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Early the next morning, the mist over King's Landing had not yet fully dispersed, but the docks of Blackwater Bay were already teeming with life. Unlike the clamor of the Grand Tourney, today's bustle carried a note of wistful departure.
The masts, yesterday adorned with the colorful banners of the Seven Kingdoms, now hoisted their sails. The snap of canvas in the sea breeze, the shouts of sailors, the crying of children, and the farewells of nobles wove the unique melody of King's Landing on this day of parting.
Dew still clung to the cobblestone streets. Daemon stood on the pier holding Gael's hand. Grey Ghost huddled at his feet, his pale grey scales shimmering faintly in the mist.
Not far away, The Cannibal circled high above. His black wings occasionally eclipsed the sun, and his low, resonant roar provided a somber accompaniment to the departures.
Mysaria and Johanna followed behind, while Brienne and Lia stood with Boremund Tarth at the end of the pier, hands on sword hilts, eyes scanning the crowd. Even in farewell, their vigilance never wavered.
The first to depart was the fleet that had arrived last: House Velaryon of Driftmark.
The flagship, The Sea Snake, was moored in the most prominent berth. The silver seahorse of House Velaryon, embroidered on its sails, drifted in and out of the morning fog.
Meleys hovered over the stern deck, her pale red scales dyed gold by the morning light. She occasionally lowered her head to nuzzle Laena's palm, drawing clear laughter from the girl.
Rhaenys walked up to Daemon and Gael, holding Laenor. A gentle smile graced her lips. "It is time for us to go, Brother."
She touched Daemon's cheek, then turned her gaze to Gael, her eyes filled with trust. "Gael, take care of yourself. And keep an eye on him—don't let him run wild with Big Daemon."
Gael blushed but nodded firmly. "Rest assured, Sister. I will." Since the engagement, she had adopted Daemon's way of addressing Prince Aemon's family.
She pulled a small cloth bag from her sleeve and handed it to Laena. "Honey cakes for the journey."
Laena took the bag and hugged Gael's waist. "Aunt Gael, I'll miss you!"
Laenor broke free from Rhaenys and ran to Daemon, tugging his cloak. "Uncle Daemon, when will you come to Driftmark? I want to play with Grey Ghost more."
Daemon crouched down and ruffled the boy's hair, decisively selling out his namesake cousin. "After the United Fleet finishes training, I'll bring Big Daemon with me. I'll make him take you for a ride on Caraxes, how about that?"
Laenor's eyes lit up at the mention of dragon riding. He nodded vigorously. "Deal!"
Corlys approached, clapping Daemon on the shoulder. His tone was serious. "Regarding the United Fleet, I have spoken with Baelon. Driftmark will send ten warships. They will muster in Blackwater Bay next month."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Gael and Laena. "Take care of your future wife. Do not disappoint us."
Daemon nodded. "Rest assured. I will."
The horn blew. Corlys turned and walked up the gangplank, followed by Rhaenys with Laenor and Laena.
Meleys let out a cry, spread her wings, and flew to perch on the mast of The Sea Snake.
Daemon and Gael waved as the flagship slowly pulled away, its sails disappearing into the mist.
"See you soon, Rhaenys!" Gael shouted, her voice thick with emotion.
Daemon squeezed her hand gently. "We will meet again."
Shortly after the Velaryons departed, the Northern fleet was ready.
The longships of House Manderly were lined up, prows carved into white whales. Lord Ellard Stark sat in his wheelchair on the lead ship, his grey cloak billowing in the wind.
Brandon Stark and William Dustin stood guard on either side of the Lord. The Umber brothers, Harmond and Jon, stood at the stern, shouldering their tourney spoils and waving at Daemon.
"Little Daemon!" Brandon's booming voice cut through the fog. "Next time you come North, we are having a proper duel! Loser buys the ale!"
Daemon waved back, adopting the playful tone he used with Brandon and Borros. "Deal! But don't cry when you lose!"
Lord Ellard had William push him to the railing. He raised a hand in salute to Daemon. "Thank you for looking after Brandon and the others during the tourney, Your Highness. The North will honor its promise. Five longships will join the United Fleet, led by Lord Manderly next month."
Daemon nodded. "You are too kind, My Lord. The North's coastline is long; if the Ironborn trouble you, send word immediately."
Approval flashed in Ellard's eyes. He signaled William to wheel him away.
The horn sounded again, and the Northern longships drifted from the pier.
Brandon leaned over the rail, shouting, "Don't forget our promise!"
Daemon waved until the sails vanished into the grey.
Grey Ghost suddenly lifted his head and let out a chirp toward the North, as if answering Brandon on Daemon's behalf.
The last to leave was the Stormlands fleet. The sails of Lord Boremund Baratheon's flagship, Storm's Breath, bore the Crowned Stag.
Borros Baratheon stood on deck, wrestling with Lorent Grandison.
Lorent yawned, clearly still half-asleep, and stumbled under Borros's shove, drawing laughter from the Stormlands youth.
Seeing Daemon, Borros leaped onto the gangplank and threw an arm around his shoulders. "Little Daemon! A shame we didn't get to fight this time! Next time you come to Storm's End, bring your crew. We settle this once and for all!"
Daemon laughed. "Fine! I'll have new moves ready by then."
Lord Boremund approached, bowing formally to Daemon and Gael. "Your Highnesses. Please inform the King and the Prince of Dragonstone that the Stormlands will send eight warships to the United Fleet. Borros will lead them. The boy is rash; I ask Your Highness to guide him."
Borros immediately protested, "Father! I am not rash!" The crowd laughed.
Jocelyn handed Borros a box of honey cakes. "Eat on the way. And stop fighting people."
Borros scratched his head. "Yes, Aunt Jocelyn."
He ran back to the deck, shouting, "Little Daemon! See you soon! We'll smash those Dornish bugs and the Three Whores' pirates together!"
As the farewells concluded, Boremund shared a few private words with his "nephew" Daemon and sister Jocelyn before boarding.
The Stormlands fleet pulled away. Borros stood at the stern, waving until Storm's Breath was a speck on the horizon.
Gael leaned on Daemon's shoulder. "They're all gone."
Daemon kissed her forehead. "It's alright. We'll see them again."
Seeing the couple display affection so openly, Jocelyn shook her head with a smile and led Mysaria and the others away. Daemon was her "son" now; she wouldn't stand in the way of his happiness.
The mist lifted, and sunlight bathed the pier. Only Daemon, Gael, and Grey Ghost remained.
The Cannibal descended from the sky, landing in a nearby clearing with a low rumble.
Daemon took Gael's hand and walked to the black dragon, stroking its scales. "We should go back too."
Gael looked up at him, eyes smiling. "You're going to be busy with the United Fleet now, aren't you?"
Daemon nodded. "Yes. And the intelligence on the Triarchy. Larys is waiting for me."
He paused, looking at the empty sea. "But it doesn't matter. With you here, and with them... the work is worth it."
Grey Ghost nuzzled Daemon's leg. The Cannibal spread his wings, urging them home.
Daemon led Gael toward the Red Keep. The morning light was warm on their backs.
The sea breeze still blew, but it no longer carried the sadness of parting.
They knew this farewell was not an end, but a promise of a better reunion—for the peace they guarded together, and for a more secure future for the Seven Kingdoms.