The stag rode the waves, the wolf crossed the sea

The docks of King's Landing's Landing have been soaked in the salty sea breeze for days, and the stone pavement has been polished to a shine by the hooves of the lords' chariots.

Jeyne and Rhea's family had just settled into their room at the Red Keep when the Stormlands fleet appeared on the Blackwater Bay – the Crowned Stag flag fluttered in the wind, and the deep green and black-gold sails filled the bay like a moving forest.

Daemon stood at the very front of the pier, his left hand held by Rhaenyra. The little princess, still half asleep, nuzzled her head against his leg.

On the right, Gael was holding Jeyne House Arryn, the little girl was playing with Gael's silver hair, and her silver fox cloak was covered with sand brought by the sea breeze.

Little Mei and Hannah followed behind, Little Mei carrying sweet cakes for the children, while Hannah carried a cloth bag containing diapers and toys.

Since the lords he met on the tour began to arrive, Daemon had to attend the Small Council every morning, handle intelligence on the Dark Blade Guard in the morning, and coordinate the resettlement of the lords in the afternoon. If it weren't for their help, Jeyne and Rhaenyra would have turned the Red Keep up with chaos.

Of course, there's also the reason why Daemon doesn't have time to spend with them. After all, Daemon has to deal with the constant pampering from his "new mother," Lady Jocelyn, and his "sister," Rhaenys. Even Alysanne, who is known for spoiling her children, and Aemma, who wants to take care of Daemon, can't get involved.

However, recalling that the Red Keep's morning bells had just rung for the third time this morning, and that he had just come out of the side hall of the Small Council clutching half a roll of intelligence reports, he remembered...

Rayford's voice came from the end of the corridor, urgent and barely suppressed. "Your Highness! The Stormlands fleet has arrived! Duke Boremund's flagship has entered Blackwater Bay!"

He raised his hand and rubbed his throbbing temples. He had been organizing the movements of the vassal states that had arrived in King's Landing until late last night, and Otto had been pressing him for the patrol records of the Dark Blade Guard. He hadn't even had time to have a cup of morning tea.

As they walked towards the courtyard, they bumped into Gael carrying Rhaenyra, with Mysaria and Johanna following behind. Jeyne, tugging at Gael's skirt, stumbled along with her short legs, shouting, "Little Daemon! I want to go pick someone up too! Aunt Aemma said the knights of the Stormlands carry antlers!"

"I'll take you." Reluctantly, she bent down and scooped up Jeyne, who had lunged at her. Then she reached into Gael and took little Rhaenyra, who had woken up sometime earlier and was clutching Gael's silver hair, babbling softly. "But be good, don't run around."

Before Daemon's memories could even drift back from the Red Keep that morning, Rayford's voice interrupted Daemon from Daemon.

"They're here!" He pointed to the flagship at the very front, the stag's head carved on its prow gleaming bronze in the sunlight. "It's the Duke of Boremund's Storm's Breath!"

The group walked towards the front of the Blackwater Bay Wharf, and from afar they could hear the deafening sound of horns.

The fleet of ships in Stormlands spread out in the morning light, with the lead ship, the "Storm's Breath," adorned with a huge Crowned Stag on its prow. Its gold and black banner fluttered in the wind, making it appear even more majestic than when Daemon had seen it at Storm's End six months earlier.

Boremund Baratheon stood at the ship's railing, the stag emblem on his dark gray armor gleaming coldly, while Borros Baratheon leaped about on the deck, his short black hair whipped about by the sea breeze. He spotted Daemon from afar and waved, shouting, "Little Daemon! Over here!"

The Dark Blade Guard on the dock were already lined up, and Jarman Waters's one eye swept over the fleet.

Larys, leaning on his cane, stood to one side, the hem of his black robe sweeping across the pebbles on the ground. Seeing Daemon approach, he whispered, "Duke Boremund has brought the twelve lords of Stormlands this time, Roland Clinton, Lorent Grandson, and—and— Criston Cole, whom you have your eye on, is here too."

Daemon nodded, and not far ahead, the "Storm's Breath" docked smoothly.

Boremund led the Stormlands lords off the ramp first, his hand on the sword at his waist. His gaze swept across the crowd, finally settling on Jocelyn. His previously imposing eyes softened instantly. "Jocelyn."

Jocelyn hurried to meet him, the hem of her black dress sweeping across the stone steps, and took her brother's arm. "Brother, you must be tired from your journey. How is things at Storm's End?"

"With me here, things won't get chaotic." Boremund patted his sister's hand, then turned to Daemon, his gaze falling on the two children in his arms— Jeyne curiously touching his armor, and Rhaenyra clutching Daemon's silver hair. "These are Miss Jeyne from the Vale and our Princess Rhaenyra? And you, Little Daemon, you've become quite the leader of the kids in a while."

"They're all so clingy." Daemon chuckled as he handed Jeyne House Arryn to Boremund. The little girl, unfazed, reached out to touch the stag pattern on his armor as Bomond took it. "Grandpa, I've heard there are many deer in the forests of your Stormlands, is that true?"

