Dragonstone

Viserys paced back and forth in his bedchamber.

He did not understand!

"You, Baelon."

"Baelon Targaryen, heir to the Seven Kingdoms."

"Why are you so determined to risk your life taming a full-grown dragon?"

Viserys looked at his son, who stood only waist-high to him.

Viserys would rather Baelon squandered gold and freely led the finest horses from his abundant stables, just to give them to lowly hedge knights.

He would rather Baelon kept falcons and hunting hounds for amusement, regardless of the cost.

Or spent money and manpower on a passing interest in collecting, just to find coins from the Seven Kingdoms dating to the year before the Conquest, which might not even exist.

But he would never allow Baelon to face the slightest danger, whether as a father or as a king.

Viserys said without hesitation, "No!"

"Absolutely not!"

Why did his family all care so little for their own lives?!

His daughter, Rhaenyra Targaryen, had fallen in love with a White Knight and dared risk her life to kill when someone held a sword to her throat!

His brother, Daemon Targaryen, had made provoking him his lifelong occupation, and loved fighting and killing even more!

Was everyone in this generation of Targaryens out of their minds except him?!

Baelon was utterly baffled. "Danger?!"

Why didn't you call it dangerous when you tamed Balerion the Black Dread yourself?!

Besides, was taming dragons dangerous for Targaryens?!

"Leaving aside the days of Old Valyria."

He was glad he had studied history well enough to make a reasoned rebuttal now.

He listed the successive lords of Dragonstone and kings. "From Aenar to Gaemon the Glorious, then Aegon, Maegor, Aerys, and Aerion."

"And finally Aegon the Conqueror, Aerys, Maegor, and Jaehaerys!"

He challenged, "Over all those generations, how many pure-blooded Targaryens died taming dragons?!"

Baelon insisted, "I am going to Dragonstone."

"The Red Keep has countless secret passages. Finding a ship to take me to Dragonstone in secret would hardly be difficult."

"Dragonstone is my fief, yet I have never set foot there. I have only stayed quietly in the Red Keep for six years because I did not want you to worry."

Viserys looked like a helpless father now.

He simply clutched his head in both hands, elbowed at the Seven, and paced back and forth in despair.

Rhaenyra was the youngest dragonrider, and even she had only become one at seven.

And that had been with Syrax, the dragon who had grown up alongside her.

Unwilling to give up, he asked, "Wouldn't a young dragon from the Dragonpit do?"

Baelon shook his head.

Whether fighting dragons or humans, a dragon's size played an absolutely decisive role.

Even after growing, Syrax was only a fifth of Vermithor's size.

Young dragons' scales were not hard enough and could be pierced by crossbow bolts. Their dragonfire was not hot enough, and even their strength was insufficient to contend with seagoing ships and warships.

Viserys despairingly rubbed his long hair into a mess.

Was this a tradition belonging to Baelon Targaryens?!

Every Baelon Targaryen had to cause some great commotion at five or six!

His father, Baelon the Brave, had entered the Dragonpit at five and punched Balerion in the nose.

His son, Baelon the Merciful, insisted on entering Dragonmont at five to tame Vermithor.

Perhaps he should be glad that at least Baelon the Merciful had no intention of punching Vermithor in the nose!

Seeing this, Baelon decided to tell a white lie.

Perhaps that would make it easier for Viserys to accept.

"Father, I need a full-grown dragon to protect me."

"Who would hurt you?!" Viserys shouted.

"Myself."

"My dreams," Baelon said earnestly.

"The gift you call being a Dreamwalker."

"I can roam through dreams and obtain the knowledge I want, but lately, strange things have been appearing in my dreams over and over."

He frowned. "Ice and snow filling the sky, darkness, people crawling out of the ground, returning from the dead..."

Viserys froze and slowly lowered his hands.

Aegon the Conqueror's dream, A Song of Ice and Fire.

The secret passed from king to heir through the generations.

He had not yet told Baelon about it. Baelon was still young, a little dragon living in summer.

