King's Landing welcomes old friends

The morning light in King's King's Landing today carried a sense of pre-festival restlessness. The main road outside the Red Keep was already lined with black banners bearing the coat of arms of a three-headed red dragon, symbolizing the royal Targaryen Lineage. When the wind blew, the fabric fluttered like countless small drums gently tapping in one's ear.

Vendors set up stalls on both sides of the street, some selling freshly baked wheat cakes, some displaying small ornaments embroidered with dragon patterns, and even the Smith hanging up a half-finished sword as a gimmick, shouting "For use in martial arts tournaments, cuts iron like mud," attracting passersby to stop and watch.

Daemon stood on the reception platform outside the Red Keep, holding Rhaenyra in his arms. His long, silver-gold hair was blown by the wind and clung to his neck, while the hem of his dark red brocade robe swept across the stone steps.

The little princess in his arms was dressed in a light blue dress today, her tiny hand tightly clutching a strand of his silver hair. She had a small silver pacifier in her mouth, which she would occasionally spit out, cooing at the birds in the sky. Aemma couldn't help but laugh, "This child, she's been spending so much time with you lately, even the way she looks at the birds is as focused as when you practice your sword."

Viserys stood in the center of the welcoming party, dressed in a dark black suit with a three-headed red dragon embroidered with agate on his chest that gleamed. He was talking quietly with his friend Master of Laws Otto Hightower.

Seeing Daemon carrying Rhaenyra as they approached, he quickly went to greet them, "Little Daemon, you've finally arrived. The Buckwell Household have already reached the outskirts of the Old Gate, and Jarman will probably see them soon. Keep an eye on them." Clearly, this great-great-grandfather "cousin" had privately learned quite a bit about Daemon's followers from his friend.

Daemon nodded, glancing down at Rhaenyra in his arms—the little one was reaching for the Blackfyre that Gael and Little Mei had made for him, her face full of curiosity.

Helpless, Daemon could only gently hold her hand and coax his great-grandmother in as soft a voice as possible, "Stop it, sweetie, this isn't a toy."

Rhaenyra refused, her little mouth pouting and tears almost falling. Daemon had no choice but to untie the sword tassel and hand it to her. The little girl immediately stopped crying and started laughing, clutching the tassel and waving it around.

"You always have a way with things." Aemma walked over and straightened Rhaenyra's askew skirt. "Viserys and I spent ages coaxing her this morning, but she wouldn't wear this dress. But as soon as you held her, she became as docile as a kitten."

Daemon chuckled and shook his head, his gaze sweeping over the welcoming party below—the black-robed members of the Dark Blade Guard stood in two rows, the scabbards of their short swords gleaming coldly at their waists. Jarman had gone to the Old Gate and was now there to greet the Rosby Household's party arriving from Rosby Road, so Rayford Rosby naturally stood at the head of the welcoming party at the Iron Gate, his posture upright, occasionally giving instructions to Lucas Tyrell beside him;

On the other side, the Gold Cloaks wore dazzling golden armor. Daemon Targaryen stood among them, his short silver-gold hair gleaming in the sunlight. He was holding a scroll and checking the list with his team members. Occasionally, he would look up and exchange a glance with Rayford, and the two would nod in tacit agreement.

"Black robes paired with gold robes, it really looks like a painting." Viserys followed his gaze, his tone full of admiration. "I was worried that the two teams would clash, but because of you two Daemon, things are much more harmonious than I imagined."

Daemon didn't speak, but gently patted Rhaenyra's back. He knew that this harmony wasn't just because of their time together these past few days and the connection of their bloodline and "name"—most of the Dark Blade Guard members were followers who had joined him during his travels through the Seven Kingdoms, and many of the "veterans" had spent time with Daemon Targaryen in the Riverlands;

As for the Gold Cloaks, they were the city guards that Daemon Targaryen reorganized and replaced after returning to King's Landing. Most of them also admired Daemon's great achievements during his travels through the Seven Kingdoms.

Therefore, both groups naturally understood the close relationship between their leaders and had the responsibility of "protecting the King's Landing." In addition, they were familiar with or admired each other's leaders, so they were even less likely to cause trouble for each other.

But just then, the sound of horses' hooves came from the far end of Rosby Road outside the city gate.

Rayford immediately raised his hand to signal, and the members of the Dark Blade Guard instantly straightened their backs;

Daemon Targaryen also put away his scroll, and the Gold Cloaks men gripped their spears tightly, their gazes fixed on the end of the road—

A troop of men in gray armor slowly approached, their armor bearing the striking three red "human" emblems—the very symbol of the House Rosby.

