"From now on, you're one of mine"
As the blue and white sails of Redwyne's fleet unfurled in the morning light of the Dornish Sea, the vine emblems of the fleet fluttered in the sea breeze. Since the destruction of the Lys slave ships at the Stepstones, the fleet had sailed north along the coastline of the Stormlands, the salty sea breeze gradually fading the heat of Dorne and taking on a touch of the unique chill of Cape Wrath.
The first island we arrived at was Estermont. This small island, nestled south of Shipbreaker Bay, had a pale green coastline where the outline of Greenstone stood out clearly in the sunlight. The House Estermont's pale green turtle coat of arms hung above the castle gate, like a piece of emerald immersed in the sea.
As soon as Daemon landed on the dock on his Glutton, Earl Estermont and his eldest son came to greet him. The old lord, dressed in a grey robe embroidered with turtles and clutching a roll of parchment, said with a face darker than sea fog, "Your Highness, I have brought all the people you requested."
Looking in the direction he pointed, five men in leather armor were tied to the wooden stakes at the dock, all looking dejected. Two of them even had the insignia of Estermont's vassal lords pinned to their chests.
"These people are incredibly audacious, daring to engage in slave trading with the Lys behind my back!" Earl Estermont's eldest son stepped forward, pointing his riding crop at the eldest man. "Especially him, the young lord of the Horpeton family, who lied to me last year claiming his fleet had encountered Storm, when in reality he was delivering goods across the Narrow Sea."
Daemon had Rayford Rosby check the list, and after confirming that it was correct, he ordered the men to be put on a supply ship, to be sent to Storm's End for trial by the Duke of Boremund.
Earl Estermont breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the man being taken away, and then ordered his men to load supplies onto the ship.
The fleet continued westward and arrived near Mistwood the following morning.
The castle, nestled in the southern part of the Cape Wrath Rainwood, is surrounded by dense forests. A banner with a grey background and a white owl emblem flutters atop the gate tower, and the guards on the walls sound their horns as soon as they spot the Glutton's shadowy figure.
Earl Mertyns stood personally beneath the city gate, his black robe stained with fresh sawdust, a blood-stained dagger in his hand. "Your Highness, I have dealt with those suspected of human trafficking."
He pointed to the square inside the castle, where several corpses hung on the gallows, one of whom wore a robe embroidered with the coat of arms of a branch of the Maitalin family. "This is my own uncle. He not only participated himself, but also instigated other lords. I left no room for maneuver."
Daemon walked into the square, the air still thick with the stench of blood. Earl Mertyns's youngest son hid behind his mother, clutching a wooden owl carving in his hand, his eyes filled with fear.
Looking at the child, Gael whispered to Earl Mertyns, "It's good that the villains have been dealt with, but don't let the child see these things, lest they leave a lasting trauma."
Earl Mertyns was taken aback for a moment, then had a maid take his young son away and sent fresh fruit and water to the fleet. His tone was full of gratitude. "Your Highness and the Princess are kind-hearted; I will remember it."
Not all lords along the way were so cooperative. When they reached the fiefdom of an unknown minor lord, the lord not only refused to hand over the people, but also summoned his private army to try to stop them. Arrows even grazed the Glutton's scales.
Daemon didn't let the dragon breathe fire; instead, he had Leonno Strong lead Jarman Waters, Harlan Hunter, and others ashore. They quickly subdued the private army, tied the lord and his core followers to wooden planks, and sent a messenger to Storm's End: "Duke Boremund will let him know the price of defying the Iron Throne and the true dragons."
Larys Strong rode behind on his gray donkey, watching the lord being led away, a cold smile playing on his lips, "Overestimating himself, thinking he can act with impunity just by hiding in the Rainwood."
A few days later, the fleet finally arrived at Stonehelm. This House Swann was located at Cape Wrath on the north shore of the Dornish Sea. The black and white stone Watchtower pierced the sky, guarding the mouth of the River Slayne. The black and white swan coat of arms on the castle roof fluttered in the wind, exuding the unique majesty of Dornish Marches noble.
When Daemon landed on the dock riding his Glutton, he was still seething with anger. Johanna's uncle, Lord Swann of Stonehelm, had actually been so heartless as to "sell" his niece to slave traders. He wanted to confront him directly, but as soon as he landed, he was surrounded by a group of people dressed in swan-embroidered ceremonial robes. In the distance, several headless corpses hung on the castle walls; these must have been the owners of the heads of the human traffickers that had been sent over a few days earlier.
"Your Highness Daemon! Gael! You must be tired from your journey!" Lord Swann, at the head of the group, wore a black and white brocade robe with a swan emblem embroidered in silver thread on his chest, and held a silver goblet in his hand. "I have prepared a feast, with fresh fish just caught from the River Slayne and wild venison from the Cape Wrath. You must try it!"
