SAMWELL
Astapor, 306 AC.
This year's autumn had finally begun in Astapor, much to Sam's relief. He'd arrived in Astapor six months ago in spring, when it was quite warm, then suffered through the blazing summer months. Astapor was in many ways the opposite of the Wall. At the Wall Sam had been colder than he'd ever been; in Astapor Sam was hotter than he'd ever been. At the Wall Sam had had to wear black always; in Astapor he usually wore white linen or cotton tunics suited to the heat and glaring sun. At the Wall Sam had sworn to take no wives and father no children; in Astapor he was married and expecting his first child.
Sam still felt awe remembering how the dragons had extinguished the Others with their flames, and the Wall had fallen. With no Wall, and no Others, there was no need for the Night's Watch, so Lord Commander Mormont had released the men from the vows. Many of the former black brothers had chosen to accompany Jon on his seemingly mad quest to Valyria with his aunt and half-brother and their dragons, but Sam had instead decided to return to the Citadel to complete his maester's chain. He had only gone to the Citadel before at Lord Mormont's command to find information on the Others, but he'd always wanted to be a maester. He still feared his father's wrath—but he had faced down the Others, he had told himself; he was a craven no more.
Not long after Sam had arrived at the Citadel he had heard the news that Willas Tyrell, crown prince of the Reach, was marrying Sam's eldest sister Talla. Sam had been glad for Talla, as he had heard nothing but good things about Prince Willas, but he'd also realized that he had not seen his mother or sisters for four years. He had wanted so badly to see them again, to show them how he was no longer a craven, to tell them about the battle with the Others, about his friends from the Night's Watch, about his studies at the Citadel—and then he'd remembered his father's terrible threat.
At first Sam had been terrified. If he ever lays eyes on me he'll kill me, he promised, he'd thought. But if Sam were to attend his sister's wedding to Prince Willas at Highgarden, even Lord Randyll Tarly wouldn't dare kill his own son right under the noses of the royal house of the Reach and all their bannermen as well. Sam had certainly not looked forward to having to see his father, and he'd told himself that he must be careful to make sure they were never alone together…but he had determined that he was going anyway.
The one nagging fear he had had was poison. Lord Tarly could hardly cut out his eldest son's heart with Heartsbane in full sight of all the Reach…but he could slip poison into Sam's food or drink. Sam had promised himself that he would watch his cup and plate at all times. Poison is the weapon of the craven, he'd told himself. Let Lord Randyll Tarly remember that.
Sam had written to Prince Willas asking if he, Sam, as brother to the bride, could come to the wedding. Willas had sent him back a very gracious letter extending an invitation to him. The old Sam would never have had the courage to ask a favor of the crown prince of the Reach, but the new Sam had told himself that the famously courteous Prince Willas would probably say yes to his request, and even if he didn't, there was no harm in asking. And he did say yes.
When Sam had arrived at Highgarden for the wedding his mother and all three of his sisters had embraced and kissed him, and Dickon had greeted him politely, but his father—his father had glared at him murderously. When he finally spoke he'd said, "I thought you'd sworn to serve in the Night's Watch for the rest of your life. What are you doing here?"
Before Sam could think of what to say, his mother had said, "Why, husband, the Wall has fallen. Surely you know that."
"Wall or no, the vows of the Night's Watch are for life. Deserting from the Watch is treason, punishable by death." Sam had seen his mother turn pale at that. He'd felt himself turn pale as well, but he knew he had to stand up to his father.
"The Night's Watch existed to man and guard the Wall. Without the Wall, there is no Night's Watch, just like without the Iron Throne there is no Kingsguard. Lord Commander Mormont declared all brothers released from their vows."
"And who gave Mormont the authority to release the men from their vows against thousands of years of established law and precedent?" His father had looked even angrier.
