Chapter 327: Divisions

By the time Daenerys returned in her new attire, the sky had fully darkened.

This time, she wore a violet silk gown that exposed her smooth, pale back, a pearl sash cinched around her waist. Her silver-gold hair was styled into an elegant chignon, exuding an air of dignity and sophistication.

In the pavilion, servants had prepared a barbecue setup and were busy making dinner.

Samwell lay back in a rocking chair, sipping persimmon wine. Below him, Rhaegal and Viserion tumbled and rolled over each other, playing.

"How about this?" Daenerys lifted the hem of her skirt and spun around in front of Samwell, like a girl eager for her lover's praise.

Samwell gave a theatrical grin. "I am utterly intoxicated, sipping from the cup of your beauty."

"If you're intoxicated, it must be from the wine," Daenerys said with a playful humph, though her smile betrayed her delight.

But the joy on her face quickly faded into a pensive frown.

"Sam, am I foolish?"

A bit naïve, perhaps. "Of course not," Samwell reassured her. "You've just begun to play this Game of Thrones and aren't yet familiar with the rules."

"That's true." Daenerys walked slowly toward him. "Until now, I didn't even know how to play this game—or if I even had the means to join it. But now I have an army and a city because of you. Sam, how can I ever thank you?"

Samwell rose from his chair, closing the gap between them. They stood so close their breaths intertwined.

Daenerys tilted her head back, waiting for his kiss.

Samwell didn't disappoint. He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her body closer, and claimed her lips with his own.

Daenerys closed her eyes, draping her arms around his neck. His kiss was hot, tasting of persimmon wine and pears, leaving her utterly dazed.

When they finally pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed. Gently pushing him away, she said,

"You must be hungry. Let's eat."

"Sure." Samwell took a roasted leg of lamb from a servant and carved several slices onto Daenerys's plate.

"Thank you." She took a bite, then asked, "Sam, now that we've conquered Astapor, shouldn't we move on to Yunkai and Meereen? The slaves in those cities are waiting for us to liberate them."

"I don't think marching on Yunkai and Meereen is a good idea."

Daenerys paused mid-bite, surprised. "Why not?"

Samwell explained,

"Because our real goal is Westeros, not Slaver's Bay. Conquering Astapor was only a means to acquire the Unsullied. Now that we've achieved that goal, it's time to leave."

"But what about the slaves in Yunkai and Meereen?" she asked, frowning.

Samwell sighed. "We can't help them, not right now."

"We can!" Daenerys said firmly. "With the Unsullied and the dragons, we can take Yunkai and Meereen and free the slaves there."

"Capturing Yunkai and Meereen wouldn't be difficult. But what then? Slaver's Bay relies entirely on the slave trade. By abolishing slavery, how will these cities sustain themselves?

Astapor has the Worm River, so it can convert farmland for sustenance. Even so, its future will be precarious. Yunkai and Meereen will face even graver challenges."

"But they'll have their freedom," Daenerys argued.

"Freedom doesn't fill empty stomachs," Samwell countered. "And do you realize that Slaver's Bay is the hub of Essos's slave trade? Dothraki, Qarth, Volantis, New Ghis, and half the known world depend on this region's slaves.

If we destroy the slave trade here, we'll make enemies of half the world.

Can the Unsullied and our four dragons stand against that many foes?"

Daenerys frowned deeply, pondering his words. After a long silence, she shook her head.

"No. We don't just have the Unsullied; we have the support of countless slaves in Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen. If we liberate them, they'll be our strongest allies!"

"You're overestimating those slaves—and yourself," Samwell said sharply. "We're outsiders, Daenerys. No matter how many tokar robes you wear, that won't change.

Abolishing slavery will create chaos. The old nobles will use deception, assassination, and sabotage to turn the people against us.

We don't have the resources or the ability to reform Slaver's Bay. Forcing it will only trap us in a quagmire of enemies."

"Sam, where's your courage and wisdom? Are you giving up so easily?" Daenerys asked.

