Some Days Earlier
(Samwell Tarly POV)
Who am I? It is a question that requires very deep thinking. A question, the answer to which, I myself lack.
My name, beyond any doubt, is Samwell Tarly. It is the only thing that I can say with full confidence. Apart from it, every other part of my identity is contested.
I am the eldest son of Randyll Tarly, Lord of House Tarly of Horn Hill, a vassal to the great House Tyrell. My mother is Melessa Tarly.
My father is one of the most acknowledged commanders of Westeros. He is a military genius and a great tactician. Much of his fame arises from his defeat of Robert Baratheon during the rebellion. The Battle of Ashford, it was called. And it was the only battle that Robert Baratheon and his forces lost during the entire rebellion.
Although the crown of credit for victory landed on the head of Lord Mace Tyrell, everyone knew and acknowledged that it was my father who actually won that victory. That was the moment when he had been immortalized in history. And probably, that very same battle was the reason for his extra arrogance.
As the firstborn, I was the heir to the lordship of House Tarly. But I was incompetent, useless, pathetic and a fool, at least this was what my father said about me. I was all that in the eyes of my father. And I cannot really blame him for that.
For Randyll Tarly, the warrior, the commander, the military genius, he had expected the same from his firstborn son. His heir. But unfortunately, I was nothing like what he had expected.
To be honest, I had no interest, love, or passion for swords, violence, or leading an army. I leaned more toward the scholarly side. Towards Wisdom and intelligence. I was fat. Fat enough that I could never be a knight or a warrior.
It was not that I did not try. Trust me when I say that I was relentless in my training. I would swing the sword until my body gave up. I would spar until every inch of my body ached in agony. But I could little of both.
But just as I lacked interest in these matters, I also lacked the skill. And my fat physique only made things worse. A few swings of the sword were enough to leave me breathless.
When I was a young boy, my father had put a lot of effort into me. He would forcefully train me. Force me to pick up the sword again and again. But I always failed. Not once did I live up to his expectations. Neither my mind nor my body was suited for wars and violence.
I was interested in books. Knowledge. Reading and learning was my hobby. But this kind of pursuit had little value in the eyes of a man like Randyll Tarly.
And finally, he gave up. He gave up all his expectations of me, and his focus shifted to my younger brother. Dickon Tarly. He was what my father had wanted. A warrior and a military genius. A commander. A perfect heir and a perfect lord of the house Tarly.
At first, he merely ignored me. And to be honest, I was content with it. He had gotten what he wanted, and I had gotten the freedom to live my life as I wished.
But then things began to change. His ignorance of me turned into hatred, loathing, and disgust. Probably, he saw his own failure in me.
He would scream at me, insult me, and make me feel as worthless as he could. And then came the extreme phase, the epitome of his hatred. I still vividly remember that day.
The day he announced that I would have to go to the Wall. That I would have to take the black. And I have no other option apart from it.
If I remained alive and at Horn Hill, Dickon would never be able to inherit the lordship. For by all customs and traditions, it was I who would be Lord. And this was a thing he could not bear.
Thus, I had to take the black. But even more shattering and heartbreaking than this was what he said afterwards. That if I did not do as he asked, he would kill me and make it look like an accident. It was one of the most painful feelings I had ever experienced.
Before that day, I had always thought that maybe… maybe somewhere inside his heart there was at least a shred of love for me. That his harshness was only because he cared for his legacy. And I had understood and even accepted that. But after that day, I lost all optimism.
My family, however, still held hope. They thought those words had merely been spoken out of spite and anger, and that he would take them back.
But no such thing happened. He repeated the same thing, day after day.
And over the years, I had accepted the truth. I had accepted my fate. Once, just once, I had tried to propose that I go to the Citadel instead. Even at the Citadel, I would have taken similar vows of not marrying and having children, and Dickon would still have been able to inherit the lordship.
But my father had dismissed it sharply. He said the Wall offered the proper environment. The environment where I would either man up or die. But somewhere deep inside, I knew it was only his way of punishing me.
He could not bear to see me fulfilling and indulging myself in my desires, in my hobbies, in the well of knowledge, when I had failed to fulfil his ambition of me being a warrior.
His decision had been final, and I never raised the issue again.
And then one day, everything changed. A little more than a year remained before I would have to leave for the Wall.
I was sitting in my room, absentmindedly gazing out of the window. A book was in my hands, but I had not been reading it.
At that very moment, a bird landed on my window. I did not pay much attention to it at first. But the bird kept staring at me, and then I noticed the parchment tied to its legs.
I moved forward, unhooked the parchment from its legs, and the bird bolted away. Written on that parchment was a letter that was going to change my life forever, something I could never even have dreamt of.
Samwell Tarly,
I know that by the time you finish reading this letter, you will be in a state of shock. You might think it as of joke. As someone trying to fool you. But I also know that you have enough sense to handle it with calm.
I know your circumstances. I know your interests. And I know your value. I realize your worth even more than you yourself do.
All this might be very shocking for you, but I need an able administrator. A person who can advise me, who speaks wisdom, and who is knowledgeable. And you are everything among them.
If you are interested in realising your true value, and in letting the entire world see your competency, an address is written on the back of this parchment. Go there. You will find two men waiting. They will bring you to me.
Lord Aeos
I could hardly believe what had been written in the letter. I literally thought it as some joke as had been mentioned in the letter. But… deep down, a little hope had lit up in my heart. What if the letter was authentic? Sending message through a bird. Not a lot of people could do it.
And at that moment, I decided to check up the address that had been written on the back of the parchment.
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