"Law and precedent says that the Lord Commander makes all decisions regarding the Watch regardless without the interference of kings or lords or anyone else outside the Watch," Sam had heard himself saying. "If you want to challenge Mormont himself, you'll have to travel a thousand leagues north to Bear Island." At that Lord Tarly's murderous glare had intensified even further, and Sam's mother and sisters and even Dickon had watched him fearfully. Sam couldn't help but gulp. Maybe he really will kill me right here. But when his father had finally spoken, all he'd said was,
"Don't be absurd," and then had turned and walked away in long, angry strides. Sam had stared at his mother and sisters and brothers, wondering what he or anyone else could possibly say about his exchange with his father. He could tell that they were all pondering the same question. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Sam had finally decided he would act like it had never happened, and he'd turned to Talla and asked,
"So, how well do you and Prince Willas know each other already?" They'd all played along then and pretended nothing had happened, speaking glowingly of clever, kindly Prince Willas; Prince Garlan, called the gallant because he was such a model of chivalry; handsome Prince Loras, who at his young age was already a tourney champion, possibly the best in Westeros; Princess Margaery, lovely and charming; Queen Alerie, who kept the finest court to be found anywhere; and Lady Olenna, King Mace's mother, a razor-sharp wit even in her old age. They hadn't talked about King Mace himself, who everyone knew was a fool. It would be unwise to make a frank assessment of either the King of the Reach or the Lord of Horn Hill while either was on the premises, especially the latter.
Much to Sam's relief his father had avoided him as much as possible for the rest of his time at Highgarden, allowing Sam to enjoy the company of his mother and sisters, and of Prince Willas, Prince Garlan, Princess Margaery and Lady Olenna once he'd been introduced to them. Prince Loras had not been very friendly, but Princess Margaery had explained to them apologetically that he was still grieving over the death of his best friend Renly Baratheon, or "King Renly," as she had referred to to her first husband. She may not be a queen now, but she is a princess. With the destruction of King's Landing, Margaery's father had declared himself King of the independent Reach, but unlike the Starks, Lannisters, Arryns, Martells and Baratheons, the Tyrells had never been kings. There were several Reach houses, most notably the Florents, who were descended from House Gardener through the male line rather than the female line like the Tyrells, and thus had a better claim to Highgarden and kingship of the Reach…but if each house believed themselves to be the rightful heirs of House Gardener, they could not band together to challenge House Tyrell. Since they were awarded Highgarden and made Lords Paramount of the Reach over 300 years ago by Aegon the Conqueror as a reward for surrendering Highgarden, the Tyrells had had a nearly uninterrupted streak of good luck, from being pardoned by Robert Baratheon despite laying siege to Storm's End and nearly starving the new king's own brothers to death, to coming out of the War of Four Kings unscathed despite the death of Renly Baratheon. Is it because the gods favor them? Everyone always said that Mace Tyrell was a fool, yet somehow he ended up with a secure hold on the most populous and fertile kingdom in Westeros. This was in stark contrast to the fate of the supposedly brilliant and invincible Tywin Lannister.
For the wedding feast Sam had had no choice but to be seated near his father. To Sam's relief, Lord Tarly had not glowered at him murderously as before, but instead had tried to avoid looking at him at all. Probably he had not wanted to make a bad impression on the Tyrells. Sam had worried that his father might try poison him, so he'd tried to keep his eyes on his food and drink at all times, but as the conversation went on he'd found that more and more impossible. After several courses he'd simply told himself that his father would not poison him under the noses of his own lieges.
Once Sam had managed to push fear of poison to the back of his mind, he had actually begun to enjoy the endless delicious courses and the varied singers, harpers, fiddlers, pipers, tumblers and other performers. At the same time he had found himself deeply interested in the conversation at the table.
"What are your plans for the kingdom, Your Grace," Sam's father had asked King Mace. The king's fat face had flushed with pride.
"I have several bold plans, Lord Randyll. I plan to construct a new town and port on the mouth of the Mander. Mandertown, it will be called. And a canal connecting the Mander with the Honeywine, with a modest toll, of course." Sam had been impressed. In conjunction these two projects would greatly increase both the Reach's commerce and the wealth of House Tyrell. Sam had wondered whose ideas Mandertown and the Mander-Honeywine canal were. It is most unlikely that King Mace came up with either, let alone both. From what Sam had heard and observed of the Tyrell family, it was probably Prince Willas, aided perhaps by his grandmother.
"Two most excellent plans, Your Grace," Lord Tarly had said, and Sam had thought that his father was actually sincere. He knows a clever idea when he sees one.
