The Glory and Shadows of Tidehead Island

Glutton's shadow swept over the long cape of Tidehead Island, and for the first time, Daemon saw the island in its entirety on the eve of its golden age.

The emerald waters of Blackwater Bay embraced the island. Beneath the sunlight, the sea looked as though countless shards of glass had been scattered across it, while Dragonstone's outline flickered in and out of sight in the distance.

As they drew near the island, the salty sea breeze suddenly carried strange new fragrances—the mingled scents of cinnamon, cardamom, and myrrh drifting from the docks, bringing with them the exotic flavor of the Free Cities.

"That's Hull." Rayford Rosby pointed at the layered wooden buildings below. "It truly lives up to its name."

Daemon followed his gesture and saw ships crowding the coastline, from the humblest fishing boats to three-masted sailing ships, their masts packed together like a forest.

The houses built along the slopes truly had roofs laid with old ship hulls, gleaming dark brown beneath the sun. From afar, the entire town looked as though it had been built from wreckage washed ashore by the waves.

"House Velaryon's shipping business is far more prosperous than we imagined," Mace Harven murmured. His gaze was drawn to a group of merchants in Braavosi clothing by the docks, haggling fluently with local traders in the Common Tongue.

When Glutton landed in the square before High Tide, Rhaenys Targaryen was already waiting there with her two children.

She wore a sea-green silk gown in House Velaryon colors, though the neckline bore the three-headed dragon sigil of the Targaryen Lineage. Time seemed especially kind to this "Queen Who Never Was"; the fine lines at the corners of her eyes only made her violet gaze seem deeper.

Seven-year-old Laena stood at her side, her silver hair cascading down her back, holding the hand of her four-year-old brother Laenor. The little boy hid behind his sister, staring curiously at Glutton with violet eyes.

"Little Daemon, you finally made it." Rhaenys's laughter rang like wind chimes as she stepped forward and embraced Daemon. Yet her gaze passed over him and landed on Gael, and a knowing, mischievous smile curled her lips. "Aunt Gael came too? Looks like my useless brother finally did something worthwhile."

Gael's cheeks immediately flushed red, and she instinctively ducked behind Daemon.

Dreamfyre landed at the edge of the square. As her pale blue wings folded, the wind she stirred tossed Gael's hair into disarray.

Rhaenys then turned her attention to Mysaria beside Gael. The girl wore a newly made gray dress, her platinum curls braided into two plaits, and she looked somewhat restrained. "And this is?"

"Mysaria. You may call her Little My," Daemon hurriedly introduced her, afraid that Rhaenys might say something embarrassing.

Yet to his surprise, Rhaenys merely sighed and gently patted Mysaria's shoulder. "Poor child." She turned to Daemon, reproach in her voice. "Big Daemon truly went too far this time. Don't go running around with him again. Learn more from Viserys—"

"Rhaenys," Daemon quickly cut her off. He had no desire to discuss Viserys's "true nature" in such a setting. "Where is Corlys? I didn't even see him at his wedding last time. Don't tell me he's busy again?"

Rhaenys pursed her lips, sounding helpless. "What else could he be doing? He's in the meeting room discussing business with those Essosi friends of his again." Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she grabbed Daemon's arm. "By the way, do you want to come see Tidehead Island's new city with your sister? The Sea Snake has poured every last coin he owns into it."

Laenor immediately cheered. "I want to go! I want to see the silver tower tops!" Rhaenys smiled and ruffled her son's hair. "All right, we'll take you all."

Only when the group set out from Hull did Daemon truly grasp the wealth of Corlys, the Sea Snake. This town, which had grown from three fishing villages, was now crammed with merchants from all over the world—Braavosi bankers in gray robes, Pentoshi nobles draped in silk shawls. The warehouses by the docks were piled with spices, silk, and wine, while the laborers' chants blended with merchants' haggling like a boisterous symphony.

"His nine voyages made him obscenely rich," Rayford whispered to Daemon. "I heard from my father that he has more wealth than the Lannisters."

Daemon said nothing. His attention had been caught by the shipyard. More than a dozen warships were under construction there, and craftsmen hammered at hull planks with dull, powerful blows.

He knew that these ships might play an important role in future storms, while their owner was now pouring everything he had into the prosperity of this island.

The road from Hull to Spicetown grew ever more prosperous.

What had once been only a small fishing village now had stone markets and taverns. Shops along both sides of the streets displayed colorful fabrics and spices, and the fragrance in the air was almost intoxicating.

A group of Lysene prostitutes stood outside a tavern soliciting customers. When they saw Daemon's party passing, they all threw flirtatious looks his way.

"The new city is up ahead." Rhaenys pointed toward the construction site before them, pride in her voice. Daemon followed her gesture, and his heart suddenly tightened.

It was a city built from pure white marble. Slender towers pierced the clouds, their silver ornaments glittering in the sunlight like jewels the gods had dropped into the mortal world.

A long causeway connected the new city to Tidehead Island. Countless craftsmen were busy upon it, while Blackwater Bay shimmered in the distance. At high tide, the seawater nearly reached the edges of the causeway.