Jeyne's innocent remarks caused the Stormlands lords who were on good terms with Bomengsi to burst into laughter, and even Borros, the Duke's "silly son," was covering his mouth and chuckling with his brothers.

However, it was only then that Borros, along with his "brothers," squeezed through his father and a group of "elders and uncles."

But as soon as the "wild deer" arrived, it hooked its arm around Daemon's shoulder, the chains of its black robe digging painfully into him. "Little Daemon! We've finally met again! Last time we hunted at Griffin's Roost, I injured my hand, and you still owe me a match! This time at the tournament, we can settle things once and for all!"

Before he could finish speaking, Lorent Grandson tugged at him from behind, reminding him to watch his manners. "Don't make a sound, I'm not awake yet."

The heir to the Grandview, dressed in a yellow robe with black lion patterns, had his eyes half-open and half-closed, clutching a leather sleeping bag in his hand. "Your Highness, I brought some fruit wine from the Grandview. It's definitely better than that guy Borros's ale. We'll have a few drinks tonight."

"Me too!" Roland Clinton squeezed in, his red hair blazing like fire in the sunlight, a newly forged spear in his hand. "Your Highness, you let me win the last hunt, but this time at the tournament, I want to fight you fair and square!"

Daemon smiled and agreed, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. Theogood Fell and the Willie brothers were asking Rayford about the Dark Blade Guard. Jon Cavallon was secretly handing a wooden deer to Daemon. Criston Cole, standing ramrod straight beside Alaric Dondarrion, had his light green eyes fixed on the Blackfyre at Daemon's waist with a hint of admiration.

"Criston, has your swordsmanship improved lately?" Daemon asked with a smile.

Criston knelt on one knee, his voice still steady. "Thanks to Your Highness, I've been practicing swordsmanship with Alaric these past few days, and I'm more stable than before."

Watching this scene, Boremund smiled at Jocelyn and said, "You didn't misjudge him. Little Daemon can not only fight, but he can also command the respect of so many young people."

Jocelyn's eyes were full of relief as she gently patted Daemon's back. "Don't just talk to them, Rhaenys and the children should be here soon too."

Daemon turned his head and saw Rhaenys riding Meleys from the direction of the Dragonpit, landing on the dock, followed by Laena and Laenor.

Four-year-old Laenor, dressed in silver riding gear, had just dismounted from the dragon's back, a seashell in his hand, and ran towards Daemon: "Uncle Daemon! I want to ride the Glutton too! You mentioned it last time!" But Daemon simply pushed him into the arms of his other uncle, Borros.

"Alright, after the tournament, I'll have Big Daemon take you dragon riding." Daemon replied politely, taking the seashell from her and handing it to Rhaenyra. The little girl immediately clutched it in her hand, giggling.

Rhaenys walked over, the hem of her black and red riding outfit sweeping the ground. "Your uncle, all you do is coax children. Laena and Laenor have been talking about you every day these past few days. Laenor even said he wanted me to ride Meleys and you riding Glutton flies faster."

Boremund looked at Rhaenys and her family, smiling and nodding, "Even though Corlys isn't here, with you all here, it's like a family reunion."

He turned to Jocelyn, his voice softening, "If Father were still here, he would be so happy to see us like this."

Jocelyn's eyes reddened slightly, and she nodded gently. "Yes, he loved us siblings the most when he was alive."

Just then, a deep horn sound came from afar. Unlike the brass horns of the Stormlands, this horn sound had a heavy, distinctive sound of the the North, like ice hitting rocks.

Larys walked over to Daemon, a knowing glint in his dark eyes. "It's a fleet from the the North, the Manderly family's Mermaid."

Daemon looked up and saw several large black wooden ships at the end of Blackwater Bay. The prows were carved with silver mermaids, and the sails were embroidered with the Direwolf emblem of Winterfell and the blue-and-silver fish pattern of the Manderly family, all gleaming coldly in the morning light.

Unlike the bustling fleet in the Stormlands, the ships in the the North exuded a calm chill, with even the sailors wearing thick wool cloaks, their movements swift yet unassuming.

"Lord Ellard has arrived." Viserys's voice came from behind. He walked over and took Rhaenyra from Daemon's arms, with Aemma following beside him. "The lords of the the North rarely come to King's Landing's Landing. Lord Ellard's presence this time is quite a show of respect."

When the fleet docked, Earl Manderly, with his large belly, stepped off the gangplank to scout ahead. He was wearing a blue and silver suit today, and the mermaid emblem on his chest was so dazzling that it made people dizzy.

Behind him, two servants pushed a wheelchair in which sat Lord Ellard Stark, Warden of the Warden of the North.

The Duke wore a dark gray wool cloak, his face pale but his eyes sharp as an eagle's. To his left stood a boy in brown armor, William Dustin, son of Rodrik Dustin, and to his right a tall young man, his leather armor stained with snow dust from the the North, none other than Brandon Stark, Duke Ellard's distant cousin, known as the "Wild Wolf of the North."