"I—we've—another bold plan as well," Prince Willas had said. His plan, no doubt, not his father's. "In order to stabilize crop prices and prevent food shortages, House Tyrell is founding a Land Bank. Farmers will be able to sell their crops to the Land Bank at a guaranteed minimum price in exchange for a letter of credit, which they can then redeem if prices go up." Sam had truly been impressed then. Will it work? It should, in theory. Of course things that worked in theory did not always work in practice, but Sam had suspected that somehow this Land Bank would.
The conversation about the bold new plans had continued, along with the food and entertainment. "We will plan the construction of Mandertown properly so that it does not turn into a cesspit like King's Landing was," Prince Willas had said. Sam had never been to King's Landing, but he'd read that the destroyed former capital had been far dirtier than the other cities of Westeros due to having sprung up virtually overnight with no proper planning.
Finally the feast was done and it was time for the bedding. Sam had decided that he would not join in the bedding ceremony. He had not wanted to see his sister and goodbrother naked, nor had he wanted to listen to a torrent of bawdy jokes. What if they start joking about me? He had stolen a glance at Talla and Willas as the guests were hoisting them into the air. Both had had nervous grins on their faces. Sam had hoped that his sister's wedding night went well. He'd heard that girls often felt pain when a man took their maidenhead. Men are lucky not to have maidenheads.
The morning after the wedding Prince Willas had graciously asked Sam if he wanted to stay at Highgarden for a few more days. Sam had wanted to say yes to this invitation, but he knew that he had to get back to the Citadel for his studies. Prince Willas had told his new goodbrother that he was welcome to visit Highgarden any time. Welcome at Highgarden, but not at Horn Hill. He'd be able to see Talla, but what about his mother and other two sisters?
As Sam was in his guest bedchamber preparing to return to Oldtown from Highgarden, his father had cornered him alone. "I will remind you that you surrendered your claim to Horn Hill upon joining the Night's Watch," Lord Tarly had said, his voice deadly.
"I know," Sam said, as bravely as he could, then added, "Dickon is the rightful heir, as you say." Sam had been released from his vows—but he had no intention of fighting for his inheritance. Father would kill me first, and I'd rather be a maester anyway.
"Good," Lord Tarly had said, and then left Sam's bedchamber as abruptly as he had entered it. Sam had breathed a sigh of relief. He won't kill me now that he'd knows I won't try to claim Horn Hill.
Sam had worked diligently at the Citadel for another four years, earning many links. Some links were harder to earn than others. Ravenry had come easily to him, but to earn the silver link for Healing he'd had to get over his instinctive horror at the sight and smell of the many wounds he was required to attend to. But he'd already began developing a stronger stomach while a black brother; at the Citadel he continued to battle his tendencies to cravenness, with some success.
Sam had quickly earned a copper link for History, as he was fascinated by the subject, learning as much as he could not only about the history of Westeros but of the Free Cities, the Valyrian Freehold, the Ghiscari and Slaver's Bay, the Kingdom of Sarnor, Yi Ti, Leng and Asshai. Although he no longer trained with a sword he earned an iron link for Warcraft, thinking it an essential practical subject. In the same pursuit of practical knowledge he'd earned a gold link for Economics and a pale steel one for Smithing. He'd also mastered High Valyrian, mainly so that he could read the many scrolls written in that language.
When Sam had first returned from the Citadel after the fall of the Wall, he'd noticed that all of his clothes seemed too big for him. He concluded that his physical training combined with the spare diet of the Watch had caused him to lose weight. While Sam no longer trained at arms at the Citadel, he started taking long walks around Oldtown every day, while cutting out sweets and second helpings. After almost a year of this regimen he'd managed to get his weight down to about thirteen stone, which was hardly slim, but not really fat either. He came to enjoy the exercise, as well as exploring the streets, alleys and docks of Oldtown. Perhaps I should return to Horn Hill and tell Father that I'm not fat anymore.
After the Targaryen victory in the East and the liberation of Volantis, news had come to Oldtown that Academies were being founded in Astapor, Yunkai, Meereen and Volantis, just as they had been founded in Lannisport, White Harbor, Maidenpool and Gulltown. Sam had heard that his old friend Jon Snow was now King Jon Targaryen of Astapor, and that the rest of his friends from the Night's Watch were with him. The new academies in both Westeros and Essos allowed their Scholars to marry. Once he'd heard that, Sam made his decision.
