Chapter 248: The Wedding

As night fell, the banquet hall of Bronze Gate glowed brightly with lanterns. The faint tang of blood still lingered in the air, but it was masked by the scent of perfumed candles. Inside, a wedding was underway, uniting House Peake's Ser Armand with Lady Ally of House Buckler.

Just that morning, the two houses had been locked in combat, yet by nightfall, they were bound together in marriage. Such was the paradox of the times.

The wedding had been arranged with the insistence of Lord Randyll, readily endorsed by Lord Peake and agreed to by Lord Buckler. It served as a testament to the newly-formed alliance between the Reach and the Stormlands, a bridge between the two regions, and the start of a new chapter for the Stormlands. This wedding went beyond a personal union; it symbolized a strategic alliance between two regions, a sign that the Stormlands were entering a new era. Everyone understood this implicitly.

Standing at the front, the septon held a copy of The Seven-Pointed Star and addressed the newlyweds with a solemn voice:

"Before the Seven and in sight of all men, I hereby declare Ser Arman Peake and Lady Ally Buckler husband and wife. From this day forth, they are one body, one heart, and one soul, bound for eternity. Let none attempt to part them, lest they incur a curse."

The newlyweds exchanged vows and kissed—despite having been strangers only a day before.

Lady Ally's face looked pale with apprehension at her fate, while Ser Arman smiled triumphantly. As the second son of Lord Peake, he knew he wouldn't inherit Starpike, so marrying Lord Buckler's daughter was a stroke of fortune. After all, though Lord Buckler had a son, the future remained uncertain.

The Reach nobles erupted in cheers, while those from the Stormlands offered more restrained applause. No one, however, dared voice disapproval.

Once the ceremony ended, the feast began.

Due to the short notice, the banquet was anything but grand, with most of the food consisting of field rations and simple roasted meats and salads. Fortunately, there was no shortage of fine wine, as nearly all of House Buckler's wine cellars had been emptied.

Since the Reach soldiers were still on campaign, they had no formal attire and attended in plain linen shirts. By comparison, the Stormland nobles looked more presentable. But the real issue was the glaringly imbalanced ratio of men to women.

The Reach forces had no women with them—certainly not the camp followers—so the Stormlands attendees had to make up the difference. Lord Buckler brought every female member of his household to the hall, from elderly ladies of sixty to young girls barely ten. Even his illegitimate daughters were brought in to make up the numbers, yet there were still far too few women.

Samwell spotted "the Beauty" Brienne of Tarth in the crowd. Having sparred with him earlier in the day, she had now removed her armor and donned a dress. In Samwell's view, however, the armor had suited her far better. In women's clothing, Brienne looked awkward and ungainly, lacking any charm and appearing out of place.

Throughout the feast, she hunched over in her seat, the confidence she had shown during the daytime battles now replaced by shy, uncomfortable reticence. But as the music began to play, some of the Reach knights came to her, inviting her to dance, out of sheer necessity—there simply weren't enough women to go around.

Samwell, for courtesy's sake, rose to dance one round with Lady Buckler, then another with the bride herself, before returning to his seat. As he was enjoying his drink, he noticed an elderly man wearing a maester's chain enter the hall and hand a letter to Lord Buckler.

After reading it, Lord Buckler's face changed, and he rose to approach Lord Randyll, who sat with Samwell on his left.

Leaning in, Lord Buckler spoke quietly to Lord Randyll. "My lord, news has arrived from King's Landing. Stannis Baratheon has suffered a disastrous defeat in the Battle of Blackwater. His entire fleet was burned to ashes, with only a handful of ships spared."

Lord Randyll looked momentarily stunned. "Stannis had the upper hand at sea; how could his fleet have been burned?"

"Likely wildfire," Samwell replied, knowing the answer well.

Lord Buckler glanced at Samwell. "Perhaps. The letter does not specify."

Lord Randyll nodded thoughtfully. "And Stannis himself? Did he die or escape?"

"The letter doesn't say."

