Farewells on Blackwater Bay
The next morning, before the King's Landing's Landing, the Blackwater Bay docks were already bustling with activity—not the clamor of the martial arts tournament, but a busy activity tinged with a touch of melancholy.
Yesterday's masts, adorned with the flags of Seven Kingdoms, are now gradually raising their sails. The rustling of the sails in the sea breeze, mingled with the shouts of sailors, the cries of children, and the farewells of nobles, has become the most unique melody King's Landing today, after the tournament has ended.
The cobblestone path at the dock was still damp with dew. Daemon held Gael's hand as they stood on the pier, Grey Ghost huddled at his feet, its pale grey scales gleaming faintly in the morning mist.
Not far away, the Glutton hovered high in the sky, their dark dragon wings occasionally brushing against the gun barrels on the dock, emitting a low dragon roar, as if accompanying a farewell.
Mysaria and Johanna followed behind, while Brienne and Lia stood with Budimir at the end of the pier, their hands on their sword hilts, their eyes scanning the passing crowds with vigilance—even in parting, their duty of protection never wavered.
The first to prepare to set sail were actually the House Velaryon fleet from Tidehead Island, which arrived last.
Our "Sea Snake," Corlys House Velaryon's flagship, the "Sea Snake," was moored in the most prominent position, its sails embroidered with the House Velaryon's silver seahorse pattern, appearing and disappearing in the morning mist.
Meleys hovered in mid-air above the stern deck, its pale red scales gleaming in the morning light. Every now and then, it would lower its head and nuzzle Laena's palm, eliciting a clear, cheerful laugh from the little girl.
Rhaenys, carrying Laenor, walked up to Daemon and Gael, a gentle smile on her face, "We should go now, little brother."
She reached out and touched Daemon's cheek, then her gaze fell on Gael, her eyes full of entrustment, "Gael, from now on you must take good care of yourself, and also keep an eye on him, don't let him always be fooling around with Big Daemon."
Gael blushed and nodded vigorously, "Don't worry, sister, I will." Ever since the engagement was confirmed, she had started addressing Aemon and his family as Daemon did. She took a small cloth bag from her bosom and handed it to Laena, who was disembarking, "This contains honey cakes; eat them on the way."
Laena took the cloth bag, stood on tiptoe, and hugged Gael around the waist. "Aunt Gael, I'll miss you!"
Laenor broke free of Rhaenys's hand, ran to Daemon's side, and grabbed his cloak. "Uncle Little Daemon, when are you coming to Tidehead Island to see me? I still want to play with Grey Ghost."
Daemon crouched down, ruffled his hair, and decisively sold out his namesake great-grandfather "cousin": "Once the Joint Fleet training is over, your Uncle Big Daemon and I will go. We'll have him take you riding the Caraxes, okay?"
Upon hearing that he could ride a dragon, Laenor's eyes lit up instantly, and he nodded emphatically, "Great!"
Corlys walked over, patted Daemon on the shoulder, and said with a hint of seriousness, "Regarding the Joint Fleet, I've already discussed it with Baelon. Tidehead Island will send ten warships, which will assemble at Blackwater Bay next month."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Gael and Laena beside her, "Take good care of your future wife, don't let us down."
Daemon nodded. "Don't worry, I will."
As the horn sounded, Corlys turned and stepped onto the springboard, with Rhaenys carrying Laenor and holding Laena's hand as they followed behind.
Meleys let out a dragon's roar, spread his wings, and flew to the airspace above the gun barrel of the "Sea Snake".
Daemon and Gael waved as they watched the "Sea Snake" slowly sail away from the dock, its sails gradually disappearing into the morning mist.
"See you next time, Rhaenys!" Gael shouted at the departing ship, her voice trembling with emotion as she bid farewell.
Daemon gently squeezed her hand and whispered reassuringly, "We'll meet again."
Not long after the group that had just bid farewell to High Tide, the fleet from the the North was also ready.
The Manderly family's longships lined up in White Harbor, their prows adorned with carvings of white whales. Duke Edric Stark, in a wheelchair, sat atop the foremost longship, his grey cloak billowing in the sea breeze.
Brandon Stark and William Dustin flanked the Duke on either side, while Harmund Umber and Jon Umber stood at the stern, carrying their spoils from the King's Landing expedition, waving in Daemon's direction.
"Little Daemon!" Brandon's booming voice pierced the morning mist, "Next time we go to the the North, I'm going to have a serious match with you! Whoever loses has to buy the other ale!"