He'd been eager to bring his knowledge and skills to his old friends in liberated Astapor, but there was one other thing that he knew he must do first. He'd still remembered Gilly, the Wildling girl he'd saved along with her babe, both of whom he'd convinced King Robb Stark to give refuge to at Winterfell. Sam had dreamed of Gilly almost every night. Other acolytes visited whores, but Sam did not want a woman who liked his silver more than she liked him. He had no idea, however, if Gilly was even still alive, or living at Winterfell. Nor, for that matter, did he know if she wanted to marry him, if she hadn't married another man already. Before making the long journey from Oldtown to Winterfell he had to find out first if Gilly would actually be there at the other end waiting to marry him. Then Sam had hit upon a solution. He would send a raven to King Robb himself, whom he'd fought with against the Others with some years ago, and ask him to deliver his marriage proposal to Gilly, provided she was still at Winterfell and unmarried.
He'd realized at once how audacious his plan was. To send a raven to a king, asking him if a Wildling serving girl who worked in his castle would marry Sam, whom she hadn't seen in years—what if Robb received the raven and was so angry at Sam's impertinence that he refused to help? Or even sacked Gilly. Sam had remembered meeting the king all those years ago and seeing Jon convince him to take in Gilly, despite the terrible truth about her and her babe and Craster. Sam had wondered if Robb still remembered him, or Gilly. He must remember taking in two Wildlings born of rape and incest. I was probably not nearly so memorable.
Once Sam had decided he would take the risk of sending a raven to Robb, he had to think very carefully about how to word his message. After several drafts, he settled on a version which began by reminding Robb of how they'd met at the Wall, how Sam had been a friend of Jon's, how Robb had so kindly agreed to take in Gilly and her babe (he didn't mention Craster, though if Robb remembered Gilly at all he certainly remembered that part). He then said that he was going to Astapor to serve at the Academy founded by King Jon Targaryen, but that he'd thought of Gilly almost every night since he'd last seen her, and he couldn't set off for Astapor without asking for her hand first. He then said that no one would expect a king to deliver a message to a serving girl, but that Sam would be eternally grateful if Robb did just that, and that he realized that Gilly might well have married another man by now…he'd worded it to try and sound heartfelt and respectful and not presumptuous towards either Robb and Gilly. Then, after much trepidation, he'd sent it to Winterfell.
Sam had barely slept the whole time he waited for a reply. What if Robb didn't deign to deliver a marriage proposal to a Wildling serving girl? Kings were often like that. What if Gilly was already married, or gone, or didn't want to marry him? What girl would want to bed me, let alone marry me and follow me halfway around the world? Finally he'd received a raven from Winterfell. It came directly from King Robb himself. It said that Gilly had agreed to his marriage proposal, and was waiting for him at Winterfell with "little Sam."
"Little Sam." Gilly hadn't named her babe yet when he'd last seen her, Wildlings normally didn't name children until they were two years of age…but Gilly had named her babe after him, Sam. And she was waiting at Winterfell to marry him after all of these years. Sam had thanked the old gods and the new. This is more than I could have ever hoped for.
Sam had helped pay for the long sea journey from Oldtown to Winterfell by providing services to the captain of the ship, such as medical care for the crew and reading and writing letters for them. He had been fortunate to arrive in Winterfell while it was still the autumn of that year, before the ferocious Northern winter had set in. He had been greeted by Winterfell's steward, who'd sent to the kitchens for Gilly. While Sam had waited, he'd wondered if Gilly had changed at all, if she still looked the same. Her son would still be very young, though no longer a babe in arms. Little Sam had never known a father, Sam had reflected. Would he, Sam, take the role as father to his namesake? Would he have any children of his own with Gilly once they were married? Sam didn't know how to be a father. I should take the example of mine own father, and be the complete opposite.
Finally Gilly had arrived, holding her son by the hand. The smile she'd given him warmed his heart with pure joy, and they'd embraced. "I can't believe you came back for me," she'd said.
