When the blue and white sails of the Redwyne fleet unfurled in the morning light of the Sea of Dorne, the grape sigils on the canvas snapped crisply in the sea breeze. After wiping out the Lysene slaver ships in the Stepstones, the fleet had sailed north along the coast of the Stormlands. The salty wind gradually lost the dry heat of Dorne, replacing it with the sharp bite characteristic of Cape Wrath.
The first stop was the Isle of Estermont. This small island, nestled south of Shipbreaker Bay, had a pale green coastline. The silhouette of Greenstone was sharp in the sunlight. Above the castle gate, the dark green turtle on pale green of House Estermont hung like a piece of jade soaked in seawater.
As soon as Daemon landed the Cannibal on the pier, Lord Estermont approached with his eldest son. The old lord wore a gray robe embroidered all over with turtles, clutching a parchment scroll. His face was darker than sea fog. "Prince, I've bound and brought the men you wanted."
Following his finger, Daemon saw five men in leather armor tied to the wooden pilings of the pier, all hanging their heads dejectedly. Two of them even wore the sigils of Estermont bannermen on their chests.
"These men have a lot of nerve, daring to trade slaves with the Lyseni behind my back," Lord Estermont's eldest son stepped forward, pointing his riding crop at the oldest man among them. "Especially him—a minor lord of House Hopton. Last year he lied to me, saying his fleet hit a storm, when in reality he was delivering 'cargo' across the Narrow Sea."
Daemon had Rayford Rosby verify the list. once confirmed, he ordered the men to be detained on a supply ship, to be taken later to Storm's End for judgment by Lord Boremund Baratheon.
Lord Estermont watched them being taken away and let out a long sigh of relief before ordering supplies to be loaded onto the ships.
The fleet continued west, arriving near Mistwood the next morning.
This castle, situated in the southern rainforests of Cape Wrath, was surrounded by dense woods. A banner with a white owl on gray flew from the gatehouse. The guards on the walls sounded their horns immediately upon seeing the Cannibal's shadow.
Lord Mertyns stood personally beneath the city gate. His black robe was speckled with fresh sawdust, and he held a bloodstained dagger. "Prince, I have already dealt with those suspected of human trafficking."
He pointed to the plaza inside the castle, where several bodies hung from gallows. One wore robes embroidered with the sigil of a Mertyns cadet branch. "That was my own uncle. Not only did he participate, but he also instigated other lords. I showed no mercy."
Daemon walked into the plaza, the scent of blood still hanging in the air. Lord Mertyns' youngest son hid behind his mother, clutching a wooden owl carving, his eyes full of fear.
Gael looked at the child and spoke softly to Lord Mertyns. "Punishing the wicked is good, but don't let the child see this. It might leave a shadow on his heart."
Lord Mertyns paused, then immediately had a handmaiden take his son away. He ordered fresh fruit and water for the fleet, his tone full of gratitude. "The Prince and Princess have kind hearts. I will remember this."
Not every lord along the way was so cooperative. When they reached the lands of a nameless minor lord, the man not only refused to hand over the culprits but gathered his household guard to resist. Arrows even grazed the Cannibal's scales.
Daemon didn't unleash dragonfire. Instead, he had Lyonel Strong lead Jarmon Waters, Harlan Hunter, and others to land. They subdued the household guard in short order, bound the lord and his core conspirators to wooden planks, and sent them via messenger to Storm's End. "Lord Boremund will teach him the price of defying the Iron Throne and the true dragon."
Larys Strong followed on his gray donkey, watching the lord being dragged away with a cold sneer. "Overestimating himself. Thinking he can be lawless just because he hides in the rainforest."
Several days later, the fleet finally arrived at Stonehelm. This seat of House Swann sat on Cape Wrath on the northern shore of the Sea of Dorne. Watchtowers of black and white stone pierced the sky, guarding the mouth of the Slayne River. The black and white swan sigil fluttered atop the keep, exuding the unique majesty of Marcher lords.
As Daemon landed the Cannibal on the pier, he was holding back a surge of anger. Johanna's uncle, Lord Swann of Stonehelm, had been heartless enough to effectively "sell" his niece to slavers. He intended to confront him face-to-face. But the moment he landed, he was surrounded by a crowd in swan-embroidered finery. In the distance, several headless bodies hung from the castle walls—likely the owners of the heads of the traffickers this lord had sent ahead a few days prior.
"Prince Daemon! Princess Gael! You've had a long journey!" Lord Swann, leading the group, wore a black and white brocade robe with a silver-threaded swan on his chest. He held a silver wine cup. "I have prepared a banquet. Fresh fish from the Slayne, wild venison from Cape Wrath—you must try it!"
