The Coming of Snow: Chapter Twelve - Samwell II

Hey there! Been a while since my last entry, but here we are. Sam becomes the first character in this series to hit two chapters. Woo! I hope you enjoy it!

The journey back from Horn Hill had taken them three more days. This time, however, they were not travelling alone, but with an armed guard that Garlan had sent.

He had chosen his best men, or so he told Sam, to make sure that they reached the city unharmed. Gilly had spent most of the first few days crying, having been forced to leave the babe behind. Young Aemon would be taken to Highgarden with Sam's mother and sisters, who were amongst the noble ladies that were to be fostered at the Tyrell seat, safe from Ironborn incursions.

These men were nicer than Sam had expected. They welcomed him around the fires that they had during the night, whilst Gilly slept.

He had sat silently and listened on the first night, as they told each other stories of war or love. He had enjoyed it.

On the second knight they had asked him about the Wall, and so he had told them. He told them of the time that Clydas had almost fed Maester Aemon boiling oil, thinking that it was wine. He told them of Alliser Thorne and his bruising exercises. He told them of noble Jeor Mormont, brave Jaremy Rykker, aged Denys Mallister. They had listened, fascinated.

On the last night he had told them of the Others.

He spoke of the fight at the Fist. He told them of how Chett was pulled down by the decayed corpse of a wildling girl, stabbed through the eye with a dagger and screamed in the cold. He told them of Small Paul and the dragonglass dagger.

He had waited for their laughter then, but instead they stared at him in awe. They did not mock him to his face like his brothers had, instead they applauded him for his bravery and sense of duty. They had loved him for it.

There had been one man, Morras, who had ridden with him during the days.

He had told Sam about his family. His old mother who still wept for his father, his wife and three kids, who awaited his return. He said that he stayed faithful where other men wouldn't. He was in love.

Sam wondered if that was what he experienced with Gilly.

He could never take her for his wife, that would mean that he broke his oath, but whether or not he wanted to was very much open. He had never had a girl like him like this before, and the feelings confused him.

Morras had asked him about love, and Gilly was all he could think of. Then he ed Jon.

Garlan had received a raven from Castle Black the same day that they had left. It said that a wildling had killed the Lord Commander. Jon was dead.

Sam had thought it a joke at first, but then the cruel reality settled in. Jon was dead. Jon was dead. Jon was dead.

Who had killed him? Had it been Tormund? The Weeper? One of the wildlings he had let into the Watch?

Gilly had cried at the news, even if she had never known Jon the way that he had. She had cried for him, or that was what she said later, because she knew that he had lost a friend. Jon was dead.

So he had told Morras of his Lord Commander. He had started with Jon when they had first met, when he had had saved him from the clutches of Alliser Thorne, how it had been Jon that had introduced him to Grenn and Pyp, how Jon had listened to him go on and on about dusty old books that he had found.

Then he told him about Jon's change.

He described in detail the election, and then almost cried when he talked of being sent away. Morras had gasped when he was told of the baby swap. That was the whole story.

Jon was dead. The last order that he had given him was to stop being a craven. Could he do that for his friend? He had gone to Horn Hill, knowing that was where his father and brother would wait for him. Was that the act of a craven?

Had he learned from Braavos and Dareon? Had those actions made him stronger? Sure, he was terrified of going to Oldtown and serving as a spy for Garlan, but any man would be. That was a rational fear.

Then some kind of animal squeaked in the brush to the side of them and he squealed. Morras laughed and clapped his shoulder.

"I will miss you, Sam Tarly."

He had said that, and other men had cheered the statement. Had they come to like him? These men were not his father's, they were Garlan's, and they were almost as gallant as the knight that they served.

They had left Sam at the city gates, however, riding north to meet up with the rest of Garlan's army, waving him goodbye and wishing them luck. He hadn't realised that he would miss them too, until he looked up at the great walls of the city of Oldtown, hearing the hustle and bustle of the city before him.

Gilly was whisked away by two elderly crones, dressed in the gowns of serving maids. he barely had time to say goodbye. They cackled as they went, as if trying to carry on the appearance that they held as witches.

Gilly was to act as a spy in the High Tower itself, serving the family as a serving girl, and trying to find out their intentions. It would be a long while before he saw her again, and her mission was possibly more dangerous than his.

He ed Garlan's last words to him.

"Find Leo Tyrell. He is my cousin. He will ingratiate yourself in at the Citadel, and introduce you to the people that you need to know."

And so that was what he did, although he dreaded the meeting.

He had met Leo only two times before. Once had been before he left with Gilly to go to Horn Hill. He had been with the Maester that had called himself Marwyn. The other had been at the same tourney that he had first met Garlan and Willas.