"Of course I did."
"You're not fat anymore," she'd added brightly once they'd let go of each other.
"Thank you." He'd looked at her carefully. Her figure was more womanly than when he'd seen her last, her hair neatly braided instead of a tangle. No doubt that was because she was better-fed at Winterfell, where one could also find such items of civilization as combs. She was a woman now, no longer a frightened girl. The comfort and safety of Winterfell had made her prettier than he'd even remembered. She's changed, and only for the better.
Then he'd looked at little Sam. The little boy had dark brown hair and doe eyes like his mother, and like her he looked slender but well-fed. "This is the man who saved me from the Other," Gilly had said to her son. "I named you after him."
"Hello," Sam had said to his soon-to-be stepson, smiling.
"Hello," the boy had replied.
"Remember how I told you that I was going to get married?" Gilly had said to her son. The boy had nodded his head. "This is the man I'm going to marry."
"We'll be a family together, then," Sam had said to the boy. "We'll leave Winterfell and go live in a place where it never snows. You'll never be cold again. Wouldn't you like that?"
"I don't want to leave Winterfell," the boy had said. "Why are you taking me and Mummy away?" Sam had hoped desperately that he could find some way to make the boy want to leave with him. If he is unhappy, Gilly and I will be as well. And he'll hate me, his own stepfather.
"King Robb has a cousin, Jon Targaryen, who is King of a city called Astapor, far away from here. King Jon and I were both part of the Night's Watch before the Wall fell, and he was my dearest friend. He has founded an Academy in Astapor just like King Robb has in White Harbor and Maidenpool, to teach students the things that maesters learn at the Citadel. I'll have a job at the Academy, similar to what a maester does, only I'm not a maester so I can get married and have a family."
The boy had looked unconvinced. Sam had searched desperately for a new tack to persuade him, then had said, "King Jon has a dragon. I've seen it myself, it's name is Viserion. It was the most beautiful and terrible thing I ever saw. King Jon and his dragon helped save everybody from the Others. I'm friends with King Jon, I could introduce you to him, and you can see him fly on his dragon."
Then the boy had looked interested. "You really have a friend who's a king and he has a dragon?" he'd asked, sounding slightly skeptical.
"Yes," Sam had replied fervently, "I swear it by the old gods and the new."
"Alright, then. I'll come," the boy had said coolly. Thank the gods. Gilly had hugged and kissed her son. "It'll be a great adventure, we're going somewhere nice and warm."
The next morning Sam and Gilly were married in front of the heart tree in the godswood, with King Robb himself performing the ceremony. "Give Jon my love, and Bran's and Rickon's and Arya's," the king had said to Sam before he left with his new wife and stepson.
"Gladly, Your Grace," Sam had responded. He'd wondered then if Jon would ever visit Winterfell, where he'd spent his whole childhood, if he'd ever see his Stark cousins again. I'm sure he'll find a way to see them again, he must. Then Sam had wondered if he, Sam, would ever return to Westeros, or see his mother and sisters again. I'll see them again someday, and Talla and Willas's children as well. Since Talla had married Prince Willas she had given birth to a son, whom they'd named Garth after Garth Greenhand. Sam had enjoyed meeting his baby nephew on his last visit to Highgarden. Talla and Willas both seemed delighted by their new son as well. He will be King of the Reach one day. Sam knew that he would have to be a father to his stepson, and to any other children he and Gilly had together. I'll be a good father, I know I will.
After a very long journey by sea they had arrived in Astapor. Sam had not had enough coin for a private cabin for himself and Gilly on any of the ships they'd traveled on, so they had been unable to consummate their marriage. Now that we've finally arrived at our destination, we'll find a room of our own to make love in.
Speaking High Valyrian, Sam had told the harbormaster that he had come from the Citadel of Oldtown to be a Scholar at the new Academy founded by King Jon. High Valyrian and the Astapori dialect were similar enough for Sam to be able to communicate with the harbormaster. He had been taken to the largest pyramid in the city, where he was told King Jon resided and held court. Everything in Astapor seemed to be made out of red brick, with all manner of trees, vines and flowers growing on the terraces of the many stepped pyramids.