Aegon had foreseen the end of mankind, a winter howling down from the north.

The darkness that came with winter, the lurkers within that darkness...

Baelon mixed truth with lies. "And white wolves with green eyes, all sorts of enormous beasts..."

"I saw them, and they saw me too!"

"They killed me in my dreams, and I woke in the real world with my head splitting."

He slowly looked at Viserys, his expression grave. "I have a feeling, Father."

"Even dying in dreams has its limit."

"Perhaps one day, I will die in a dream for good and never wake in the real world."

Unfortunately, he had silver-gold Targaryen hair rather than black hair.

Otherwise, he could have dyed a streak white, pulled it out, and called it proof that his vitality was being excessively depleted.

That would have been even more convincing.

Viserys let out a long sigh.

He closed his eyes in pain. "I'm sorry."

"I never noticed any of this."

He had thought he had protected Baelon.

Letting him live amid flowers, laughter, applause, and praise, surrounding him with everything beautiful.

"I never realized your gift would bring you pain."

Viserys pulled Baelon into his arms, hot tears rolling down his face.

He was not a competent father.

Baelon: ...

Oh, come on... look what this has turned into...

No father who loved his child could win a battle of wills against that child.

Especially when the child's safety was involved.

In the end, Viserys agreed to let him go to Dragonstone.

But on the condition that he would go to Dragonstone too and stay by his side.

Baelon did not mind and returned to his room, satisfied.

Suddenly.

He remembered something and summoned Lola, his maid and housekeeper.

He handed her a gold dragon. "If an old man comes to the Red Keep, find any room outside the Red Keep where you can receive him for me."

Lola was puzzled.

Baelon explained, "You only need to listen to him talk."

"He seems terribly sad, and he has no one to talk to."

The next day.

Daemon and Rhaenyra abruptly learned that Viserys would accompany Baelon to Dragonstone to tame a dragon.

Daemon raised his eyelids and swept a casual glance over the three people at the dining table.

His elder brother Viserys was weak and incapable, but barely counted as a normal person. He merely had a problem with his personality.

His niece Rhaenyra was beautiful and strong, but close to a Hightower, and sometimes her brain did not work very well.

As for his nephew.

Heh.

That boy had probably inherited the Targaryens' mad blood, or his prophetic dreams had addled his mind!

He had been strange since he was little.

After a careful reckoning, Daemon was actually the only normal, rational Targaryen.

"Rhaenyra has only just been injured. She should not undertake a long journey," Viserys instructed carefully. "Daemon, I am entrusting Rhaenyra to you."

Daemon's lips curled into a mocking smile. "Since Rhaenyra has only just been injured, why not stay and keep her company?"

"Let that boy go off to Dragonstone and get himself killed."

"Daemon!" Viserys snapped.

Rhaenyra put down her bread and spoke in his defense. "Baelon is my brother and your nephew, Uncle!"

"A nephew with mad blood?" Daemon said without restraint.

Baelon sneered. "An uncle who might end up bedding his own bastard sons and daughters without knowing it?"

"Uncle, when you're enjoying yourself on the Street of Silk, can you recognize which girls really are your bastard daughters?"

"Isn't there something about..." Baelon's lips curled into a smile. "The bond between fathers and daughters, fathers and sons?"

"Baelon!" Viserys shouted wearily.

"Enough!"

As usual, he played peacemaker, suppressing every discordant note and keeping the waters still.

"All of you, eat your food!"

After yesterday's events.

Rhaenyra's state of mind was no longer what it had been. She had risen above it.

Nothing could stir any ripples in her heart anymore.

She shook her head helplessly. Baelon was still young, so that was understandable, but why were her uncle and father so hot-tempered and irritable?

Baelon glanced over the three Targaryens as he ate.

Anyone would be stunned by the antics those three had pulled yesterday.

Everyone said the Uchiha were unhinged, but he doubted they were as unhinged as the three Targaryens in front of him.

Each had a unique brand of madness, without any overlap.

His family of origin was truly suffocating. Baelon shook his head. In the future, he would have to rely more on dragons and himself.