Daemon laughed and waved in response, mimicking the jokes he shared with Borros and Big Daemon: "Alright! Don't come crying when you lose!"
Before leaving, Duke Edric had William push him toward Daemon, and bowed slightly to Daemon, saying, "Thank you, Your Highness, for taking care of Brandon and the others at this tournament. The North will keep its promise and send five longships to join the Joint Fleet, to be led by Earl Manderly next month."
Daemon nodded. "Your Excellency is too kind. The North coastline is long, and if there is Ironborn harassment, we can send someone to deliver a message at any time."
A hint of approval flashed in Duke Edric's eyes, and he waved for William to push him around and onto the longship behind them.
The horns sounded again, and the longships from the the North slowly sailed away from the dock.
Brandon clung to the ship's railing and shouted in Daemon's direction, "Don't forget our promise!"
Daemon waved until the sails of the longship disappeared into the morning mist before turning his gaze away.
The Grey Ghost suddenly raised its head and called out in the direction of the the North fleet, as if responding to Brandon's farewell on behalf of Daemon.
The last fleet to set sail today is the Stormlands fleet. The sails of the flagship of Duke Boremund Baratheon, the "Storm's Breath," are embroidered with the black Crowned Stag of the House Baratheon.
Borros Baratheon stood on the deck, playfully wrestling with Lorent Grandson beside him.
Lorent yawned, clearly still half asleep, and was pushed by Borros, causing him to stumble and fall, which made the younger generation of Stormlands around him burst into laughter.
When Borros saw Daemon come to see him off, he immediately jumped onto the pier and put his arm around Damon's shoulder. "Little Daemon! It's such a pity we couldn't compete this year! Next time you go to Storm's End, we'll both bring our brothers, and we'll have to have a contest to see who's better!"
Daemon smiled and nodded, "Sure! I'll show you then. I'll be spending the next six months practicing some new moves."
Duke Boremund approached and bowed formally and solemnly to Daemon and Gael, his tone steady. "Your Highness, Princess, please convey to His Majesty and the Crown Prince that our Stormlands will send eight warships to join the Joint Fleet, led by Borros. That lad is impetuous; Your Highness will need to put in extra effort to guide him in the future."
Borros immediately retorted, "Father! I'm not rash!" which drew laughter from everyone.
Jocelyn handed a box of honey cakes to Borros: "Eat this on the way, don't keep getting into fights."
Borros took the box, scratched his head, and said, "Okay, Aunt Jocelyn."
He turned and ran back to the deck, yelling at Daemon, "Little Daemon! See you next time! Let's beat those Dorne bugs and those Three Whores pirates together!"
As the farewell drew to a close, the Duke of Boremund, having finished his official duties, felt at ease enough to speak privately. He gave some instructions to his "nephew" Daemon and his sister Jocelyn before boarding the ship.
The fleet from Stormlands slowly sailed away from the dock. Borros stood at the stern, waving his arms, until the sails of the "Storm's Breath" disappeared on the horizon.
Gael leaned on Daemon's shoulder and whispered, "They're all gone."
Daemon lowered his head and gently kissed her forehead. "It's okay, we'll meet again."
Seeing the two of them flaunting their affection as if no one else was around, a helpless Jocelyn could only shake her head and lead Mysaria and the others away first. After all, Daemon was now her "number one son," how could she stop her own boy from taking advantage of her?
As the morning mist gradually dissipated, sunlight shone on the pier, leaving only Daemon, Gael, and Grey Ghost by the pier.
The Glutton fell from the sky and landed on an open ground not far away, letting out a dragon's roar at Daemon.
Daemon took Gael's hand and walked to the Glutton, reaching out to touch its scales. "We should go back too."
Gael looked up at him, her eyes full of smiles. "Next, you won't be busy with the Joint Fleet's affairs, will you?"
Daemon nodded. "Yes, and there's also intelligence on the Triarchy. Larys is still waiting for me."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the sails on the dock, his heart filled with determination. "But it's alright. With you here, with them here, it's all worth it, no matter how busy we are."
The Grey Ghost nuzzled Daemon's leg, while the Glutton spread its wings, as if urging them to go home.
Daemon took Gael's hand and turned to walk towards the Red Keep. The morning light shone on them, carrying a warm glow.
The sea breeze still blows at the pier, but it no longer carries the melancholy of parting.
Because they knew that this parting was not the end, but rather a prelude to a better reunion, to the peace they would jointly safeguard, and to a more stable future for the Seven Kingdoms.