When the first light of morning touched the stone windows of Castle Driftmark, the sound of suppressed arguing was like a pebble thrown into still water, breaking Daemon's sleep. He opened his eyes. Gael's head still rested in the crook of his arm, breathing evenly. Mysaria was curled up on the daybed at the foot of the bed, her platinum-blonde hair glowing softly in the dawn light.
"Corlys Velaryon! Where exactly did you sleep last night?" Rhaenys's voice, tinged with anger, penetrated through the door panels. "Don't tell me you squatted in the corridor all night! It doesn't matter if you violate the King's laws; I can't control you! But don't drag my brother to 'mess around' across the Narrow Sea with you!"
"My dear, listen to me explain..." The Sea Snake's voice sounded exceptionally aggrieved. "It was Daemon who..."
Daemon sat up abruptly. Gael was startled awake, rubbing her eyes and looking at him blankly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Daemon lowered his voice, quickly pulling on his tunic. "You and Mysa sleep a bit longer. I'll go check."
He gently pushed the door open. The scene in the corridor made him understand instantly—Rhaenys wore a red-and-black nightgown, hands on her hips, while Corlys was wrapped only in a wool cloak, hair messy, facing away from him, trying hard to maintain composure before his wife.
"Sister Rhaenys." Daemon coughed lightly. Rhaenys turned her head. Upon seeing Daemon, the anger on her face faded like a sand painting washed away by the tide, instantly replaced by a knowing, teasing smile.
"Little Daemon is awake?" She looked him up and down, her "motherly smile" almost overflowing. "Seems you slept well last night?"
Corlys took the chance to turn around, his eyes lighting up when he saw Daemon. Just as he was about to speak, he was stopped by a sharp glare from Rhaenys.
"I..." Daemon tried to explain. "I was in Gael's room last night..."
"I understand, I understand." Rhaenys interrupted him with a beaming smile, patting his arm. "Young people have fire; it's normal. Go wash up quickly; breakfast is almost ready."
She glanced at Corlys, her tone turning cold again. "You, come with me!" Corlys followed Rhaenys like a goose grabbed by the neck, wearing a bitter expression. Passing Daemon, he secretly shot him a "good luck" look.
Daemon shook his head helplessly, thinking he could never look straight at this historically renowned "Lord of the Tides" again. When he turned back to the room, Gael was sitting up, and Mysaria was helping her comb her silver hair.
"Did Rhaenys misunderstand?" Gael's cheeks were red, her voice faint as a mosquito.
"Ignore her." Daemon walked over and ruffled her hair. "She's just like that, likes to joke."
But he didn't expect Rhaenys's "joke" to last through the entire breakfast.
At the long table, Rhaenys personally served Daemon. His silver fork was piled high with roast boar ribs, smoked cod, and honeyed ham, almost overflowing. "Eat more, Little Daemon." She smiled like a blooming sunflower. "Young men consume a lot while growing."
Gael buried her head lower, even her ears turning red, the bread in her hand squeezed out of shape.
Mysaria stood behind her, trying hard to hold back laughter, her shoulders shaking slightly.
Corlys kept his head down drinking soup the entire time, as if some peerless treasure were hidden in the bowl, turning a blind eye to his wife's "feeding" behavior.
Laena and Laenor ate happily, occasionally looking curiously at the blushing Gael and Daemon buried under food.
"Mother," Laena swallowed the cake in her mouth, looking up. "Brother and I want Uncle Daemon and Gael to take us dragon riding."
Laenor nodded immediately, echoing indistinctly: "Dragon riding! Dragon riding!"
Rhaenys set down her knife, patted her daughter's head, her tone gentle but unquestionably firm: "No can do. Uncle Daemon and Aunt Gael are busy; you can't disturb them." She winked at Daemon, the meaning all too clear—creating alone time for you two.
"Sister Rhaenys, actually we..." Daemon still wanted to explain, subconsciously looking at Corlys, hoping he would help.
But Corlys seemed to suddenly remember something. Looking at Laena, he abruptly put down his soup bowl and wiped his mouth. "Oh my, I slept early last night and heard nothing at all. almost forgot there are guests waiting in the solar." He stood up, gave Rhaenys a perfunctory hug, "Enjoy your meal, I'll excuse myself first." With that, he practically fled the dining room.
Daemon: "..."
Finally, under the pestering of the two children, Rhaenys relented.
Gael looked at Laena's expectant eyes, remembering how the girl shyly covered her face looking at Daemon yesterday, and couldn't help but worry: "I'll take Laena."
Daemon naturally became Laenor's "exclusive knight."
When he carried the four-year-old boy onto The Cannibal's back, he clearly felt the little guy stiffen, then burst into excited screams.
"Uncle Daemon! You're amazing!" Laenor's small hand gripped his tunic tightly, eyes staring brightly at The Cannibal's head. "More amazing than Papa's ships!"