Finally he'd been ushered into the audience chamber. There he saw his old friend Jon, like Sam a man and no longer a boy. Jon wore a crown and sat on a carved and gilded dragon throne. Above him was what must be his new sigil, a white direwolf on a silver field per pale a cream dragon on a gold field. His crown had coils of gold and silver and one silver and one gold wing. At the front was a white jade direwolf head with ruby eyes next to a dragon's head made of gold and mother-of-pearl scales with yellow topaz eyes. His sigil and his crown incorporate both his dragon and his direwolf, Targaryen and Stark. Jon's enormous white direwolf, Ghost, had been sprawled at his feet. Sam had thought that Ghost must be old for a direwolf by now. When he dies, Jon will have no more direwolves. Sam had failed to one knee. "Your Grace," he'd said.
He'd heard Jon laugh and then had looked up at him. "Sam! I knew I'd see you again someday!" he'd said, embracing Sam warmly. Ghost had rubbed his huge muzzle against Sam's flank as Sam had returned his old friend's embrace. Jon's direwolf is the size of a pony now. "What's happened to the rest of you?" Jon had asked, smiling at Sam's greatly diminished girth.
"I'm afraid I lost about half of myself back in Oldtown," Sam had grinned back at his old friend. "However, I am well-trained in the arts of the Citadel, though I took no maester's vows. I came to help you start your Academy here in Astapor, if it pleases Your Grace."
"They don't call me 'Your Grace' here in Astapor," Jon had said. "In the Ghiscari cities the Graces are priestesses. I'm called 'Your Highness,' instead. I hope that doesn't sound too pompous," he'd smiled at Sam.
"Not at all, Your Highness," Sam had smiled back.
"Grenn and Pyp are here as part of my household guard," Jon had said. "A number of our former brothers remained here with me in Astapor: Donal Noye, Dolorous Edd, Cotter Pyke, Jarmen Buckwell, Qhorin Halfhand, Ulmer, Garth Greyfeather, Bearded Ben, Maester Mullin, Gendry. Now none of us have to worry about being cold ever again. Brienne of Tarth is one of my sworn swords as well, as fine a knight as Barristan the Bold."
"It'll be good to see Grenn and Pyp again, and all the others as well," Sam had said. "I brought someone with me as well, Your Highness." He'd paused. "Before I came to Astapor, I went all the way to Winterfell to marry Gilly. King Robb himself conducted our wedding ceremony in front of the heart tree at Winterfell. I've brought her here, and her son, little Sam."
"Congratulations on your marriage," Jon had smiled and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "How are Robb and Bran and Arya and Rickon?"
"They all send their love to you, Your Highness," Sam had answered. "Bran is studying at the White Harbor Academy. Arya is in Braavos studying water-dancing. She's not betrothed to the Frey boy anymore."
"Thank the gods for that."
"Rickon is well, and Robb and Roslin have two children, Prince Eddard, who is five, and Princess Serena, who is two."
"I'm glad to hear that everyone is well, especially Arya," Jon had said. "I am married as well. After we and the Braavosi won the war against Volantis and Qarth, I married a Braavosi gentlewoman to strengthen Astapor's ties to Braavos. Her name is Sonara Zalyne, and she is a descendant of Uthero Zalyne, the Sealord of Braavos who first revealed the hidden city's existence to the rest of the world. The Zalynes have been powerful in Braavos ever since. Sonara has already given me a son. I named him Aemon, after Maester Aemon, who was a Targaryen as I am now."
"Congratulations to you, as well, Your Highness," Sam had smiled back at his friend. "I wish Maester Aemon could be here with us. I know he'd be proud of you."
"He'd be proud of you, too, don't we both introduce our families to each other?"
"Gladly, Your Highness."
Gilly lhad ooked shy and nervous standing before a king and his queen, but little Sam had looked undaunted. A bold boy, that one. "Your Highness, this is my wife, Gilly, and my stepson, little Sam. Gill, Sam, this is King Jon Targaryen of Astapor"
"Pleased to meet you both," Jon had said, smiling.
"Pleased to meet you, Your Highness," Gilly had said, curtsying clumsily. Someone must have taught her to curtsy at Winterfell. She'd turned to her son. "Sam, remember your courtesies," she'd said encouragingly.
