell suddenly felt that perhaps the long night was not entirely without benefits.
His return was due to the fact that he did not want his descendants to kill each other and follow the old path of the Targaryens. On the other hand, he also did not want to pursue R'hllor's traces in vain.
The old fellow was determined to play hide-and-seek with him.
He had been searching for the other party in the vast sea of elements for so many years, but still found nothing, so he simply gave up.
Samwell always felt that R'hllor's path seemed to have gone astray.
The power of faith is indeed strong, but it does not seem to be a way to transcend.
As his mental power surged to a limit, Samwell's perception of the world also reached its peak.
He had a vague premonition that the true path to transcendence, or the path to becoming a god, was not in the elemental sea, but in the real world.
Those poor creatures who attempted to become gods in the elemental sea may have been on the wrong path from the very beginning.
Before he knew it, the pot of poisoned wine that Samwell brought had been finished.
Samwell stood and crushed the empty flask under his heel, leaving the Mander estate behind.
---
Returning to the Red Keep, Samwell entered the throne room, where his three sons awaited him. They stood silent and stiff, like frightened children.
"Father," they said in unison, their voices subdued.
Looking at them, Samwell felt a mix of emotions. Despite their grown bodies, their gazes reminded him of the vulnerability of boys seeking approval.
He threw the parchment containing Gavin's list of conspirators at Octavian's feet and scolded him sharply.
"How did I end up with such foolish sons? You're so blind that you didn't even realize you were being used as pawns! And here you are, tearing each other apart over it!"
The three brothers stiffened. Octavian bent to pick up the list, scanning the names with growing shock.
"Father, are you saying… someone has been secretly manipulating us?"
Samwell scoffed. "It's obvious. The list has the names. Do what you will—punish them, exile them, or execute them. But if you're still determined to fight, settle it between yourselves with a duel. Leave the innocent soldiers out of it."
With that, Samwell turned to leave, ignoring the stunned expressions on his sons' faces.
"Father!" Octavian called out, running after him. "Since you've returned, why not reclaim the throne? Let us follow your rule once more!"
Samwell stopped and turned, his piercing gaze silencing Octavian.
"I gave up the throne to you. It's your responsibility to rule. If you think you're incapable, fine. Step aside and let one of your brothers take over."
With that, Samwell left the throne room, mounted Cleopatra, and soared eastward.
---
Crossing the Blackwater Bay, Samwell arrived at Dragonstone, where he was greeted by his wife, Daenerys Targaryen.
"I knew you would return," she said, smiling with the same radiance she had always carried.
Samwell shrugged with a faint smile. "You stopped trying to stop them. Were you just waiting for me to come back and clean up the mess?"
Daenerys chuckled softly. "Not entirely. I always knew that someday, I wouldn't be here to stop them. They were born of dragons; their blood runs hot. Let them clash if they must. It's their nature."
Samwell couldn't help but notice the silver threads in Daenerys's once-flawless hair and the faint wrinkles etching her face.
Time, it seemed, had touched her in ways it had not touched him.
Sighing inwardly, Samwell changed the subject. "How about we visit Highgarden? The Mander River is lovely this time of year. We could invite Margaery and Nathalie and spend some time together."
Daenerys shook her head gently. "I've always preferred the sea."
She walked to the edge of the cliffs, staring out at the waves crashing against the rocks below.
Samwell stood beside her silently. He knew that while the final battle between the Greens and the Blacks had been averted, the scars left behind could never fully heal.
---
For a month, Samwell stayed with Daenerys on Dragonstone, cherishing every moment. Then he traveled to Highgarden, where he reunited with Margaery Tyrell and, unexpectedly, Nathalie Dayne. It seemed she had anticipated his visit.
For years, Samwell journeyed between Dragonstone and Highgarden, occasionally visiting Starfall, spending time with his three wives in turn.
---
Thirty years passed.
One day, while staying on Dragonstone, Samwell realized that Daenerys's life was nearing its end. Her breathing grew shallow, and her voice grew faint.
"Sam… am I dying?" she whispered, lying in his arms.
"You are returning to the embrace of the Mother," Samwell replied softly.
Though his strength had surpassed mortal limits, even Samwell could not halt the cycle of life and death. Not even the gods could alter that truth.
Daenerys showed little fear, only a serene acceptance.
"Take me to ride Drogon one last time," she said.
"Of course."
Samwell carried her frail body to Drogon's back. The black dragon, sensing the moment, let out a mournful cry before leaping into the sky.
The pair circled Dragonstone three times before Daenerys whispered again.
"Sam… take me to Highgarden."
Samwell obeyed, and Drogon flew south.
---
At Highgarden.
After landing, everyone from House Tyrell hurried over to greet them.
Margaery Tyrell, who was also very old, was sitting in a wheelchair, pushed by her maid to see her old friend for the last time.
After many years, the two Queen Mother finally met again.
There was no quarrel, no resentment. The two smiled at each other, as if they had returned to the scene when they first met at Storm's End.
