The scent of medicine filled the room

The morning light in Dragon's Roost Port, as always, carried the unique dampness of the swamp, like silk soaked in morning mist, gently washing over the carved window frames of Gael's room.

The carved dragon patterns on the window lattice cast soft shadows in the gentle light, turning the warm light inside the room into a soft orange hue, making even the dust particles floating in the air clearly visible.

The room was lit by silver charcoal, the finest kind of charcoal, which burned smokelessly and odorlessly, its tiny orange-red flames dancing in the brass brazier. These flames cast a soft, shimmering light on the silk robes hanging on the wooden rack against the wall—a gift specially sent by Ari Rivers that morning, who said that "being near a fire nourishes one's blood and energy." Ever since Damon and Gareth toured the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, and Ari Rivers joined their party at Harrenhal with Larry, she had instructed Gareth to maintain this practice daily, and it had been almost two years now.

The remaining light of dawn fell directly on the medicine box spread out on the table, which Alys had brought herself that morning.

The box, made of weirwood, has a natural, warm feel. Its surface is polished smooth as a mirror, and the edges are inlaid with delicate silver ornaments. Several mysterious runes are engraved on it, which are said to have the effect of calming the mind and protecting medicine.

The medicine box contained a dozen or so clear glass medicine bottles, each labeled with a parchment label with the name of the medicine and instructions for use written in ink.

The carefully prepared pale green medicine in the bottle shimmered with a lustrous glow. The liquid was clear and free of impurities, and a faint herbal fragrance could be smelled when brought close. It was a conditioning medicine that Alys Rivers had specially brewed until late last night, specifically for Gael's congenitally weak constitution. It contained rare nourishing herbs such as tarragon and moon dew grass, as well as a blood dragon brought from the mysterious Eastern Yi Ti. It had taken a lot of effort to prepare.

Gael sat on a soft chair, on which lay the white fox fur cushion that Brandon Stark had given her and Little Daemon at their engagement ceremony. The soft, thick fox fur beneath her gently supported her entire body.

She wore a light purple robe, the hem of which draped gently over a wool carpet. The carpet was an engagement gift that Benjen Stark and his wife had brought from the the North for Duke Edric to give to Daemon and Gael. It was woven with a pattern of Direwolf and dragons dancing together, and it was soft and silent underfoot.

The Dreamfyre pattern embroidered on her robe shimmered with a silvery sheen in the light. Every pattern on the dragon scales was exquisitely embroidered, specially commissioned to be made in the likeness of Dreamfyre. Every time she saw the dragon pattern, it was as if she could feel Dreamfyre gently nestled beside her.

She unconsciously twisted the hem of her skirt with her fingertips; her nails were neatly trimmed and had a faint pink hue.

The light occasionally drifted towards the door, a barely perceptible hint of anxiety hidden in its eyes. Daemon had originally planned to go to the dock this morning with Colin Celtigar and Alyn Redwyne to check on the progress of the new ship.

However, because Alys Rivers needed to give her a quarterly physical examination, the trip was specially postponed. Daemon was standing by the door at this moment, with the Blackfyre slung across his waist, and his eyes held a barely perceptible tension.

Gael rolled up the sleeves of her light purple dress, revealing her slender wrists that were more rosy than usual.

Mysaria stood beside her, holding the potion that Alys had prepared; the porcelain bottle was engraved with tiny dragon patterns.

Johanna Swann was tidying the bed, her fingertips occasionally brushing against the Dreamfyre pattern embroidered on the pillow, a subtle, complex emotion hidden in her eyes;

Brienne Tarth and Lia Osgre stood guard at the door; the former's hand, gripping the hilt of her sword, remained as tense as ever, while the tips of Leah's ears were slightly flushed from the atmosphere inside.

Since Alys said yesterday that she would give Gael a "personal check-up," these girls haven't dared to go too far away.

"Relax, my little princess." Alys Rivers ' voice was as deep as ever. Her fingertips gently rested on Gael's wrist, the cool touch making Gael tremble slightly.

The hood of her green cloak slipped down, revealing her fair profile, a complex light flashing in her eyes.

Since Harrenhal and Larys joined Daemon, she had watched Gael emerge from the fire, from the original historical trajectory of that timid...

The "Child of Winter," whom even Dragonpit dare not approach—

The transformation from a princess who can now ride the Dreamfyre and oversee the livelihood of the people in Dragon's Roost Port is a result of the ripples brought about by Daemon, the Black Dragon from the future, the changes Gael herself brought to Daemon, and her quiet conditioning over the past year.

While Alys Rivers was making his diagnosis, Mysaria and Johanna had also put down their work and stood on the other side of the room, holding the freshly warmed medicinal wine in their hands.

