Fishing lights of White Harbor
The winds from the the North, carrying the salty, damp air of the sea, finally dispelled the biting chill from the direction of the the Wall.
As the Glutton's dragon shadow first swept across the mouth of the White Knife River, Daemon looked down— White Harbor resembled a piece of white jade embedded in the coastline, with whitewashed stone houses stretching along the riverbank, their dark gray stone roofs gleaming coldly in the sunlight. The warships in the inner harbor, like schools of silver fish, lay quietly inside the breakwater, and the seawater, which even the coldest winter could not freeze, shimmered with sparkling light.
"We've reached White Harbor!" Brandon Stark rode ahead, his black leather armor still glistening with the morning dew of the journey. He pointed to the towering grey-green rocks in the distance. "That's Seal Rock, guarding the outer harbor's shipping lanes. Its ballistae can pierce through pirate longships!"
When the procession arrived at the Seal Gate, Earl Theomore Manderly was already waiting there with his family.
The old Earl wore a dark blue brocade robe with a white mermaid emblem embroidered on the collar—the symbol of the House Manderly. The mermaid held a black trident, which was particularly eye-catching in the sunlight.
His attendants carried silver platters filled with fresh oysters, and the air was thick with the smell of fish and sea salt, a stark contrast to the tundra smell of the the North.
"Daemon Highness Damon, Princess Gael. How have you been since our King's Landing Pass last year?" Theomore bowed, his voice carrying a gentle southern accent. "It's been a long time. Welcome to White Harbor. I've prepared a feast at New Castle, with freshly caught cod, grilled seal steaks, and tableware made by our most famous silversmith. You must try it."
Daemon dismounted and glanced at Fishmonger's Square Seal Gate —a cobblestone plaza in the center, where a fountain was spouting warm water. The hot spring water from White Harbor had somehow been channeled into the plaza. Several children were chasing each other around the fountain, and the shouts of vendors could be heard from the distant fish market, which was full of life.
"Earl Manderly has gone to great lengths." He nodded with a smile, "White Harbor is more lively than I imagined."
"After all, our White Harbor is the gateway to the the North," Theomore said proudly, leading the group inside. "Even in winter, the inner harbor doesn't freeze, allowing us to trade with the South. Look at those stone houses; the roof slabs were all transported from the South. And the the Snowy Sept is the largest of the Sept of the Seven in the the North. Our Manderly family are among the few Andals descendants in the the North."
As he ascended the Castle Stair, Daemon finally understood why they were so famous—dozens of marble mermaid statues stood on either side of the wide white stone steps, each holding a bowl of whale oil with flames dancing within, casting a warm yellow glow on the stairs.
Looking down from the top, the inner and outer harbors are fully visible: fishing boats in the outer harbor are gradually docking, and fishermen are carrying fishing nets and calling out their wares;
More than twenty warships were lined up neatly in the inner harbor, their black sails embroidered with the mermaid emblem of the Manderly family;
The Old Castle Wolf's Den sits on the waterfront in the distance, its gray stone walls exuding an ancient aura. It is said that the Godswood of the First Men is hidden inside, but now it has become a prison.
The Merman's Court in New Castle was more elegant than I had imagined. The walls, floors, and ceilings of the hall were all made of thick wooden planks, carved with various marine creatures—leaping cod, wagging whales, and mermaids holding halberds. The candlelight shone on the wood carvings, as if bringing these creatures to life.
Theomore invited everyone to sit down, and servants brought out silver cutlery filled with golden-brown roasted cod, sprinkled with spices from across the Narrow Sea.
"Your Highnesses, please try this." Theomore handed Daemon a silver fork. "The cod from White Harbor is ten times fresher than the fish from the South. We also have silver mines, and these tableware pieces were all made by our own silversmiths. If Your Highness likes them, I'll give you a set."
Beren Dustin, holding his notebook, quickly jotted down notes. "Earl Excellency, was White Harbor built by the House Manderly? I read in a book that it used to be Wolf's Den's Lair territory."
"That's right." Theomore nodded with a smile. "A thousand years before the War of Conquest, we were driven out of the Reach, and the House Stark took us in, granting us this land at the White Knife River. We dismantled part of the Wolf's Den's Lair and built what is now White Harbor —you see, the Wolf's Den is still there, but it's now a prison."
He paused, his voice filled with gratitude, "Therefore, House Manderly will always be loyal to the Stark. When Lord Ellard said he would support the the Wall, we were the first to respond. Our food and iron supplies are ready, just waiting for the Night's Watch to deliver them."
Upon hearing this, Daemon couldn't help but recall Brandon's words when they parted—in Winterfell, Duke Ellard held Brandon's hand, his blue-grey eyes filled with determination. "Your Highness Daemon did the right thing. If the Free Folk can live in peace and the Gift, the the Wall will be much more secure."
Please make sure to tell His Highness that the Warden of the North's duty is to stand with his Night's Watch brothers and defend the the North. Winterfell will provide food, manpower, and weapons." Hearing Theomore mention this now, he felt that the the North's cohesion was even stronger than he had imagined.