"Then it seems the Lannisters don't know either," Samwell remarked, smiling. "Which suggests Stannis might still be alive."

"Possibly," agreed Lord Buckler. "If they had confirmation of his death, they'd have proclaimed it. However, the letter also urges Stormland lords to gather their forces at Storm's End to avoid being defeated piecemeal by the Reach army."

Samwell laughed heartily. "King's Landing never expected Bronze Gate to fall so quickly."

"Indeed," Lord Buckler replied, with a hint of unease. "They also could never have anticipated the destructive power of your dragon."

Samwell offered him a cryptic smile, saying nothing further.

Lord Randyll spoke again. "With Stannis's forces in shambles, many Stormland nobles may turn to the bastard Lord of Storm's End. And now, with orders from King's Landing, even more will rally to defend the fortress."

"With Bronze secure, the nobles to the north will be unable to cross, but to the south…" Samwell trailed off.

"Then we must quicken our march," he suggested. "We should intercept those nobles before they reach Storm's End."

Lord Randyll nodded. "At dawn, you'll lead a cavalry unit forward. Find the Stormlander forces heading for Storm's End and crush them in open field."

"Understood," Samwell replied.

At that moment, a commotion broke out in the hall.

Looking over, Samwell saw that "the Beauty" Brienne had started a fight with a Reach knight.

"Sam, handle this," Lord Randyll said, giving his son a pointed look.

Reading his father's intent, Samwell stood and made his way over.

If he wished to govern the Stormlands effectively, he would have to manage the tensions between the Reach and Stormlands nobility carefully, ensuring the support of Stormland houses without alienating his own allies.

"Enough!" Samwell shouted, pushing through the onlookers.

Given his standing among the Reach soldiers, the knights instantly backed off. Even Brienne stopped and lowered her gaze at his approach.

Once the disturbance settled, Samwell asked, "What happened?"

He turned his gaze to Ser Mark Mullendore, a knight of Highgarden and the man whom Brienne had been assaulting. The two were well acquainted, yet Mark visibly shrank under Samwell's penetrating gaze.

He's judging me, Mark thought uneasily, lowering his head. "I only tried to kiss Lady Brienne, but I didn't expect her to react so fiercely…"

Brienne's face flushed red at his words, and the onlookers exchanged bemused glances.

At a dance, a kiss between partners wasn't unheard of—if consensual. But…Brienne of Tarth?

Many began to speculate whether Ser Mark had an unusual preference or simply an interest in Tarth's holdings.

Recalling a minor episode from the original story, Samwell's expression darkened. "Ser Mark, why did you try to kiss Lady Brienne?"

"I…I…" Under Samwell's intense scrutiny, Mark found himself unable to lie.

Samwell shifted his gaze to Ser Hyle Hunt, who had also invited Brienne to dance earlier. "And you, Ser Hyle. Did you also try to kiss her?"

Ser Hyle waved his hands, denying it, but Brienne interjected, "He gave me flowers, even though I didn't accept them."

The crowd's expressions grew more peculiar.

Samwell then turned to another knight who had danced with Brienne. "And you, Ser Ben Bushy? Care to explain?"

Ser Ben looked away, visibly uncomfortable. "We…we were just having a bit of fun…"

"What sort of fun?" Samwell pressed.

At last, Ser Mark confessed. The men had made a cruel bet on who could claim Brienne's first kiss.

It was a vicious game, especially hurtful to a woman like Brienne.

The crowd's laughter faded, replaced by somber looks.

Meanwhile, Brienne stood trembling, jaw clenched as she glared at the knights, as though she might leap at them.

"This is not behavior befitting a knight," Samwell declared sternly. "Now, the three of you will apologize to Lady Brienne and ask for her forgiveness."

Under Samwell's glare, the three knights reluctantly complied, muttering their apologies.

Brienne, eyes red, shoved through the crowd and strode out, ending the spectacle.

The banquet resumed, but the festive atmosphere was gone. And with another day of marching ahead, Lord Randyll soon dismissed the soldiers to rest.

(End of Chapter)