Today, Mysaria wore a light blue dress, her eyes filled with concern for Gael, but when her gaze swept over Daemon, a hint of loss flashed across her face. She had been intimate with Daemon, but she knew that she was ultimately just a maid, and this intimacy could never compare to that with Gael.

Johanna, dressed in a light gray outfit, gripped the handle of the beer jug tightly. Beneath her congratulatory smile lay emotions similar to Mysaria's, though she was better at concealing her disappointment beneath a composed exterior.

Brienne Tarth and Lia Osgre continued to stand guard at the door. Brienne, dressed in silver armor, remained as serious as ever, her hand on the hilt of her sword, as if ready to deal with any unexpected situation. Only when Gael a soft breath would her brow furrow slightly, revealing a hint of worry.

Lia, dressed in a light green shorts, was the youngest of the group. When she heard Princess Gael, who was protecting her, talking about "physical examinations" and "treatments," her ears turned red. She avoided looking at the center of the room, but couldn't help but prick up her ears, afraid of missing any news about Gael's health.

Bethany Hightower had somehow appeared at the doorway, holding her notebook with the pen hovering over the paper. Her gaze, however, wasn't on Gael, but rather frequently drifted towards Daemon. Her almost burning curiosity made Gael secretly glare at her.

Ever since Bethany came to Dragon's Roost Port, she has been staring at Daemon like this. If it weren't for Alys saying that she was only interested in her own Little Daemon's "mystery", Gael, whose personality is becoming more and more outgoing, would probably have lost her temper long ago.

"Your pulse looks much more stable than last year, and your blood and energy seem to be much better than last year as well. It seems that the legendary aura of the dragon can indeed nourish the dragon rider who is born with a deficiency."

Alys Rivers withdrew her hand, took a small silver spoon from her medicine box, and scooped out a little pale green potion. "Take it on an empty stomach every morning, then stay near the Dreamfyre for an hour. The warmth of the Dragonfire within the dragon's body should also help you absorb the potion."

She paused, her gaze shifting to Daemon, her voice carrying her signature enigmatic smile, "However, regarding your desire for children, you'll have to wait another year."

"Wait another year?" Gael's usually gentle voice suddenly rose, her light purple eyes filled with surprise, then flushed with a blush.

She and Little Daemon have discussed having children privately recently, especially after seeing Viserys and Aemma holding Rhaenyra; she's been looking forward to it for a while now.

Daemon strode over to Gael's side, reached out and took her hand; the warmth from his fingertips calmed Gael down a little.

He looked at Alys Rivers, his eyes filled with confirmation. "Is it because her congenital defect hasn't been fully corrected yet?"

Alys Rivers, her fingertips tracing the runes on the medicine bottle. "After she rode the Dreamfyre, her physique did improve a lot, and her personality became more cheerful, but if she wants to have a safe pregnancy, she still needs to recuperate for another year."

Starting from our journey through the Seven Kingdoms, plus this year and next, a full three years of medicine and Dragonfire nourishment, by the time she turns twenty next year, all her congenital deficiencies will likely be resolved. At that time, if you have children, not only will she be safe as the mother, but the child will also be healthier."

These words struck like a thunderbolt, instantly making the atmosphere in the room tense.

Lia's face turned completely red. She quickly turned around, pretending to tidy up the armor decorations by the door, but her ears perked up even more.

Brienne coughed, her gaze drifting to the window as she tried to hide her embarrassment, but she couldn't help but steal a glance at Gael, her eyes full of concern.

Mysaria stepped forward, offering the mead, her voice gentle. "Your Highness, please don't rush. Taking care of your health is the most important thing. We're all waiting to drink your wedding wine."

The blessings in his words were sincere, yet they concealed a subtle hint of disappointment.

She desperately wanted to leave something for Daemon, but the difference in their social status created a chasm that forced her to bury those thoughts deep within her.

Johanna chimed in, "Yes, Your Highness, we trust Miss Alys's medical skills. Waiting another year will be better for both you and the young prince."

Her smile was composed, but her fingers unconsciously caressed the short sword Daemon had given her at her waist. The jealousy hidden in her eyes was only vaguely noticeable to Mysaria, who was closest to her and felt the same way.

The most excited one was Bethany, who was writing rapidly in her notebook, the sound of her pen gliding across the paper exceptionally clear.

She looked back and forth between Daemon and Gael, her eyes filled with the fervor of "discovering a new continent," as if she were studying some rare Old Valyria ruins.

Feeling uncomfortable under her gaze, Gael glared at her lightly, thinking she was teasing her along with Alys. Bethany then toned it down a bit, but turned her burning gaze to Daemon, as if trying to find a trace of "anticipation for a child" on his face.

"I think—I can do it right now," Gael retorted softly, her voice tinged with a hint of grievance. She gently shook Daemon's arm, like she had whine to her mother, Queen Alysanne, when she was a child. "Look, I can patrol on Dreamfyre now, and I can handle the resettlement of refugees. My body has long since recovered."