Daenerys stayed in Highgarden for one night and talked with Margaery all night. Then the next day, she was carried by her husband again and rode on the black dragon and soared into the sky.
"Where else do you want to go?"
"To Meereen...." she whispered.
Crossing the Narrow Sea, Drogon carried them over the ruins of Valyria and finally arrived at Slaver's Bay.
Once, Daenerys had dreamed of freeing all the slaves in Slaver's Bay, only to be met with insurmountable resistance. Defeated, she followed Samwell back to Westeros.
After unifying Westeros, the Iron Throne sent its armies to reconquer the three city-states of Slaver's Bay, abolishing slavery there once and for all.
This act caused immense trouble for the Iron Throne, turning them into enemies of much of the known world.
But with the Royal Navy's technological advantages, they dominated the seas, swiftly defeating all challengers.
Daenerys visited Meereen several times afterward to see how its people lived. Each time, she was welcomed with fervent enthusiasm.
This time was no different.
As Drogon's black shadow darkened the skies above Meereen, thousands of people flooded the streets, raising their hands in reverence and shouting,
"Mhysa! Mhysa!"
"They're calling you Mother," Samwell whispered in her ear.
Daenerys smiled warmly, waving to the adoring crowds below.
After some time, she leaned back into Samwell's arms, exhaustion overtaking her.
"Sam, take me home," she said softly.
"Alright."
Samwell guided Drogon westward, returning to Dragonstone once more.
It was the place of Daenerys's birth.
Ninety years ago, a violent storm had ravaged Dragonstone, destroying much of the royal fleet and shattering the last hopes of House Targaryen.
But at the same time, a new life, with a special mission and hope, was born on Dragonstone.
Daenerys "Stormborn" Targaryen.
Now, Dragonstone was calm and serene, and here, on the back of a dragon and in her husband's arms, Daenerys completed her legendary journey.
Samwell felt his wife's last breath leave her body.
Something stirred within him. He lifted his head and gazed toward the far horizon.
Through the endless night sky and boundless mist, he saw a face—terrified and trembling.
"R'hllor," Samwell muttered, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "No wonder you wanted Daenerys dead. She was the reincarnation of the Daughter of Light."
Daenerys's death had revealed the location of the Lord of Light, R'hllor. A mysterious connection between the two had laid bare R'hllor's position in the Elemental Sea.
Through that connection, Samwell could easily return to the Elemental Sea, find R'hllor, kill him, and end everything.
But Samwell chose not to.
Instead, he carried his wife back to the ground.
He gathered the people and held a traditional Targaryen funeral rite—a cremation—to bid her farewell.
---
After the funeral, Samwell traveled to Highgarden.
He could feel that Margaery's time was drawing near as well.
"Has Daenerys passed?" she asked softly when he arrived.
"Yes."
"Then I suppose I'll be next…"
"I'll stay with you," Samwell reassured her.
Margaery chuckled, her voice tinged with teasing bitterness.
"No, you won't. You're practically a god now."
Samwell shook his head. "Becoming a god is no simple feat. My body might endure for a few hundred more years, but it will eventually decay. After that, I'd be no different from the so-called Seven, Old Gods, or Red God—just another pitiful prisoner trapped in the Elemental Sea."
Margaery blinked, her expression puzzled. She didn't seem to fully understand.
Samwell didn't elaborate. Instead, he changed the subject.
"Do you remember the first time we met?"
"I do." A smile spread across Margaery's face, soft and nostalgic. "You were so chubby back then."
"I was," Samwell replied, his tone wistful. "When I came to Highgarden, you personally knighted me. I still remember the red silk gown you wore that day—you were as beautiful as a summer rose."
Margaery's smile deepened, radiating a beauty that had never faded.
"Sam, I want to knight you one last time."
"Of course."
Samwell knelt at her bedside, drawing his greatsword and handing it to her. With a gentle nudge of his mental strength, he guided the blade to rest on his shoulder.
Margaery gazed down at her husband, and for a moment, she was transported back in time. She spoke softly, her voice as steady as it had been decades ago:
"I, Margaery Tyrell, daughter of Mace Tyrell, Warden of the South, High Marshal of the Reach, and Duchess of Highgarden, hereby knight Samwell Caesar as a Knight of the Frontier.
"All lands unclaimed in the Reach are yours to settle. All people without lords are yours to protect. May the Father grant you justice, may the Mother grant you mercy, may the Warrior grant you courage, may the Crone grant you wisdom, and may the Stranger grant you the strength to overcome all enemies."
Samwell solemnly placed his hand over his heart and declared,
"I, Samwell Caesar, under the witness of the Seven, swear by the spirit of my noble ancestor, Garth Greenhand, to dedicate my loyalty to the great Duke Mace. From this day forward, your will shall be my creed, and your sword my direction. I will guard this honor with my life!"
As he finished his oath, Samwell noticed something peculiar. His attribute panel—the source of his strength—began to fade.
His strength, agility, and unparalleled mental power dissolved into glimmering specks of light, merging into his body.
The transformation startled him but didn't alarm him.
Very little could shake him now.