Halfway through the banquet, Brandon suddenly slammed his hand on the table and shouted, "I won't be seeing you off to the Three Sisters tomorrow! After I get you on board, I have to go back to Winterfell— Benjen said the House Bolton have been hanging around the border again, and I need to go back and help with the patrols."
Gael held Mysaria's hand, a hint of reluctance flashing in her eyes. "Can't we stay a few more days? We haven't even seen the the Snowy Sept in White Harbor yet."
"No way!" Brandon gulped down a mouthful of ale, the liquid trickling down his chin and into his beard. "This Wild Wolf of mine can't stay in the city! Next time you come to the the North, I'll take you bear hunting in the Wolfswood!"
As he spoke, he unfastened a dagger from his waist and handed it to Daemon —the hilt was made of Direwolf bone, and the blade gleamed coldly. "This is for you! It makes a perfect pair with the one from last time. We didn't manage to settle things at the last tournament, so let's have another match next time we meet!"
Daemon took the dagger; the wolf bone handle felt familiar and warm to the touch. "Alright, I'll come with you bear hunting again next time."
Theomore, observing the interaction between the two, chuckled and added, "Sir Brandon isn't just famous in the the North; he's a celebrity in White Harbor too. Last time he came, he helped us drive away the pirates who were stealing our fish, and the fishermen all call him ' Protector of White Harbor.'"
Brandon blushed immediately and said, "That's what I should do," which made everyone burst into laughter.
Larys Strong sat in the corner, his black robe sweeping across the wooden floor, his dark eyes gleaming with a thoughtful light—he gazed at the wood carvings on the Merman's Court, then at the silver chain around Theomore's waist, clearly calculating the wealth and influence of the House Manderly, but as his thoughts wandered, he thought of his great-uncle whom he had met when he left the the Wall.
Jarman Waters, as usual, leaned against the window, his one eye scanning the warships in the harbor, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the bow and arrows, clearly assessing the defensive strength of White Harbor. Ever since that time he followed Larys in destroying the house and erasing all traces, certain behaviors of the Clubfoot had obviously been passed on to this one-eyed man.
As night deepened, the banquet ended. Daemon stood on the terrace of New Castle, gazing at the fishing lights of White Harbor.
On the warships in the inner harbor, lanterns twinkled like stars; in the direction of the fish market, scattered lights still shone, as late-returning fishermen gathered their nets.
Beside the ballista on Seal Rock, soldiers on night watch held torches, their figures standing tall and straight in the wind.
"What's on your mind again?" Gael saw Daemon staring blankly at the dark night sky from afar, not even noticing his cloak being blown by the wind. She skillfully tiptoed to his side and teased with a smile, "What's wrong? Are you reluctant to part with Brandon?"
"A little." Daemon nodded, his purple eyes reflecting the fishing lights. "He's a good brother." He paused, then added, "But he's also thinking about the the Wall. With the support of Duke Ellard and the Manderly family, the Free Folk should be able to settle down in the the Gift."
"I definitely will." Gael leaned against him, her light purple eyes full of trust. "With you here, with the Glutton and Dreamfyre, there's nothing to fear."
A few night birdsongs drifted from the distant Wolf's Den, mingling with the sound of waves crashing on the shore, creating a particularly gentle ambiance in the night of White Harbor.
Daemon knew that after seeing Brandon off the next day, they would take a ship to the Three Sisters and embark on another journey through the Seven Kingdoms.
But at this moment, the fishing lights of White Harbor, the warmth of the Manderly family, and Brandon's cheerfulness are like warm wine from the the North, spreading warmth in my heart.
The next morning, the docks at White Harbor were unusually lively. Theomore had already prepared a ship for the Three Sisters; the ship was long and slender, and the sails were embroidered with the Manderly family's mermaid emblem.
Brandon stood on the pier, his black robes fluttering in the sea breeze. He patted Daemon on the shoulder, his voice deeper than usual. "Be careful on the road. The people of the Three Sisters are temperamental; don't get into a fight with them."
"Understood." Daemon nodded with a smile. "You should also be careful of the House Bolton."
As the ship set sail, Brandon was still standing on the dock waving, his figure gradually shrinking until he became a black dot.
Daemon watched as the outline of White Harbor disappeared into the horizon, then looked at Gael and Mysaria beside him— Beren was still recording what he had seen and heard at White Harbor, Larys was leaning against the ship's railing gazing into the distance, and Jarman Waters was checking his bow and arrows.
The sea breeze ruffled Daemon's silver hair. He gripped the wolf bone dagger Brandon had given him, and a sudden resolve welled up within him—this journey to the the North had not only shown him the grandeur of the the Wall and the loyalty of the Night's Watch, but also brought him the friendship of the people of the the North.
Whether it's the future Dance of the Dragons or the threat of the White Walkers, with these people and dragons around, he will surely be able to protect Westeros and these warm, comforting homes.
The ship sailed on the ice-free waters of the harbor, heading towards the Three Sisters, with the fishing lights of White Harbor behind it and an unknown journey ahead.
But Daemon knew that as long as the people around him were still there, as long as the Dragonfire were still there, there was no sea that could not be crossed, no land that could not be defended.