"The Earl of Rosby has arrived!" Viserys straightened his suit and strode down the platform. Daemon followed behind, carrying Rhaenyra, with Aemma close behind.

In the lead carriage, Earl Rosby was helped down by his eldest son, Gyles Rosby.

The old Earl looked much better than when Daemon had just passed through Rosby on his tour earlier this year. His previously pale cheeks had regained some color, and even his gait was much more steady, though he still needed assistance.

Upon seeing Viserys, he immediately smiled, "Your Highness Viserys, it's been a long time! You've grown quite a bit stronger."

"Is Earl Excellency feeling better?" Viserys reached out to support him, his voice full of concern. "When I saw you a few years ago, you still needed a wheelchair. You've really improved a lot over the years; you can even ride a horse now."

"Thanks to His the Conciliator and His Highness Prince Baelon," Earl Rosby nodded with a smile, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings before finally settling on Rayford, his eyes filled with satisfaction. "Ford, come here."

Rayford strode over and bowed to his father. "Father."

Earl Rosby patted him on the shoulder, then glanced at his black robes. "Your growth and achievements while following Daemon these past six months have been no less impressive Rosby Household's. Your mother at home keeps talking about you, saying that the intelligence reports you sent back last time were much neater in handwriting than before."

Rayford's ears turned slightly red. Just as he was about to speak, Daemon walked over and said with a smile, "Earl Excellency, rest assured, Rayford not only has excellent handwriting, but he is also exceptionally reliable in handling affairs. He even helped to formulate the patrol routes for the Dark Blade Guard."

Upon hearing this, the Earl of Rosby's smile deepened, and he bowed to Daemon: "Thank you for your guidance, Your Highness."

"It is my son's blessing to be with you."

Gyles nodded in agreement, patting Rayford on the back as he used to do. "Little brother, stick with His Highness. It seems the Rosby Household will have to rely on you to make a name for themselves in King's Landing from now on."

Rayford nodded emphatically, his eyes filled with determination. Daemon watched this scene, his heart filled with warmth. Since joining the team, Rayford had always been steady and reliable, and now that he had gained his family's approval, it was as if one of his wishes had been fulfilled.

Not long after the Rosby family left, another group of people arrived from the Dragon Gate.

This time, the banner was the silver background with a red salmon pattern of the House Mooton. The man at the head of the group was wearing a silver-white robe. He was tall and strong, with a slightly cynical smile on his face. It seemed that he had indeed lost a lot of weight under the supervision of the Earl in the past six months. He was none other than Earl Jonah Mooton of Maidenpool.

Behind him followed his wife, Lady Freyana, and several attendants. Of course, the most conspicuous person in the procession was Myles Rivers, who, with Daemon's permission, had run ahead to carry his the North battle axe to pick up his brother and sister-in-law.

"Viserys Highness Viserys! Daemon Highness Damon!" Jonah Mooton called out from afar, dismounting with a swift and agile movement, unlike the "unreliable" nobleman he was supposed to be. "I'm finally here! I was held up on the way by a bunch of merchants who kept trying to sell me some kind of tournament lucky charm," saying that hanging it around a horse's neck would guarantee victory. I think it's just a scam!

Lady Freyana patted his shoulder helplessly and curtsied to Viserys and Daemon: "Your Highness, please forgive my rudeness. Since we were young servants, and I've returned to King's Landing, my husband still loves to join in the fun, just like always."

Daemon chuckled and shook his head, his gaze falling on Myles. Myles had just put down his battle axe when Jonah grabbed his shoulder. The two brothers, in their haste to get going, barely had time to chat. "Myles! You've grown quite a bit stronger since your trip with His Highness! In your last letter you sent back, you said you fought a wild boar in the Stormlands, is that true? Tell me, how big was that boar?"

Myles's face flushed instantly, and he scratched his head. "Well... he's not that big, just a little taller than me."

"Taller than you?" Joe's eyes lit up, and he pulled him aside. "Tell me the details! I fought wild boars when I was young, but I was chased by one and had to climb a tree—it was so embarrassing!"

Lady Freyana watched the two figures disappear into the distance and smiled helplessly, "Your Highness, you see, those two brothers have so much to talk about as soon as they meet. Myles lost his father at a young age, and although he is an illegitimate child, Jonah raised him, treating him no worse than his own brother."

Daemon nodded, understanding dawning on his mind. Although Myles was a bastard, he was able to receive Jonah's genuine treatment. This kind of luck was not something every bastard had. He recalled that in both his past and present lives, he had encountered many bastards who had been abandoned by lords, some of whom didn't even have names and could only survive by stealing. In comparison, Myles was indeed much luckier.

