Chapter 190: The King-Slayer

"The King-Slayer," Jaime Lannister, had seemed lost in thought moments before, so he hadn't reacted immediately. But when he saw his sister's panic, he quickly realized something was wrong and charged toward Lord Eddard Stark.

Yet Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, stepped in his way. "Stand down, Ser Jaime. Lord Eddard has the right to speak!"

"The Queen ordered him to stop."

"Under what authority?" Ser Barristan's stance was unwavering.

"Treason! Eddard Stark is committing treason!" Cersei cried, frantically pushing her son forward. "Command them to seize him now!"

Joffrey, completely bewildered and failing to grasp what was unfolding, followed his mother's urgent cues and turned to the Kingsguard knights behind him, ordering, "Seize Eddard Stark!"

Five Kingsguard knights unsheathed their swords in unison, and Sandor "the Hound" Clegane rushed forward as well.

"Lannister traitors!" came a thunderous shout from the Northern lords' section. Lord Jon Umber, a towering figure, surged forward, and a group of Northern lords charged behind him, yelling, "Protect Lord Eddard!"

Chaos erupted in the hall.

The lords of the Reach and the Crownlands remained seated, many of them now realizing what was happening and watching the scene with amused or smug expressions.

Amid the pandemonium, Lord Eddard Stark continued reading aloud from the book as if undisturbed: "In the 94th year after the Conquest, Lady Moretta Lannister of House Lannister married Ser Farson Baratheon of House Baratheon, and the following year, she bore twins—both with black hair..."

Around him, knights of House Lannister and the Northern lords were already locked in combat.

In the midst of this confusion, Samwell quietly advanced, his gaze fixed firmly on the King.

Everyone's attention was focused on Eddard Stark and the chaos that had erupted around him. No one noticed the small lord from the Reach who was now slipping close to the king.

"In the 37th year after the Conquest, Lady Nyalla Baratheon of House Baratheon wed Ser Dillon Lannister of House Lannister. She bore him three sons, all with black hair," Eddard concluded, closing the book with a thud. He raised his hand and pointed directly at Joffrey, declaring in a powerful voice, "Joffrey is not the blood of the late King Robert. He is a bastard born of Cersei and her brother Jaime's incestuous union—a false king!"

The words "false king" caused an uproar among the crowd.

Cersei shrieked in fury, while Joffrey's face turned crimson with rage, and he bellowed, "Lies! Lies! Eddard Stark is lying! Kill him! Kill him!"

At that moment, an eagle's cry pierced the air.

A massive, gleaming sword dropped from the sky, slamming down into the high dais with a thunderous clang, leaving a web of cracks in the stone floor.

Samwell had arrived just as the sword struck, seizing its hilt and surging forward with a mighty swing!

Dawn was unleashed, trailing a fiery red arc behind it.

It looked like a crimson comet streaking across the heavens.

"Stop him!" someone finally shouted, noticing Samwell's approach.

"Help! Help!" Joffrey shrieked in panic, his voice cracking like a frantic, honking goose.

The Kingsguard had finally spotted the Reach lord charging toward the King with sword in hand, but Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander, stood still. Ser Mandon Moore hesitated and made no move, and while Ser Boros Blount did draw his sword, he intentionally delayed his advance.

The remaining four Kingsguard knights, however, held to their oaths. Led by Jaime Lannister, they rushed to intercept Samwell.

Their white-scaled armor and pure white cloaks formed a wall of white between Samwell and the king.

Facing four of the finest knights in the Seven Kingdoms, Samwell felt no fear. His momentum was unstoppable, and the massive sword in his hands shimmered with veins of fiery gold, blazing with a fierce light.

He swung his sword.

The fire erupted like dragon flame, devouring the white wall in an instant.

The Kingsguard's steel armor melted like butter under the scorching blaze of the sword's flame.

Ser Arys Oakheart was cleaved in two, Ser Meryn Trant's head was sliced clean off, and Ser Preston Greenfield's throat melted away as though he had been touched by molten iron. Only Jaime Lannister managed to dodge aside but lost his sword hand in the process.

In one sweeping arc, Samwell had struck down three of the four Kingsguard before him.

The flames from the fiery swing left a vicious scar across the air, reminiscent of the inferno that had consumed the Sept five days earlier.

In that flickering firelight, the images of the seven warriors singing the Song of the Seven appeared and vanished again—Lord Yohn Royce's final cry, Oberyn Martell's molten face, Dickon Tarly's cold casket…all merged and faded away, leaving only the image of a red comet blazing across the sky.

The fiery blur of Dawn stretched out like a comet's crimson tail as it cut into Joffrey's chest.

In that instant, the blazing heat of the sword incinerated the king's beating heart.

Joffrey's face twisted in agony. His mouth gaped wide as he tried to scream, but a surge of blood poured from his throat, choking off the sound.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Everyone was struck speechless, watching the scene in stunned silence.

Even Eddard Stark, who had orchestrated this revelation, was astonished that Samwell had actually taken the step of killing the King.

He had dared to kill the king—even a false one!