Daemon smiled and patted The Cannibal's neck. The black dragon gave a low response and took to the air.
He looked down. Dreamfyre was circling below with Gael and Laena, pale blue dragon wings looking like flowing gems in the sunlight.
"Laenor, are you scared?" Daemon asked. "Not scared!" Laenor's voice was crisp. "I want to ride a dragon like Uncle in the future!" He paused, then suddenly leaned close to Daemon's ear, whispering, "Uncle, you look much better than those boys in the picture books."
Daemon's heart sank suddenly. Looking at the serious gaze of the boy in his arms, a thought flashed through his mind—historically, Laenor Velaryon, the first husband of his great-grandmother Rhaenyra, seemed to have... no interest in women.
No way... he's only four... Daemon clicked his tongue inwardly, subconsciously pushing Laenor slightly away to maintain a "safe distance." Better stay away from this kid in the future.
Three days later, the Sea Snake Corlys's fleet set sail as scheduled. The fleet of twenty three-masted galleons looked like a long silver dragon moving slowly on the azure waves of Blackwater Bay.
Daemon's retinue was arranged on the flagship, the Sea Snake. The Cannibal and Dreamfyre circled above the fleet like two loyal guardian gods.
When the fleet passed Dragonstone, Daemon stood on the deck specifically to gaze at it.
This black island was like a dormant giant beast guarding the entrance to Blackwater Bay. The towers of the castle gleamed with a grim luster in the sunlight.
He knew this place was not only the first stop for House Targaryen's landing in Westeros but also the starting point for many future stories.
"The dragonglass mines of Dragonstone are treasures." Corlys walked to his side at some point, holding a Myrish lens. "When Aegon the Conqueror conquered the Seven Kingdoms, due to the lack of iron ore on Dragonstone, many weapons were made from the obsidian here."
Daemon nodded, turning his gaze to the distant sea.
The waters of Blackwater Bay were indeed as calm as rumored. The Massey's Hook acted like a giant arm blocking the waves of the Narrow Sea, making the water inside the bay as docile as blue silk.
Patrol ships of the Royal Fleet cruised in the distance, the three-headed dragon sigil clearly visible on their sails.
"That land on the left is Crackclaw Point." Corlys pointed north. "Claw Isle, where we are going this time, is near the tip of the peninsula."
Daemon looked in the direction he pointed. The coastline was winding, and the outline of cliffs was faintly visible.
He thought of House Crabb and House Brune, wondering how Lord Crabb's restoration of the Whispers was going.
"I heard there's an area in Blackwater Bay called the Spear of the Merling King?" Gael's voice came from behind. She and Mysaria were leaning on the railing looking out, sea breeze lifting their hair like floating silver threads.
"Yes," Corlys laughed. "The currents there are turbulent; ship captains all steer around it. But the cod inside are fat and delicious, just that the water is too salty to drink even filtered."
Daemon had tasted the water of Blackwater Bay; it was indeed salty enough to be bitter, harder to swallow than the water of the Narrow Sea. In the marshes along the coast, flocks of waterfowl took flight like flowing white clouds, forming a wondrous echo with the schools of cod on the water surface.
"Driftmark is the largest island in Blackwater Bay, right?" Mysaria asked curiously. It was her first time seeing such a large fleet, and her eyes were full of excitement.
"Correct." Corlys's tone held pride. "Our House Velaryon settled on Driftmark before following Aenar Targaryen to move to Dragonstone. Since making a pact with the Merling King, we have guarded this bay for centuries. In my nine voyages, I departed from Hull every time." He looked at the distant sea, a trace of nostalgia in his eyes. "Back then, the entire Narrow Sea knew the name of the 'Sea Snake' Corlys."
Daemon looked at his spirited appearance and suddenly understood why Rhaenys chose him. Though this man was twenty-one years older than her, he possessed ambition and wisdom no less than anyone, like the tides of Blackwater Bay—powerful and encompassing.
The fleet continued forward, and the shadow of Dragonstone gradually disappeared on the horizon.
The water of Blackwater Bay presented varying shades of blue under the sunlight, from near to far, like a gradient oil painting.
Daemon leaned on the railing, watching The Cannibal and Dreamfyre soar high above, listening to Gael and Mysaria whispering and laughing nearby. His heart suddenly became exceptionally calm.
He knew the journey to Claw Isle still awaited them ahead, and the tour of the Seven Kingdoms was far from over.
But at this moment, bathed in the sunlight of Blackwater Bay, listening to the waves slapping the hull, he suddenly felt that times like this weren't bad.
"What are you thinking?" Gael walked to his side, handing him a lemon cake.
"Thinking," Daemon took the cake and took a bite, "lucky to have you here."
Gael's cheeks reddened slightly, and she leaned gently on his shoulder.
In the distance over the sea, a flock of gulls flew past, leaving a string of crisp calls, as if accompanying this voyage.
The journey touring the Seven Kingdoms had only just begun.
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