Leo had been a squire then, to a Fossoway knight, and had been one of those that tossed cruel words his way. He had hated Sam for everything that he stood for, so how was it that he had found himself here, training to be a Maester?

He had asked Garlan, but the man had nothing in the way of answers, instead saying that he wasn't sure, but that Leo's father was the Commander of the Oldtown City Watch, so that likely had something to do with it.

Would Leo give up all the pleasantries of knighthood so that he could be close to his father?

He searched everywhere for the boy. He went first to his rooms, and then to those of Marwyn, the Archmaester who served as his patron. He found the man gone, with none of his novices to be seen. They all must have moved on.

Eventually he gave up, and decided to try and find a place to stay the night, since the door to his room was curiously locked, and it was the other boy that had the key.

It was midday when he walked into the Archmaester's Head, a tavern named for the head of an ancient Archmaester, who had supposedly been executed by a king of House Hightower in the days before the Gardeners took control of the Reach. He was surprised, therefore, to find the very man that he searched for, sat on a stool and drinking.

Leo was alone, with none of his friends, and none of the place's patrons had arrived to get their own drinking started yet.

"The Mage is gone! Gone to the dragons! Gone to the Seas of Grass and the horselords!"

He called out to the world, his voice slurred and his hands in the air. Sam could smell the drink on him from the door. That suggested that he had been here last night, and had just never returned to his quarters.

Leo Tyrell wore a green jerkin, decorated with golden fringing, with a soiled, grey cloak falling down his back. He looked a mess. He hadn't noticed that he now had company.

"Soon she will step onto the shores of Westeros, and the false pretenders shall be forced to bend the knee! The stone dragon awaits! I have seen him in the candles!"

He approached the drunkard that was meant to be helping him around the Citadel, unsure if he really wanted it, seeing the state that he was in.

"Slayer!"

His ears pricked at the name. Only his brothers in black knew the name that they mockingly called him.

Then he realised that the utterance had come from Leo's lips, without him even turning around to see that he had entered. Had he known when he was coming? How had he known that name?

"I was hoping that you would come sooner, but I knew that you would not. Your lady love has been taken already, Slayer? Good, then we may move."

The man turned to him then, calling out to seemingly no-one.

"Meryn! Put it on my tab!"

If Meryn had heard him then he made no effort to respond, as, besides for Leo's heavy breathing, the place was silent. The acolyte seemed to be satisfied that he had been heard, however, as he got to his feet and stumbled out of the door. Sam followed him reluctantly.

The tour of the city was more than he expected.

Quite a lot of it centred around Leo's favourite drinking holes and brothels, all of which made him blush, and Leo laugh at his embarrassment.

Eventually he showed him some of the other landmarks, so that he may be able to find his way around if he got lost.

He was awed by the ancient Starry Sept, and the magnificence of the High Tower. The chanting of the followers of R'hllor at the temple of the Red God scared him, however.

Then, after quite a lot of walking, and with himself flushed and panting, Leo abandoned him in the labyrinth of streets, called off by some of his louder friends.

He tried to find his own way, but he could not. He found his way back to the High Tower, but from there he was lost. He almost sat down and cried in the middle of the street.

That was when he felt a gentle tap on the back of his right shoulder. When he turned, there was no-one there. When he turned back to face forward he found a boy stood in front of him.

He was dark skinned with a widow's peak and comely features, with dark eyes that made him look like he was staring into your very soul.

"Sometimes you must look where you do not expect to find what it is that you seek, Sam Tarly. This, I think, you will learn soon enough. What brings you to wander the streets of Oldtown with no guide?"

Alleras the Spinx had a playful smile, the kind that danced across the face, as if to some music that only he could hear. There was some joke afoot, but what was it?

"I was with Leo Tyrell, but he left me alone, and I-I-I don't know where I should be going from here."

"Lazy Leo was too lazy to finish his duties, was he? Did you find him to be pleasant?"

"I found him to be drunk."

That caused another laugh from the boy. It was a playful laugh, singsong even, not deep and throaty like most of the laughs at the Wall. It was pleasant on his ears.

"I fear that is how you will find him to be more times than not. He has little control when it comes to vices, whether it be women or drink."

That was the kind of man that Garlan trusted to keep him and Gilly safe? A drunken whoremonger?

"Come, Sam Tarly. Let me find you some friends. I think I know just the people for you."

And that was how he had been taken under the wing of Alleras, not Leo. They had both served the same man, he ed, and knew each other well, although didn't seem to care for each other that much.