His family crowded forward too. Some offered fruit, others textiles. Johanna's cousin even took her hand, smiling as she said, "It's so good to have you back, sister. Mother and I saved a new velvet dress just for you." The welcome was so warm that Johanna forgot why she had come, freezing in place.
Daemon wanted to speak up, but Lord Swann practically ushered him into the castle.
The courtyard of Stonehelm was set for a feast. Roast venison steamed on long tables, ale barrels were tapped, and amber liquid flowed into silver cups. A bard played a lute in the corner, his song mixing with laughter. It was as lively as a festival.
Lord Swann toasted Daemon repeatedly, recounting the history of Stonehelm—from the Battle of the Slayne during the Andal invasion to Orys Baratheon crushing the Dornish here during the Second Dornish War. Even when mentioning the traffickers' heads he had sent, he never once brought up Johanna's abduction.
Johanna sat at the table, watching the liveliness and her uncle's smiling face. Several times she tried to speak, but her cousin stuffed fruit into her mouth to cut her off. Even Mysaria's encouraging glances made her hesitate—the atmosphere made it impossible to start an accusation.
The banquet lasted late into the night. Daemon lay in bed, listening to the Slayne River outside, feeling that something was hidden beneath this warmth, though he couldn't put his finger on it.
Gael and Mysaria skillfully "snuck" into Daemon's room as usual, but today even the innocent Gael was frowning. "Lord Swann is too enthusiastic. Enthusiastic in an abnormal way. He spun Johanna in circles." Mysaria nodded. "I asked Johanna's cousin, and she only said 'Father loves sister very much' and wouldn't say anything else."
By the next morning, the fleet was ready to officially depart and return to the route toward Storm's End.
However, just as Daemon mounted the Cannibal, he heard rapid hoofbeats behind him.
Johanna, riding a white horse with disheveled hair and tear-stained cheeks, broke through the guards and galloped toward the pier.
"Prince! Please wait for me!" She practically fell off her horse and stumbled into Daemon's arms, weeping loudly, her shoulders shaking violently. This strong young woman was crying for the first time since Daemon and the others had saved her.
Mysaria, who had grown close to her over the past few days, hurried forward to offer a handkerchief, but Johanna dodged it.
Gael also climbed down from Dreamfyre and approached, asking softly, "What happened? Did your uncle bully you?"
Johanna just shook her head. She cried for a long time before choking out the truth. "I... I got it out of my cousin last night... At first, the family thought I died at sea. Later, the Lyseni sent a letter written by my own hand, but Uncle... he never planned to ransom me. He even told my cousin and the others that I was missing, and that it... it saved him a dowry..."
Holding the trembling girl, the dragon brand on Daemon's right shoulder grew warm, and a wave of anger rose in his heart. So all that warmth and hospitality was just a facade to cover cold indifference.
He patted Johanna's back, looking down at the future "Black Swan" in his arms, his voice gentle and steady. "Stop crying. Come with us. No one will dare bully you again."
Gael sighed and took Mysaria's hand. "Mysaria, take Johanna to the carriage to rest. Give her a change of my clothes. From today on, she is my handmaiden too. She comes with us."
Johanna looked up, gazing at Daemon and Gael through tear-filled eyes. Her lips moved, trying to say thank you, but she choked up and couldn't speak.
So Gael took her hand and gently wiped away her tears. "Don't be afraid. From now on, you are one of mine."
The Cannibal let out a low rumble, as if in comfort. Daemon turned the dragon's head toward Stonehelm. The black and white watchtowers still stood tall, but the swan sigil that once symbolized majesty now looked cold and hypocritical in his eyes.
The fleet slowly left the pier. Lord Swann and his family were still waving at the gate, their smiles as warm as ever, unaware of the chill hidden behind those smiles.
The wind from Cape Wrath lifted Johanna's skirt. Sitting in the carriage, watching Stonehelm shrink in the distance, tears fell again—not from despair, but from the relief of a burden lifted.
Daemon rode the Cannibal above the fleet, looking toward Storm's End. He knew there was more to do—formally judging the lords who trafficked humans, comforting victims like Johanna, and facing the upcoming situation in King's Landing. None of it could be neglected.
Sunlight spilled onto the Sea of Dorne, shimmering on the waves. The blue and white sails of the fleet stretched across the water like a road to justice and hope. And with the addition of Johanna, the "Black Swan," this group had gained another warmth worth protecting.