On Dragonstone, the red comet was clearly visible even in daylight, bleeding across the sheer cliffs of Dragonstone, like a wound in the crimson sky.
The red comet was a terrifying mix of blood, flame, and sunset colors, while pale, grey steam continuously rose from the geothermal vents of Dragon Mountain behind the Castle of Dragonstone; this place was a rare volcanic landscape where dragons once soared across the vast sky.
Stannis's territory was merely an isolated island in the vast ocean. After the dragons disappeared, Dragonstone reverted to its desolate, lonely appearance.
"The gargoyles never change, only the masters of Dragonstone change again and again." "Shorty" Davos Seaworth looked at the black gargoyle statues perched on the high walls of the ancient Valyrian city—some were hellhounds, some were long-winged dragons, some were Sphinxes. There were thousands of these gargoyles, exuding the aura and stench of ancient Valyrian sorcery. Dragonstone was originally the westernmost outpost of the Valyrian Freehold.
Davos had served Duke Stannis on Dragonstone for a long time, and he was used to these ferocious statues. Davos walked through the alley, hearing a jingling, clanking sound.
"It's Princess Shireen." Davos recognized the sound and knew it was Stannis's only Child, Shireen, and her jester, Patchface. A pathetic little girl and her comical jester.
"It's me, Old Knight, are you going to see my father?" Princess Shireen was as shy as ever. The Child had innocent blue eyes, but unfortunately, the gods had not blessed her with corresponding beauty, unlike her more comely peers like Gendry and Edric Storm. Stannis himself was hardly handsome, let alone his wife, whose looks were not outstanding.
Davos felt a momentary pang in his heart. Perhaps the gods were too cruel to Stannis; he and his wife had little affection, and his only Child was a sickly, solitary daughter.
Shireen not only had her father's prominent square jaw but also, unfortunately, inherited her mother's ears, the prominent ears of House Florent. Furthermore, she had contracted greyscale as a young Child, nearly dying. Although she survived, it left a terrible disfigurement: half of her face down to her neck was stiff and necrotic, its surface cracked and peeling, interspersed with black-grey spots, feeling like hard stone to the touch. This was greyscale, the curse of the ancient Rhoynar.
"Yes." Davos nodded.
"I wanted to see the Old Maester, but he's not here anymore. The Old Maester used to take me and Patchface to see the white ravens," Shireen said.
A pang of sorrow struck Davos's heart. Shireen was the saddest Child Davos knew. Her father was preoccupied with grand schemes, and her mother had become a devout follower of the red god. As for the Red Priestess, that woman's machinations had kept Dragonstone from peace, and the Old Maester had died from her strange magic.
Davos looked at the little girl. Renly had mentioned an enticing proposal: for Shireen to marry Edric, but Stannis was always intractable on that suggestion.
Behind Shireen, shuffling and skipping with an odd gait, was her jester, Patchface. Patchface had red and green checkered patterns from his scalp to his neck, the mark of a Volantine jester. He wore a toy helmet made of an old tin bucket, with two antlers tied to the top, from which cowbells hung, making different sounds with his shuffling steps: clang-dong, bonk-thump, ring-a-ling, clatter-clank.
"Under the sea, the birds have scales and no feathers," Patchface shouted, the bells jingling with his movements. Clatter-clank-clank. "I know, I know, oh oh oh."
Davos felt a chill. Patchface was the most foolish jester he had ever seen, and he seemed to possess a strange magic.
A long, long time ago, perhaps he could have easily drawn laughter, but the sea had taken his ability, along with most of his sanity and all his memories. He was soft-bodied, sometimes twitching and trembling inexplicably, sometimes unable to speak clearly. This little girl was now the only one who still laughed at him, and probably the only one who cared whether he lived or died.
"I had a nightmare again, Old Knight, I dreamed dragons were going to eat me," Shireen told Davos.
Davos knew the princess was constantly plagued by nightmares, so he comforted the Child. "Dragons are long extinct and cannot be resurrected. Those are just stone carvings, merely the clever handiwork of the Valyrians, ancient arts that have been lost. They made the fortress strangely shaped to awe the world. So, you don't need to be afraid."
"But the thing in the sky, the woman in red says it's dragon's breath, an envoy of the red god," Shireen voiced her thoughts.
"That's just an ordinary comet, signifying a change in weather, the coming of autumn," Davos bravely encouraged the Child, though he himself had never seen such a terrifying celestial phenomenon. As a man who made his living on the sea, Davos's resilience was certainly extraordinary.
"Okay, after autumn comes winter, and I've never seen winter."
Patchface shook his bells. "Under the sea, it's summer every day!" he chanted, "Mermaids have seaweed in their hair, silver seaweed woven into gowns, I know, I know, oh oh oh!"
Shireen couldn't help but laugh. "I want a gown woven from silver seaweed too."
"Snow falls upwards under the sea," the jester added, "and rain dries like dead bones. I know, I know, oh oh oh!"
Patchface spoke and shook his bells, the sound making Davos feel even more uncomfortable.
Davos looked at the two. He was a powerful vassal under Stannis, but he didn't have time to keep singing with the Child and the jester. So Davos cleared his throat, intending to bid farewell to the princess.
"Some birds can talk, I want a bird that can sing too, so it can keep me company through the winter, a bird smarter than a white raven," the girl said, opening her mouth wide.
"Clever birds, clever men, clever fools and jesters," Patchface said, jingling and jangling, "Oh, clever, clever, clever fool and jester!" He began to sing, "Shadows come to dance, my Lords, dance, my Lords, dance, my Lords!" He sang while standing on one leg, then switched to the other. "Shadows come to stay, my Lords, stay, my Lords, stay, my Lords!" With each line, he twisted his head, the bells on his antlers ringing incessantly.
The sound startled Davos and the little girl. Shireen trembled slightly. "He sings this all day long. I told him not to, but Patchface won't stop. I'm so scared."
Davos looked at Patchface. Perhaps death would be kinder to the jester. He heard that the Old Maester had insisted on saving this foolish jester, who now sang these strange songs.
"Princess Shireen, your father and I have matters to discuss." So they parted ways, the little girl hurrying in another direction, Patchface trailing behind her, his cowbells ringing madly.
Davos proceeded directly to the Round Table Hall in the Stone Drum Tower, which was also Duke Stannis's usual haunt. The Stone Drum Tower was the main keep of Dragonstone, weathered by storms; whenever a tempest approached, the ancient walls within would rumble.
Davos strode along the corridor, passing a row of tall arched windows, his gaze sweeping over the exterior—the outer courtyard, the outer castle walls, and the fishing village opposite. In the courtyard, guards patrolled between the gaps of the gargoyles on the walls, archers practiced shooting in the courtyard, and thousands of troops were stationed by the castle, which was Stannis's greatest strength.
------------------------
There are already 70+ chapters available on my Patreon!
The story will continue to update 1 chapter per day on Webnovel,
while early access chapters are posted on Patreon.
Maybe it's not worth it today but it could be later
[email protected]/Kazenova223
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"