After that, the four quietly ate breakfast together.

Dozens of breakfast dishes covered the table.

Daemon's gold plate held a great mound of greasy roast meat. He tore off a small rib with his bare hands, coated it in bright red currant sauce, and tossed it into his mouth.

Viserys preferred tender stewed meat, while Rhaenyra favored sweets. Honeyed quail and candied cherries were her favorites.

As for Baelon, he liked lightly seasoned food.

There were only five Targaryens in Westeros. With Rhaenys married into House Velaryon, that left four.

Yet even those four could not agree on their tastes.

The sailors dragged a large ship into the sea and crewed it with dozens of skilled oarsmen.

After they hoisted the sails, the Seven obligingly sent gentle, balmy sea breezes that filled the yellowed canvas.

Baelon and Viserys boarded the ship and waved vigorously, bidding farewell to Rhaenyra and Daemon, one shorter and one taller, on the shore.

The bow lifted slightly, cutting a dark blue path through the water.

Spray flew as the great ship cleaved through the waves.

The ship disappeared into the boundless, hazy blue sea.

Rhaenyra blinked, withdrew her gaze, and looked at Daemon.

Her uncle was staring at the assembled senior members of the Small Council with a sharp, strange look.

The salty sea breeze struck their faces, and loud rushing sounds rose from beneath the ship.

Brimming with high spirits, Baelon stood on a wooden crate and then rose onto his toes.

At last, he could see over the gunwale and look out at the vast, boundless sea.

The water surged beneath the ship, beautiful wine-blue waves and snow-white foam parting to either side.

It was beautiful.

Dragonstone!

Vermithor!

Here he came!

"Urgh-"

"Urgh-"

Viserys and Baelon both clutched wooden buckets and vomited profusely.

Ser Swan brought over a plate of lemons. "Try these. They're said to ease seasickness."

The two silver-haired figures raised their heads, revealing two similar, deathly pale and haggard faces.

Baelon put a slice of lemon in his mouth, and his face instantly scrunched up beyond his control.

Overwhelmed by the sea's might, the seasick Baelon felt so miserable that he no longer wanted to think about any dragons.

What kind of lousy sea was this? All gray and hideous!

He just wanted someone to knock him out so that he could close his eyes and open them again to find himself on Dragonstone!

Unfortunately, that was only wishful thinking.

The seasick Baelon's thoughts grew darker by the day.

At first, he had only thought that once he tamed a dragon, he would never have to travel by ship again.

Then, he tried imagining Vermithor breathing dragonfire and boiling the Narrow Sea dry!

Finally, he wished a gigantic sea monster would come along and suck all the seawater in the world into its belly!

But nothing happened along the way.

An adult dragon could fly between Dragonstone and King's Landing several times in a single day.

The voyage by sea, however, took several days.

Without dragons, Viserys and Baelon finally reached Dragonstone several days later.

The ship sailed into Dragonstone's harbor and docked safely.

Baelon could hardly wait to step off the ship, his feet landing on the tidal flats washed by the waves, the moment he stood on solid ground.

He came completely back to life, once again appreciating how wonderful dry land was.

After standing in the sea breeze for a while, Baelon patted his sallow cheeks and quickly recovered.

His eyes shone as he gazed toward the towering volcano on Dragonstone.

Five great dragons made their home there.

Silverwing, Vermithor, and three wild dragons.

Grey Ghost, Sheepstealer, and Cannibal.

"Be especially careful of that one called 'Cannibal.'"

Viserys was not as energetic as a child, after all, and his voice sounded weak just then.

Baelon nodded, brimming with energy.

Cannibal was the largest and fiercest of the three wild dragons.

Coal-black all over, with a pair of ghastly green eyes, he would steal dragon eggs to eat, along with the corpses of other dragons.

"Fortunately, dragons all have their own territories, and the three wild dragons never make enemies of Silverwing and Vermithor."

Baelon said, "Once we work out where Vermithor is, we can avoid the three wild dragons. There shouldn't be any problems."