Leo had his own friends, although Sam rarely met them. The Tyrell acolyte kept them to himself, claiming that their secrecy was important and that he would compromise himself by revealing their identity.

That was why he ended up spending most of his time with Alleras' friendship circle, studying and drinking.

There was Mollander, big and strong, with all the makings of a knight, were it not for his clubfoot. He had two links in his chain, although both had been taken years before. He rarely studied now.

Where Mollander went you would always find Roone, who was his constant companion. The boy was short and chunky, with a moon face and sickly features. He had yet to get his first link, but he was still young. He had time.

Then there was Armen, the one that they called the Acolyte. He was a tall and slender man, with a thin, pointed nose. He took great pride in the four links that he had achieved, and claimed to be well on his way to gaining a fifth, the black iron link.

It was that reason for which they were gathered in the Quill and Tankard, with Alleras stood upon the table talking to the entire tavern.

"And then my mother pulled the last arrow from her quiver, placed it into the bow, and shot it straight through the loose scale of the monstrous sea dragon!"

Some called out cheers at this, whilst others laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the story. Most gathered here were acolytes, and not many believed in sea dragons, or dragons of any kind, still living.

For them, the last dragons had died with their Targaryen masters.

Maester Aemon had thought differently, however. He had exalted at the news of Daenerys Stormborn, and had told him of dreams that he had, of dragons and stars bleeding in the skies above.

He was awoken from his stupour by cheers and claps, as Alleras was dramatically bowing upon the table.

When the bar had eventually settled down, Armen looked to his friend sceptically, a look of worry and scorn in his eyes.

"You really believe these bizarre stories of yours to be true? You think that under the ocean lurk monsters that are waiting to tear us to pieces."

This comment prompted Mollander to look up from his fourth strong cider.

"Why not? I mean, there are plenty of monsters above the waves who want to do exactly the same."

Roone moved to put his arm around his friend, and for once the burly novice didn't shrug it off. His father had been a knight, or so the Sphinx had said, and died upon the Blackwater fighting for the fiery stag.

Armen frowned at his comment, gaining an even more haughty look on his face as he did. It was Alleras that was the one that commented next, however.

"It is the monsters within men that are the most frightening and the hardest to kill. That was what my mother always told me when we travelled. She would say that there were monsters in all men, in some more peaceful than others. I asked her what my father's monster was. She had said that his was wild, yet elegant, as graceful as the wind, yet deadly too."

Alleras liked to talk about his mother and father in these ways, never giving names, but smiling as he did. He had many stories about how he had explored the world with the two of them, and of the many exotic places that he had visited. Some even said that he had visited the Shadow and returned, and that was why Marwyn the Mage had expressed such an interest in the young acolyte.

"Maybe it was the monster inside the Mage that saw him take Pate from us."

This comment brought a reaction from some of those at the table. Robert Frey, one of Leo's friends, sighed in exasperation, whilst Armen visibly tried to restrain his sharp tongue.

Pate was the one that made Sam feel like he would never be accepted here.

The boy had disappeared shortly after his own arrival, vanishing at the same time as the Mage. Various rumours had circulated about him. To some it was simple. The pig boy had finally realised that he wasn't cut out for the life of a Maester and had left. Others had darker theories. Archmaester Vaellyn claimed that Marwyn had taken Pate for a blood sacrifice, whilst Norren had circulated rumours that Marwyn had taken the boy to bugger him in distant lands.

And at the centre of these rumours was Mollander, Pate's best friend, mourning the second loss. He hardly stopped talking about the boy. This disheartened his other friends, who did not like seeing the novice drown himself in cider.

He disliked it too.

The ghost of Pate still stayed over this particular group. Whilst Mollander still searched for his friend he would never be accepted, the same as it had been anywhere else. He was alone without Jon.

Jon was dead. He had to move on.

He knew Mollander's guilt and remorse. Neither of them had been there to protect their friends when they needed them most. Maybe if Mollander had been with Pate then he would still be here. Could the same be said about him and Jon? What good would he have done against a rogue wildling? He was nothing without Jon protecting him.

Sam was pulled out of his thought process by the sound of wooden legs scraping the stone floor.

He was surprised to see that they had been ed by Leo. He had taken his seat next to Robert, a tankard of cider already in his hand. It had been days since he had arrived back in Oldtown, but he had only seen Leo fleetingly.

Leo was handsome and pale, with eyes that sparkled in the light. His hair was ash blonde, and his voice soft, but his tongue darting. He had been taught from an early age by the Queen of Thorns herself, or so it was said.