Samwell remembered that the attribute panel had first appeared after Margaery's original knighting ceremony. Now, reliving that moment seemed to be triggering another change.
As the panel vanished, Samwell didn't feel any weaker. Instead, his control over his abilities seemed to grow sharper, more refined.
When he looked back, Margaery's eyes had closed.
Samwell rose, kissed her forehead, and called for the family members waiting outside.
The sounds of mourning filled the air.
---
After Margaery's burial, Samwell considered taking Nathalie Dayne back to Starfall, but she had another destination in mind.
"I want to go to Eagle's Nest," she said.
Samwell didn't refuse.
The Eagles Nesthad changed greatly over the years. Its strategic location near the Rushmoor River and its production of white brandy, a drink renowned worldwide, had turned it into a thriving city of over 300,000 people.
When Samwell arrived, the townsfolk greeted him with wild enthusiasm.
However, Samwell just wanted to seek quietness, so he took Natalie to build a small wooden house on a remote beach. He caught fish and cooked every day, watched the sunset and sunrise, and lived the life of an ordinary fisherman.
Three years later, Nathalie passed away in Samwell's arms.
At that moment, the sun rose, casting golden light across the Summer Sea like a pathway to eternity.
Samwell carried Nathalie's body to Starfall for burial. Then, mounting Cleopatra, he wandered aimlessly across Westeros.
---
The sun rose and sets, and time is merciless.
Samwell outlived his son Octavian, then his grandson. One by one, the faces he knew faded into memory, until the world became entirely unfamiliar.
The Seven Kingdoms grew stronger than ever, spanning the continents of Westeros and Essos. House Caesar reached the height of its power, commanding over 200 dragons—a force even greater than the Valyrian Freehold at its peak.
Samwell, as the architect and guardian of this empire, was revered and worshipped as a living god.
But for Samwell, the passing centuries brought not glory, but an overwhelming loneliness.
The vicissitudes of the world were like a never-ending river, unfolding before him, in full view.
At a certain moment, Samwell stood on the top of the Red Mountains, watching the dawn light tear through the darkness, and suddenly he seemed to realize something.
His once-youthful face wrinkled. His straight posture stooped. In mere moments, Samwell aged into a frail old man.
Samwell could feel it—the fire of his life was dimming, growing weaker with each passing moment, as if it could extinguish at any time.
Is my body finally succumbing?
Samwell understood this truth. He also knew that the only way to survive now was to let his soul abandon his physical form and return to the Elemental Sea.
This would grant him eternal existence.
But the price of such eternity was becoming a pitiable prisoner, a so-called "god" bound to the confines of the Elemental Sea.
Cleopatra seemed to sense her master's condition. The white dragon turned her head, letting out a mournful cry.
Samwell reached out, gently patting her neck with a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry. I won't leave you."
Suddenly, he straightened his back, his eyes glinting with renewed determination.
To relinquish the body was to relinquish all hope.
In that moment, Samwell realized something profound.
All his scattered memories, like fragmented beads, were suddenly strung together in perfect clarity, flooding his mind with understanding.
"You've all misunderstood," he murmured. "The Elemental Sea is both a sanctuary and a cage. It offers fleeting solace but severs the path to true transcendence."
"R'hllor, no matter how many Long Nights you conjure, your efforts are destined to fail."
"True divinity lies not in the heavens but within humanity itself."
Suddenly, the fire of Samwell's life reignited with ferocity.
His wrinkled, aged skin began to smooth. His hunched back straightened, and the vitality of youth returned to his body with astonishing speed.
He closed his eyes, then opened them sharply.
Samwell found himself standing in a boundless void.
Before him rotated an enormous green planet, encircled by a dazzling ring of multicolored light.
"This," he said softly, "is true transcendence."
Within the radiant band of light, Samwell easily located the presence of R'hllor.
If he wished, he could crush this so-called "god" like an insect—this being who had once seemed insurmountable.
But at the moment of action, Samwell hesitated.
Born in adversity, perished in comfort.
Perhaps humanity needed the threat of the Long Night. Perhaps it needed an eternal fear to drive it forward.
Samwell decided to let R'hllor live, to allow him to remain the world's great adversary. After all, no matter how much chaos R'hllor caused, he could never escape Samwell's grasp.
With a single thought, Samwell returned to the Red Mountains.
Cleopatra flapped her massive wings in excitement, letting out joyful roars that echoed across the peaks.
Samwell's gaze swept across the lands below, eventually settling on a golden beach along the Summer Sea.
There, three little girls were playing and laughing, their carefree voices ringing out like bells.
The eldest had chestnut curls and gentle eyes as pure as a fawn's. Behind her followed a girl with silver hair and violet eyes, her beauty otherworldly and ethereal. The youngest, chubby and endearing, trailed after her sisters with a playful bounce.
The golden glow of the sunset bathed them in warmth, its light soft and tender.
Their laughter carried over the sound of the waves, reaching far into the distance.
Watching them, Samwell felt an uncontrollable smile spread across his face.
Eternal life did not necessarily mean eternal loneliness.
(The End)