"Little Daemon!" Brandon rushed over as soon as he saw Daemon, hugging him so tightly that Daemon almost let go of Jeyne. "Brother, you said you'd come to our house for a bear hunt when you left the the North and were in White Harbor. Why haven't you come yet? I even told Father I wanted to have a race with you to see who can fight faster!"

Daemon laughed and slapped his hand away, "We just finished a tour. Once the tournament is over, I'll definitely come to the the North to find you."

Brandon then noticed Jeyne and Rhaenyra running into Daemon's arms again, and scratched his head. "These are the little duke of the Vale and the little princess of the royal family? So cute."

Jeyne, unafraid of strangers, reached out and touched the wolf pattern on his leather armor. "Are you a wolf rider?"

Duke Ellard was brought forward, his voice gentle yet carrying the composure of the the North: "Your Highness Daemon, it's been a long time. The journey to the the North is long, and I apologize for being late."

He pointed to William Dustin: "This is Rodrik's son, he's come with me to broaden his horizons, you should remember him; Brandon is a wild fellow, having him along will help keep an eye on things."

"Your Grace, you are too kind." Daemon bowed. "The journey to the the North is long, and Your Grace's presence is already a great honor. But—where are Benjen and his family, and the other lords?"

Brandon spoke first, his voice booming. "Don't even mention it! Benjen is going to guard Winterfell, and as for those lords, they're all old foxes, none of them are honest. Some say they want to guard the the Neck, others say they're afraid of Ironborn attacking!"

Some say that winter is coming, making it inconvenient to travel south, and we should be wary of Wildlings near our territory!

Duke Ellard nodded slightly and added, "The North is not like the South; the lords are increasingly wary of the South."

But rest assured, as long as the Iron Throne requires it, the Direwolf banner of Winterfell will always fly for the true dragon.

Daemon a warmth in his heart and was about to speak when Gael walked over and handed him a pancake, "You've been busy all morning, have something to eat first. I'll hold Jeyne and Rhaenyra for you, and Little Mei and Hannah have prepared some water over there."

Mysaria and Johanna also came over. Mysaria took Jeyne from her, and Johanna helped Rhaenyra straighten her skirt. The two little girls quickly started playing together. Jeyne even took the seashell that Rhaenyra handed her and told the young Rhaenyra about the clouds in the Vale.

Watching this heartwarming scene, Boremund smiled at Duke Ellard and said, "It seems our Little Daemon can be not only a warrior, but also a patriarch."

Duke Ellard nodded with a smile, "That's how the blood of the true dragon is, just like His Majesty Jaehaerys back then, always able to bring people together."

As the sun rose higher, the docks grew increasingly crowded. The lords of Stormlands gathered around Boremund, discussing the tournament, while the the North inquired about King's Landing from Viserys. Brandon pulled Borros aside, and the two like-minded men insisted on a sword fight. Lorent found a shady spot, leaned against a pillar, and fell asleep again. Roland Clinton discussed spear techniques with Lyonel Corbray.

Daemon stood in the center of the crowd, looking at the people around him— Jocelyn and Boremund talking about the old days of Storm's End, Rhaenys and Aemma playing with Laena and Laenor, Gael and Mysaria, Johanna playing with several children, Duke Ellard discussing the the North's harvest with the envoy sent by Jaehaerys, and Brandon's laughter mingling with the horns of the Stormlands.

He suddenly felt that all the busyness was worthwhile. The pressure of the Small Council and the exhaustion of organizing intelligence were transformed into a warm feeling in his heart amidst the lively and cozy atmosphere. The Blackfyre in his right hand rested against his waist, and the three-headed dragon brand on his left shoulder was slightly warm, as if echoing this sense of belonging.

"It's time to return to the Red Keep." Viserys walked over and patted him on the shoulder. "The old man is still waiting to meet Duke Ellard and Duke Boremund."

Daemon nodded, reached out and took Rhaenyra from him. The little one immediately hugged his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

Jeyne rushed over and tugged at his cloak. "Little Daemon, I want to ride a dragon too!"

"Alright, when we get back to the Red Keep, let the Glutton take us for a spin." Daemon agreed with a smile, looking up at the Red Keep in the distance—a tower glowing a dark red in the morning light, like a giant dragon guarding its family.

The Crowned Stag banner of the Stormlands, the stag banner of the Icefields of the the North, the silver moon and blue eagle banner of the Vale, the red, blue, and silver trout banner of the Riverlands, and the black banner with a red dragon of the Targaryen, fluttered in the wind at the docks, like an unfolding scroll of the Seven Kingdoms.

Daemon knew that this gathering, brought about by the tournament, was not only a rallying of the lords at the call of the Iron Throne, but also the beginning of the bonds between the Seven Kingdoms —and he would carry this bond, protecting those before him and this land.

The group marched in a grand procession toward the Red Keep, the laughter of children, the conversations of the princes, and the low growls of dragons mingling together, echoing the sound of the waves in Blackwater Bay, adding a warm touch to this gathering that spanned north and south.