"Pleased to meet you, Your Highness," little Sam had said as he gave a stiff little bow.
"Now that we've been introduced, let me introduce you to my family," Jon had said. "Sonara, this is my old friend of the Night's Watch, Samwell Tarly, and his wife, Gilly, and stepson, little Sam." Turning to Sam and Gilly he'd said, "This is my wife, Queen Sonara, of House Zalyne of Braavos, and our babe, Crown Prince Aemon Targaryen."
"Pleased to meet you," Queen Sonara had said, speaking the Common Tongue with a heavy Braavosi accent. Sam had remembered that unlike himself, Gilly did not speak High Valyrian and would therefore have a much more difficult time learning the bastard dialect of Astapor. We'll have to find someone to teach her Astapori Valyrian, someone who knows the Common Tongue. Sam had then thought that perhaps Gilly could learn to read and write in both languages. Then she'll be able to read books like I can.
"Pleased to meet you, Your Highness" Sam had said to the Queen, bowing. Jon's queen was a comely young woman with golden-beige skin, wavy brown hair and olive green eyes. She wore a sleeveless, flowing gown of cream silk, belted with a golden girdle, and a crown to match Jon's. In her arms had been Baby Aemon.
"Pleased to meet you, Your Highness" Gilly had said, with the same clumsy curtsy as before.
"Pleased to meet you, Your Highness," little Sam had said, bowing. At least he remembered his courtesies this time.
The Queen had let Sam hold Baby Aemon, and Sam had observed that the babe's eyes were a soft, cloudy green. Now Jon has a son who will be King after him. Sam had wondered how Jon felt about being a father. Jon had always spoken with love and admiration of the man he'd grown up thinking was his father, Lord Eddard Stark. Does Rhaegar Targaryen mean anything to him? Sam had been sure that Jon would be a good father like Lord Eddard had been. If I become a father, I must be nothing like mine own.
Sam had been glad to see Grenn and Pyp again, and the rest of his former brothers as well. They'd all joked about how much weight he'd lost. Grenn and Pyp were men now too, like Sam and Jon, and were both formidable swordsmen and riders, having trained personally with Ser Barristan Selmy. The greatest knight alive, and a much better teacher than old Thorne. "It never snows here," Pyp had said as he clapped Sam on the shoulder.
"Do you miss snow and ice?" Sam had asked his old friend.
"Not one bit!" Pyp had grinned.
"Me neither!" Grenn had added. Sam doubted he would either.
Jon had found a small but comfortable red brick house near the Academy for Sam and his family to live in. Now that Sam and Gilly finally had a room of their own to themselves after months on a crowded ship, they had made love for the first time. Thank the gods there was no bedding ceremony. It was awkward, but still sweet. As they continued to make love they got better at it. Sam had tried not to think of how Gilly had been raped by her father, resulting in the birth of little Sam. Craster is dead. No one will ever harm Gilly or little Sam again, not as long as I live.
Jon had built the Academy on the site of what had been the largest fighting pit in very thought of what once when on in the fighting pits made Sam sick to his stomach. Jon is a true hero for freeing so many slaves, here and in Volantis as well. On the site of the second largest fighting pit, Jon had built a Dragonpit to house Viserion.
"There used to be a huge bronze harpy fountain in the Plaza of Pride," Jon had told him. "But I tore it down. The largest plaza in Astapor, the Plaza of Freedom, used to be the Plaza of Punishment, where new slaves were taken to see slaves who'd been tortured and executed." Plaza of Freedom. Sam liked the sound of that.
A freedman had tutored Sam in Astapori Valyrian before he could teach at the Academy. Learning the Astapori dialect had been fairly easy for Sam, as he was already fluent in High Valyrian. Another freedman who spoke the Common Tongue and who had taught Astapori Valyrian to the former black brothers and other Westerosis Jon had brought with him to Astapor hadtaught Gilly and little Sam. Little Sam picked up the language quite quickly because he spent much of his time playing with Astapori children, but for Gilly it was a struggle. Even more difficult for her was the searing heat of the long Dragon Bay summer. She never complained though, and worked diligently at learning the dialect of Astapor. Sam made certain to praise her as often as possible, for her hard work at learning a new language, for her cooking and cleaning skills, for her beauty and sweetness. He hoped that doing so made adjusting to Astapor at least a little bit easier for her. It's the least I can do for her, after all that she's done for me.