"No." Daemon and Alys Rivers refused almost simultaneously, their voices filled with unwavering determination.

Daemon looked down at Gael's aggrieved little eyes, and his heart softened, but he still hardened his heart and explained, "Have you forgotten that Aemma went into premature labor a while ago? And your grandmother, Queen Mother Alyssa, died in childbirth while giving birth to Jocelyn's mother;

Your sister Alyssa (Baelon's wife) died in childbirth less than a year after giving birth to Young Griff;

Your other sister Daenella, also died of puerperal fever after giving birth to Aemma.

Childbirth is already dangerous for us Targaryen women; I can't let you take any risks.

His voice carried a lingering fear; though he hadn't personally experienced these events in his previous life, he had read too many tragic stories of Targaryen women in history books.

Moreover, not only a century ago, but also a century later, his father Aegon IV's legal wife, his half-sister Daeron II, and the mother of Daenerys, whom he had once secretly loved, Queen Naerys, died in the delivery room. These memories were like a thorn, making him absolutely unwilling to gamble with Gael's life.

Alys Rivers added, a rare hint of seriousness flashing in her eyes. "His Highness Daemon is right. Your child's constitution is weaker than average. If you get pregnant now, not only is premature birth more likely, but it could also lead to long-term health problems. Wait another year, and I guarantee you'll be in the best possible condition to welcome your child."

Seeing the determined looks in their eyes, Gael knew there was no point in arguing anymore, so she could only helplessly pout and nod gently, "Alright, I'll listen to you."

But her aggrieved look, like a kitten whose sweet treat had been stolen, made Daemon unable to resist reaching out and ruffling her hair.

Looking at the scene before her, Alys Rivers' signature mysterious smile curled up at the corners of her lips as she deliberately teased, "What's wrong? Is our little Gael Gerald shy? Or is our Little Daemon Damon eager to have an heir?"

"Alys!" Gael called out coquettishly, instantly pulling her head back from Daemon's stroking and hiding behind Mysaria and Johanna, causing everyone in the room to laugh.

Daemon shook his head helplessly, then reached out to touch Gael's head again, gently stroking her hair. "No rush, we have plenty of time in the future."

After Alys Rivers packed up her medicine box and left, Bethany tactfully followed her. As for Gael, she sat on the soft couch in a daze, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the porcelain bottle beside her.

Mysaria and Johanna tactfully withdrew, while Brienne led Lia to inspect the hallway outside the room, leaving only the couple inside.

Daemon gently sat down beside her, his fingertips lightly tracing her flushed cheek. "Still thinking about the baby?"

Gael nodded, then shook her head, her voice tinged with grievance. "I just feel—I'm much better now, and I don't want to wait any longer."

"I know." Daemon pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. "But I'm more afraid something will happen to you. Childbirth is inherently more dangerous for us Targaryen women than for ordinary people, and I don't want you to take any risks. How about we wait another year?"

Gael leaned against him, listening to his steady heartbeat, and finally nodded, her fingers tightly gripping his robe.

The afternoon at Dragon's Roost Port was still busy. Daemon went to the dock to check on the progress of the new ship, while Gael, accompanied by Mysaria and Johanna, went to the terraced fields to check on the growth of salt-tolerant crops.

Alys Rivers returned to her tent and continued brewing the potion;

Bethany followed behind her, continuing to pester her with questions. One moment she was asking about the formula for the potion, and the next she was wondering if the Dragon Mark on Little Daemon's body was related to fertility. However, Alys Rivers with the words, "You're not old enough to know yet."

However, Bethany responded to Alys Rivers beside her with a self-deprecating remark, "I'm an old woman myself."

Brienne and Lia continued to guard the perimeter of Daemon and Gael's temporary residence, ensuring that no outsiders approached.

The salt-tolerant rye in the terraced fields has already sprouted ears, its green waves rippling, and the wind carries the scent of soil and vegetation.

Gael bent down and brushed the tips of the ears of grain, her fingertips touching the plump kernels. A smile appeared in her eyes, but the slight melancholy in her heart about "waiting another year" was like a awn of wheat being blown by the wind, gently scratching at her heart.

Seeing her lost in thought, Mysaria whispered her hopes for a bountiful harvest, while Johanna gazed warily at the distant woods. The three of them cast long shadows in the afternoon sunlight.

Unbeknownst to Gael, Daemon was inspecting the new ship at the dock, instructing Colin on strengthening patrols in the Narrow Sea, his gaze occasionally drifting towards the rice terraces, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the hilt of his sword.

As night quietly crept into the sky, the lights of Dragon's Roost Port lit up one after another, bathing the sails on the dock and the waves of wheat in the terraced fields in a warm yellow hue, laying a gentle foundation for the whispers of the approaching night.