Samwell looked at the stubborn woman in front of him and suddenly laughed:

"Dany, you really don't understand the rules of this Game of power. You have a compassionate heart, but you don't have the skills to back it up. Slavery is indeed evil and backward, but to abolish it, you need sufficient strength and clever methods. Your brute force will not work."

"You won't know if it works until you try it." Daenerys said stubbornly, "Don't you have the courage to give it a try?"

"It has nothing to do with courage. If you know there is a dead end ahead, why bother going that road?"

"I have walked through the Red Waste before," Daenerys said. "Many times I thought there was a dead end ahead, and many times I thought I would never get out, but in the end, I still found a way out."

She held out her hand to him, her tone full of expectation: "Sam, for me, would you walk this out with me?"

Samwell looked at her, a trace of disappointment flickering in his eyes. But he wasn't surprised.

In the original story, Daenerys had made the same choice. She had been ensnared in Meereen, surrounded by enemies, unable to make any progress.

He wasn't about to repeat that mistake.

The Stormlands were his stronghold, and the Iron Throne was his ultimate goal.

Ruling and reforming three cities on the other side of the world was neither wise nor necessary.

"I'm sorry, Daenerys," he said finally, shaking his head. "If you insist on going to Yunkai and Meereen, I can't go with you."

Daenerys's expression shifted. The man before her suddenly felt like a stranger.

Panic surged in her chest, pulling her back to the night her brother Viserys had sold her to Khal Drogo.

The overwhelming fear of abandonment smothered her.

"Sam, don't you want to marry me?" she asked, her voice trembling. This was her last card.

"I do," Samwell admitted. "But I want you to be my queen consort, not my ruling queen."

"Ser Jorah was right. You want the Iron Throne," Daenerys said bitterly. "But I'm the one with Targaryen blood, descended from Aegon the Conqueror! You're just a Blackfy—"

She stopped mid-sentence, regretting it instantly.

Samwell's expression remained calm, but his tone turned icy.

"You also carry the blood of Maegor the Cruel, Aegon the Unworthy, and Aerys the Mad King. And for the record, I am not a Blackfyre."

He paused, then added, "I am Caesar."

At that moment, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the garden with blinding light.

Three heartbeats later, thunder roared overhead, drowning out Daenerys's stammered apology.

Samwell didn't respond. His gaze shifted upward, drawn to the terrifying sight above.

The sky churned with storm clouds, rolling like an avalanche, their edges tinged with an eerie green light.

Even a single glance was enough to make one's heart race with unease.

The Green Grace's cryptic warnings resurfaced in Samwell's mind, filling him with foreboding.

The dragons sensed it too. They flapped their wings restlessly, roaring into the stormy night.

Grey Worm sprinted into the garden, his face unusually grim.

"Your Grace," he reported, "the two men you ordered into the dungeons... they're dead."

Samwell's heart sank. "How did they die?"

Grey Worm hesitated before speaking.

"They melted into green liquid."

"What's going on? Who melted into green liquid?" Daenerys asked, alarmed.

Ignoring her for the moment, Samwell pressed Grey Worm. "What about the Green Grace? Any news from the temple?"

"None yet."

At that moment, Cleopatra, the white dragon, descended into the garden, her wings stirring up the surrounding trees.

"Declare a curfew across the city," Samwell ordered. "Surround the temple. No one enters or leaves without my command."

"Yes, Your Grace." Grey Worm departed swiftly.

Samwell turned to mount Cleopatra, but Daenerys grabbed his arm.

"Sam, don't go!" she pleaded, her voice trembling.

Beneath her queenly pride, she was still the girl who had been beaten, sold, and hunted—a girl who feared being left alone.

Since Drogo's death, Samwell was the first man to make her feel loved.

But his sudden coldness left her feeling abandoned all over again.

For a brief moment, she wanted to throw herself into his arms.

But her pride as a queen held her back.

Samwell hesitated, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes. With a sigh, he said,

"It's urgent, Daenerys. We'll talk when I return."

He climbed onto Cleopatra's back and rose into the stormy sky.

Behind him, Daenerys shouted something, but her words were swallowed by the thunder.

(End of Chapter)