"It doesn't have a name yet." Rhaenys spoke wistfully. "Corlys said that once it's finished, he'll give it to me as a nameday gift and let me name it."

Daemon's throat tightened. Of course he knew this city's future name—High Tide City. The culmination of half a lifetime of labor by Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake. Yet during the Dance of the Dragons, it and Spicetown would be swallowed by the flames of the Greens and the pirates of the Three Cities. The treasures from Essos, the silver tower tops, the white marble—all of it would turn to ash.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Noticing his silence, Rhaenys smiled. "Corlys says he wants it to replace that damp, gloomy old High Tide."

Daemon nodded, forcing out a smile. "It really is beautiful." He watched the busy craftsmen and Laena excitedly pointing at the silver tower tops, and suddenly felt as though he could barely breathe.

The glory of this city was so dazzling, yet it was destined to vanish in the fires of future war, just like the fate of House Velaryon.

"That over there is Spicetown." Rhaenys pointed toward another town near the new city. Its harbor was even busier than Hull's, with several massive merchant ships from Qarth docked there. "It used to be just a tiny village. Now even the Iron Bank of Braavos has opened a branch here."

Gael's attention was caught by a group of slaves unloading cargo. Their skin was black as ink, and they wore nothing but rough cloth around their waists. The overseers' whips occasionally cracked across their bodies. She frowned and lightly tugged Daemon's sleeve. "They're so pitiful."

Daemon did not speak. He knew that in this era, slavery was commonplace in the Free Cities. Even if the Iron Throne expressly forbade it, the traditions across the Narrow Sea could not be changed so easily.

Just then, a man in splendid brocade robes hurried over, an astute smile on his face. "Lady Rhaenys, Lord Corlys invites you and the honored guests to dine at the castle."

"I understand." Rhaenys nodded, then turned to Daemon. "Come on. Let's go see my 'extremely busy' husband."

On the way to High Tide, Daemon's eyes never left High Tide City, still under construction.

The setting sun cast its last light across the marble walls, coating them in a golden halo. It was beautiful as an unreal dream.

He suddenly thought of Whispering Castle on the Crab Claw Peninsula. That ruined wreck stood in stark contrast to the splendor before him, yet neither would escape the fate of destruction by war.

"What are you thinking about?" Rhaenys's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Nothing." Daemon shook his head. "I just think Corlys is remarkable."

Rhaenys smiled. "That man spends his entire life thinking about these things. Sometimes I truly feel that he loves his ships and castles more than he loves me and the children." She paused, her tone turning reflective. "Still, seeing Tidehead Island become so prosperous makes me happy for him."

Watching the light in her eyes, Daemon suddenly understood Corlys's obsession.

Perhaps the Sea Snake had long known that peace in the Seven Kingdoms would not last. He had poured everything into building this city not only for the glory of House Velaryon, but also to create a haven for his family and people before the storm arrived.

Unfortunately, he would ultimately fail to get his wish.

When High Tide's shadow fell over them, Daemon withdrew his gaze.

This dark, somber castle bore salt stains across its walls like trails of tears, silently telling of the years it had endured.

He knew that, in history, this place had once sheltered the young Jaehaerys and Alysanne, and would become a turning point in House Velaryon's fate during the Dance of the Dragons.

"Don't worry." Rhaenys seemed to see through his thoughts. She patted his shoulder, then hugged him and thoroughly "ravaged" his silver hair. "Corlys may be busy, but he'll certainly be happy to see you. After all, you're under my protection."

Daemon smiled and followed her through High Tide's gates.

The castle was damp, and the air was thick with the smell of seawater and wood. It felt like an entirely different world from the prosperity outside.

He could hear distant arguing, presumably Corlys discussing business with his "Essosi friends."

Gael and Mysaria followed behind him, while Laena held Gael's hand and excitedly told her about the secrets of the silver tower tops.

As Daemon watched their backs, he thought once more of High Tide City rising under construction. A fierce impulse suddenly surged within him—he wanted to stop that war. He wanted this beautiful city, and the people he had met on the Crab Claw Peninsula and in Maidenpool, to survive the storms of the future safely.

The thought had barely surfaced before he suppressed it. He knew it was nearly impossible. The tide of history rolled ever onward, and it was not something one man could change.

But at least he could try. He was Daemon Blackfyre! In this life, he wielded the Blackfyre sword and rode the dragon Glutton! He was confident that amid the storm of the Dance of the Dragons, he could unleash a Blackfyre tempest of his own!

Daemon took a deep breath and pushed open the meeting room doors. Corlys Velaryon stood before him. The Sea Snake looked even more spirited than when Daemon had seen him last year, speaking fluent High Valyrian with several merchants dressed in exotic attire.

When Corlys saw Daemon enter, he had clearly found a way to avoid the merchants' "sensitive" topic. He immediately stopped speaking and smiled.

"Daemon, my wife's brother, you finally made it."

Daemon stepped forward and embraced him. The Sea Snake carried the scent of sea wind and spices—the scent of Tidehead Island, and the glory and shadows of an age.

Outside the window, High Tide City's silver tower tops still gleamed in the twilight like a star unwilling to go out.