Robert was everything that his friend was not. He was large in waist and had a fat face, with many chins covering the usually weaselly features of the Freys. His hair was brown and messy, cut so short that it seemed not to cover his large head. He had piggy eyes, and Sam was thankful that Robert's size made himself seem slimmer.

He had lost weight over the course of the boat journey, to the point that his black clothes barely fitted him. Alleras had gifted him with some new clothes upon his arrival, claiming that the Mage had instructed him to do so, and that he was to help him with his studies.

"Do not cry, Hopfrog. I am sure our sweet little pig boy is well on the way back to Lannisport. That is, if he isn't currently on the harder end of the Mage's cock."

That caused a snort of laughter from the Frey boy, and a growl from Mollander. A smile danced on Leo's lips as he witnessed the reaction that his jibe had caused.

"Let use see you make your clever japes when you have steel in your hands, Tyrell."

"Oh, Hopfrog. I would gladly fight you, but I fear that the Citadel has a policy against the murder of my fellows. Maybe if you were to withdraw your name..."

Roone had to hold Mollander back at that, as Leo laughed vocally at the larger boy being pulled back by the younger child.

"Let us calm, friends. We have lost ourselves a friend in Pate, but gained one in Sam. Let us raise our tankards to him."

"Yes, let us raise our tankards to the Craven in Black."

Leo's mocking smile had turned on him, but he raised his tankard none the less, inclining his head slightly. Mollander and Roone didn't follow the toast, as Roone was distracted by calming his companion down. Armen and Robert, however, raised their own ciders with smiles on their face.

"We should let him raise some skirt whilst he is here, too. I haven't seen you touch a woman all week, Craven."

Leo whistled out so that the woman behind the bar gave him her attention.

"Emma, send Bella and Rosey over for my friend. Father will pay you the coin later."

The woman didn't look too happy about it, but she nodded. She couldn't reject a Tyrell, let alone one whose father was Commander of the Oldtown City Watch.

Bella was one of the younger serving girls at the tavern, and was as new to the city as he was himself, having traveled south from the Riverlands not long after the war had begun. Her home had been destroyed by lions, wolves and then lions again, or so she said.

Her hair was curled and black, whilst her eyes were as blue as the cold ice that the Wall was made out of. They were prettier, somehow, as if they twinkled in the dim light of the tavern. She was nothing compared to her companion, however.

Rosey was amongst the prettiest girls that he had ever set eyes upon. She had dimples and hair that curled behind her ears. She had a pretty laugh too, more of a giggle than anything. She doted on Alleras, as did most of the serving girls.

They looked after the comely boy, making sure that he was never short of drink and touches on his shoulders.

The two girls stood before him now. Rosey was the shorter of the two, younger than Bella, with budding breasts compared to Bella's full bosom. The older of the girls held her hands in front of her, a wicked smile on her face as she looked him up and down. He turned his eyes on the younger.

She tried to look confident and happy, but underneath there was a permeable fear. She worried about losing her maidenhead, as he had been when Gilly had taken his.

He wasn't sure why his eyes then turned on Mollander. Maybe it was the piercing glare that the older boy was firing in his direction. Something about this arrangement was upsetting him. He had never expressed any interest in either girl.

Then it hit him.

Rosey was the girl that Pate had fawned over. If he were to sleep with her then he would be fulfilling the association that he held with Pate in the eyes of Mollander and Roone. That was the last the thing that he wanted.

Sam wasn't sure whether it was this or the thought of Gilly that caused him to flee the tavern. He heard Armen call out from behind him, but he ignored the acolyte.

Beyond that he wasn't sure what was happening. He had soon lost himself in the maze of streets, and found himself down on the bank of the Honeywine, staring at a body that had floated up on the land.

It was a small corpse, bloated and blotchy from it's exposure to the water. The skin below the eyes was red and raw.

"It is him. I feared that this would be the case."

He turned to see that Alleras had followed him. Where he was panting and sweaty his friend was fine, with a dry brow and no heaving chest.

"You have now met, Pate, my friend. No-one can know this. Not Armen, Roone or Mollander. Especially not Leo. This has to be our secret, Sam. Do we agree on this?"

He had nodded then, and his friend bowed his head, walking silently over to the body of his friend. He cupped the boy's face for a few seconds, tracing his fingers along the jawline that had bloated under the fast flowing waters.

There were no tears in his eyes as he rose, using his foot to push the body back into the water. Pate was swept away, and Alleras stayed to watch, silence on his usually eloquent tongue.

This was their secret. He would remain silent, as he had been asked. As silent as Pate would remain.

Lost under the waters forever, away from his friends and his Rosey.

Alone and cold.

He knew how Alleras would feel at this moment. He had lost his friend too.

Jon was dead.