Then, Cersei's shrill scream shattered the silence, and time began to move again.

"No! No, no, no, no!" Cersei's voice rang out in hysterical desperation. "Father above! Stop him! Save my son! Save your King!"

But no one moved.

The Northern lords looked on with hidden satisfaction, the lords of the Reach with amusement, and the lords of the Crownlands with cold indifference…

No one reached for their swords in the king's defense.

The Hound, Sandor Clegane, had drawn his weapon, but even he didn't step forward.

Though he had charged forward alongside the Kingsguard, the sight of the blazing fire had driven him to retreat in terror.

His scarred face contorted with horror as he visibly trembled, like a man haunted by some unspeakable memory.

In the deadly silence that followed, Samwell calmly drew his sword from Joffrey's chest, letting the lifeless body slump to the floor.

He turned, letting his gaze sweep slowly over the hall, and then, with the bloodied sword still in his hand, he began to walk out of the hall, one deliberate step at a time.

The gathered nobles parted before him, silently clearing a path for the king-slayer.

Cersei flung herself over her son's body, screaming, "Stop him! Stop him! He killed your king! He killed your king!"

Still, no one moved.

The lords of the North, the Reach, and the Crownlands simply watched as the man who had just slain their king walked away.

Perhaps they were paralyzed by the raw power they had just witnessed. Perhaps none were willing to avenge a false king. Or perhaps each had privately harbored the desire to do what Samwell had done.

Finally, someone did step forward.

It was Ser Robar Royce.

But he didn't come to stop Samwell; instead, he placed himself protectively behind him, turning to face Cersei and the onlookers. Without a word, he seemed to declare:

"If you wish to seize the Lord of Samwell, you will have to face me first."

Samwell nodded in gratitude to the son of Runestone, then calmly departed.

The King, isolated and scorned, was dead.

And the killer walked away in plain view of all, unchallenged.

Leaving the hall, Samwell sheathed his massive sword and slung it over his back. Mounting his waiting steed, he urged it forward at a gallop.

The soldiers stationed within the city had no idea that the king lay dead. And even if they knew, how many of them would willingly risk their lives for him?

They had bled and died to take Skyreach, only for the King to order it returned to the Dornish with a wave of his hand.

Had Joffrey dared approach his own soldiers without guards, they likely would have killed him themselves.

As Samwell neared the outskirts of the encampment, he slowed his horse.

There, he saw a familiar figure.

"Lady Margaery?"

"Samwell?" Margaery started, clearly surprised to see him. She wore a simple white dress, absent of any jewelry or finery, her brown hair slightly disheveled and dotted with blood. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead.

Glancing past her at the field hospital, Samwell understood.

"You're tending the wounded?"

"Just simple bandaging," Margaery said, flashing a shy smile.

"And yet, didn't you have a king waiting for you?"

"I didn't forget. I just... made a courageous choice," Margaery said, tilting her head up, her smile brighter than the sun itself. "But what about you? How is it that you're already outside? Did the feast end so soon?"

Samwell laughed heartily. "I, too, made a courageous choice."

"What do you mean?"

"I killed a King."

Margaery's mouth fell open. She stared at him, stunned for a moment, before asking, "Samwell, are you joking?"

"Why, do you think I lack the nerve to kill a King?"

The intensity in his gaze made Margaery's heart skip a beat. She glanced at the massive sword strapped to his back, her eyes widening in disbelief as she stammered, "You... you actually killed Joffrey?"

"As real as it gets," Samwell replied calmly. "Lord Stark proved that Joffrey was no true King he was a bastard born of Cersei and Jaime's incest. He was responsible for the deaths of countless soldiers, including my own brother. Of course I would seek revenge."

Margaery gazed at Samwell, wide-eyed in shock, her expression utterly endearing.

"Farewell, Lady Margaery. I have to run now," Samwell said, bowing slightly as he prepared to ride off.

"Wait!" Margaery called out, stopping him. "Take me with you!"

Samwell paused, his brows lifting in surprise. "You want to come with me?"

"Yes!" Margaery looked up at him with a shy but radiant smile. "It was you who told me to make a courageous choice, wasn't it? Well, I choose you- my knight!"

Samwell gazed intently at the young woman before him, his heart pounding. Even so, he reminded her, "You realize I am now a king-slayer."

"No. You only deposed a false king," Margaery corrected him proudly. "You're not a king-slayer-you're a king-deposer!"

Samwell burst into laughter. "A clever distinction, but I doubt everyone will see it that way. And don't forget, I am merely a minor lord-a minor lord who has just made deadly enemies of the most powerful house in the Seven Kingdoms. Are you truly willing to come with me?"

Margaery extended her delicate, fair hand toward him, the traces of blood on it bearing witness to the courage of her choice. "You have the courage to kill a king, but not the courage to elope with a Major Lord's daughter?"

Samwell's gaze softened as he took her hand, pulling her up into his embrace. He gave her his solemn vow:

"I may have killed one of your kings, but I swear, one day, I will give you another."

(End of Chapter)