His family members came forward one after another, some offering fruit, some offering fabrics, and even Johanna's cousin took her hand and said with a smile, "It's good that you're back, sister. Mom and I specially saved a new velvet dress for you." Their enthusiasm made Johanna forget why she came and she stood there stunned.
Daemon was about to question them, but Lord Swann pushed him toward the castle.
The courtyard of Stonehelm was filled with feasts. Roasted venison steamed on the long tables, amber liquor was poured into silver cups from pried open barrels, and bards played Roote in the corners. Their songs mingled with laughter, creating a festive atmosphere.
Lord Swann kept toasting Daemon, recounting the history of Stonehelm, from the Battle of River Slayne during the Andals invasion to Orys Baratheon's defeat of the Dornish here during the Dorne War. Even when mentioning the heads of the slave traders that had been sent there, he never once mentioned Johanna's abduction.
Johanna sat at the table, watching the lively scene before her and the smile on her uncle's face. She wanted to speak several times, but her cousin stopped her with fruit. Even the look Mysaria gave her made her hesitate—the atmosphere made it impossible to question her.
The dinner party didn't end until late at night. Daemon lay in bed, listening to the sound of the River Slayne flowing outside the window, feeling that there was something hidden behind this enthusiasm, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Gael and Mysaria skillfully slipped into Daemon's room, but even the naive Gael frowned at the unusual situation today. "This Swann is too enthusiastic, abnormally so. Johanna is completely bewildered by him." Mysaria nodded in agreement. "I asked Johanna's cousin, and she only said, 'Father dotes on my sister,' and wouldn't say anything else."
The following morning, the fleet prepared to officially set sail along the return route to Storm's End.
However, just as Daemon climbed onto the Glutton's dragon back, he heard the sound of rapid hoofbeats behind him.
Johanna, riding a white horse, her hair disheveled and tears still on her face, broke through the guards' obstruction and galloped towards the dock.
"Your Highness! Please wait for me!" She had just dismounted when she stumbled and rushed into Daemon's arms, bursting into tears, her shoulders trembling violently. This was the first time she had seen this strong young woman cry since Daemon and his men had rescued her that day.
Mysaria, who had developed feelings for Johanna over the past few days, quickly stepped forward to offer her a handkerchief, but Johanna dodged it.
Gael dismounted from Dreamfyre's back and walked over, asking softly, "What's wrong? Did your uncle bully you?"
Johanna just shook her head, cried for a while, and then choked out the truth. "I—I found out from my cousin last night—at first my family thought I had died in a shipwreck, then the Lys sent me a letter in my own handwriting, but my uncle—he had no intention of ransoming me at all, and even told my cousin and the others that I was missing, which saved them a dowry—"
Daemon held the girl's trembling body, the three-headed dragon brand on his right shoulder slightly burning, and a surge of anger welled up in his heart—it turned out that the enthusiasm of the crowd was just a facade to cover up indifference.
He patted Johanna's back, looking at the future "Black Swan" in his arms, his voice gentle and steady. "Don't cry. From now on, stay with us, and no one will dare to bully you again."
Gael sighed and took Mysaria's hand. "Little Mei, take Hannah to the carriage to rest. Change her into one of my clothes. From today onwards, she will be my maid and come with us."
Johanna looked up at Daemon and Gael with teary eyes. Her lips moved as if she wanted to say thank you, but she choked up and couldn't speak.
So Gael took her hand again and gently wiped away her tears. "Don't be afraid, you're mine now."
The Glutton let out a low growl, as if in comfort. Daemon turned his dragon head toward Stonehelm —the black and white Watchtower still stood, but the swan emblem that once symbolized majesty now appeared to him with a hint of hypocritical coldness.
The fleet slowly sailed away from the dock. Lord Swann and his family were still waving at the castle gate, their smiles still warm, but no one knew what kind of cold indifference was hidden behind those smiles.
The winds of Cape Wrath whipped up Johanna's skirt as the girl sat in the carriage, watching Stonehelm gradually shrink. Tears welled up in her eyes again, but this time they were no longer tears of despair, but rather tears of relief after a heavy burden had been lifted.
Daemon rode the Glutton, flying above the fleet, gazing towards Storm's End. He knew there was still much to be done: to formally try the lords who trafficked people at Storm's End, to appease victims like Johanna, and to deal with the impending crisis in King's Landing —none of which could be neglected.
Sunlight spilled across the surface of the Dornish Sea, creating shimmering waves. The blue and white sails of the fleet stretched across the water like a road leading to justice and hope, and the addition of Johanna, the "Black Swan," brought an extra layer of warmth to the team, one that needed to be protected.