Just then, Daemon noticed that Jarman Waters had returned and was standing at the rear of the Dark Blade Guard, his gaze fixed on a group of people coming from the Old Gate not far away.

The group of men wore brown armor, with the stag antler emblem on their armor particularly striking—the very symbol of the Buckwell Household.

Jarman's one eye was fixed on a middle-aged man in the group, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the bow and arrow at his waist, his expression growing colder and colder.

Before Daemon could speak, Jarman turned and walked over, bowing to him. "Your Highness, the Buckwell Household has arrived. I'd like to go back and handle the intelligence with Larys first. With Rayford and the others here, there won't be any problems maintaining order."

Daemon looked at his tense jaw and understood perfectly well that Jarman didn't want to see the Buckwell Household.

He recalled the night Jarman joined the ranks. Under the moonlight, the silent bastard knelt before him, clutching a rusty sword, his voice hoarse as he begged to be taken in, "Your Highness, I have no family, no land, only this sword and my archery skills. If you will take me in, I will go through fire and water for you."

That night, Daemon saw a forbearance and determination in his eyes unlike that of other illegitimate children, which is why he decided to take in this guy who was "shoved in" by the Buckwell Household. Now it seems that the Buckwell Household is probably the past that he doesn't want to talk about.

"Alright, go ahead." Daemon nodded, his tone flat. "Tell Larys that the intelligence isn't urgent, and tell him not to overwork himself."

Jarman bowed in agreement, then turned and walked towards the Red Keep without glancing at the Buckwell Household's group again.

Daemon watched his retreating figure, then glanced at Myles, who was chatting and laughing with Jonah not far away. He suddenly felt a pang of emotion. Both were bastards, Myles had Jonah's protection, while Jarman could only struggle to survive on his own.

As for himself, he only talks about this life, not his past life. Although his present life has been legalized and recognized by his current family, and he even has the status of being a "legitimate child" designated by Jaehaerys, he still carries the label of "Prince Aemon's illegitimate son." Just like the label of "noble illegitimate son" in his previous life, he walks cautiously in the power game between the royal family and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, just like in his previous life.

"What are you thinking about?" Viserys walked over and followed his gaze. "Is Jarman having another argument with the Buckwell Household?"

Myles seized the opportunity to nod, then sighed softly, "He said he joined the team to get away from the Buckwell Household. Apparently, when he was a child, the Buckwell Household always bullied him and wouldn't even give him a full meal."

Viserys's face darkened, but he was also filled with helplessness. No matter where they were, bastards could not be taken seriously. Even in Dorne, no matter how much they proclaimed that their bastards also had the right to inherit, in front of their legitimate heirs, bastards were nothing more than the most unwelcome "servants".

After all, in Westeros, bastards are often considered, even universally acknowledged, to be inherently greedy, hypocritical, and of low birth. Even if both parents are nobles, they are often said to have been born into the wrong family.

Daemon didn't say anything more, but just looked down at Rhaenyra in his arms. The little one was already asleep, her tiny hand still clutching the sword tassel, her face full of peace.

Everything he is doing now is not only to protect the Targaryen, but also to give more bastards like Myles and Jarman the opportunity to break free from the shackles of fate and live with dignity.

As the sun began to set, the streets of King's Landing remained bustling. The Rosby Household and Mooton Household had already been settled into their guest rooms in King's Landing, and the Buckwell Household, greeted by Viserys, entered the King's Landing. Only Jarman's figure had not yet appeared in the direction of the city gates.

Daemon stood in the welcoming line, holding Rhaenyra in his arms, gazing at the distant sky.

The black -Dark Blade Guard and the Gold Cloaks guards stood neatly on both sides of the avenue, like two protective barriers King's Landing.

Rayford was checking the guest list with Daemon Targaryen, the two occasionally chatting and laughing. Colin and Alyn were tidying up the welcoming flags nearby, while Myles was telling Jonah about the fun they had during the parade. Lady Freyana stood by, watching them tenderly.

This scene was as heartwarming as a painting. Daemon knew that no matter what storms lay ahead, as long as these people were by his side, he could maintain this peace—maintain the liveliness of King's Landing, protect the smile of the baby in his arms, and safeguard the trust of his followers.

As night fell, the lights of the Red Keep came on, like stars scattered in the darkness.

Daemon carried Rhaenyra toward the Red Keep, with Aemma and Viserys following behind. In the distance, the shouts of vendors packing up their stalls mingled with the chimes of the Red Keep, like a warm nocturne, gently drawing a conclusion to the prelude to this grand tournament.