Sam and Jon had met with King Aegon of Yunkai and Queen Daenerys of Meereen to discuss the founding of the Academies in Dragon Bay. Queen Daenerys, the most beautiful woman Sam had ever seen, brought with her a former Archmaester of the Citadel, Archmaester Marwyn. Marwyn had left to serve the Targaryens before Sam had arrived at the Citadel, but Sam had heard all sorts of stories about him, about how he knew in all sorts of higher mysteries, some of them sinister. Maester Mullin, formerly of the Night's Watch, came with Sam and Jon. If only Maester Aemon could be here with us. King Aegon had brought his former tutor, a man they called Haldon Halfmaester, as he'd studied at the Citadel but hadn't earned enough links to be a maester. Aegon also brought one of his uncle Prince Oberyn's bastard daughters, Sarella Sand, called Sarella She-Maester because she had earned nine links at the Citadel while pretending to be a man. Like Sam, she'd never taken maesters' vows. Sam thought that women ought to be able to study at the Citadel and become maesters as well. I wonder if there have been any other women secretly studying there.
"The Academies we are founding have several purposes," Archmaester Marwyn had said. "To spread knowledge of the many arts of the Citadel is the broadest one. However, the Academies should also be centers of healing for the sick and wounded, and libraries of as many books in as many languages as we can find. This includes the many Valyrian scrolls we found on our quest to the ruins of Valyria, and scrolls in the tongue of Old Ghis, which few understand. The most valuable book we currently have is the one that provides the secret of forging Valyrian steel with dragonfire. I have used it to forge neo-Valyrian blades for Ser Barristan Selmy and Lord Jon Connington. I plan to teach this now rediscovered art to pupils who show aptitude for the higher mysteries. The whole world will line up to buy these new Valyrian blades at great price, which will be invaluable for Dragon Bay's economy."
Sam was still uncomfortable at the thought of the higher mysteries. Archmaester Marwyn will be teaching them, I won't be involved. Still, the idea of forging new Valyrian blades was thrilling. Even if I no longer train with a sword.
At the Astapor Academy, Sam and Maester Mullin taught students ranging from nine or ten to nearly forty, females as well as males. Other teachers were former slaves who had been tutors for slaver families before the liberation of Dragon Bay. Sam also spent a lot of time tending the sick and wounded, and curating the Academy's library. He woke up early every morning to walk before the heat set in, and returned home every night, often making love to Gilly. Like everyone else in Astapor, Sam sometimes saw Jon flying Viserion overhead, visiting the farms outside of the city and making sure no Dothraki khalasars were headed towards them. Little Sam had screamed with delight the first time he had seen Jon flying on his dragon, but eventually he'd gotten used to the sight.
The long, hot Astapori summer had been almost over when Gilly had told him the news. "I'm carrying your child," she'd said.
"That's wonderful!" Sam had exclaimed. He had been glad to hear the news, but at the same time apprehensive, both about becoming a father and about Gilly having to go through childbirth. So many women died birthing children…She won't. I have a maester's training, I'll see her and our child through safely.
"Yes," Gilly had said. Her smile had looked genuinely happy, but also nervous. No doubt she has the same fears that I do.
Sam had rested his hand on her belly over her white linen gown. There'd been no bump yet, but he'd thought he could feel their unborn child inside her belly nonetheless. "If it's a boy we'll name him Jon, if it's a girl, Melessa, after my mother."
"Yes, of course," Gilly had said, resting her hand on top of his as he felt her belly. They'd kissed, and made passionate love that night.
Sam had told Jon and Grenn and Pyp the news. They'd all congratulated him. "Our sons will grow up together as friends," Jon had said. Sam knew that his unborn child might actually be a girl, but he told himself that Melessa Tarly could be friends with Prince Aemon just the same.
Finally it was autumn, and the middays were no longer so hot that everyone had to stay indoors during them. Sam watched Gilly's belly swell, and thanked whatever gods there were for all they had bestowed on him.
