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After the greetings, Aemon led the group through the passage behind them.
As they walked, Aemon explained to Gaemon, "This tunnel connects directly to the interior of Dragonstone Castle. It was built back in the days of the Valyrian Freehold, and our family has used it ever since we arrived here."
Gaemon nodded curiously, glancing around the passage. In the flickering light of the torches ahead, he could make out the walls—black stone so dark it seemed to drink in the light.
Walking through the equally black tunnel, Gaemon asked Aemon ahead of him, "Is the entire castle built from this black stone? That must have been an enormous undertaking."
Aemon continued forward without slowing, his voice carrying a note of pride. "Correct. Every brick and stone here is Valyrian black stone. The tunnel alone stretches nearly a mile to the castle proper. It's hard to imagine the manpower and resources it took to build something like this. Only the Valyrian Freehold could have managed it."
Though the Targaryens had left Valyria before its fall, the memory of that once-mighty empire's glory was woven into their blood. It was a source of ancestral pride that every Targaryen carried.
Gaemon nodded in understanding. His question had simply been to confirm what he already suspected. Neither the early Targaryens on Dragonstone nor the current rulers of the Iron Throne had the capability to construct such an extensive underground passage. This wasn't some narrow rat-run like the secret tunnels beneath the Red Keep—this was a wide, grand corridor wide enough for dragonriders to ride through if needed.
The tunnel was every bit as long as Aemon had described. It took the three brothers a good half hour before they finally emerged from a side room beside Aegon's Garden inside the castle.
Stepping out into the open air, Gaemon squinted against the sudden brightness after the long, dim walk. The sunlight made his eyes sting for a moment.
He blinked several times until his vision cleared, then looked at the others and saw they were doing the same.
The sight of his brothers rubbing their eyes struck Gaemon as oddly funny. He burst out laughing.
Hearing him, Aemon and Baelon exchanged a glance, then started laughing too.
For a moment, the three brothers stood there laughing for no clear reason, while the guards behind them stared in confusion.
They didn't explain. When the laughter finally died down, Aemon grinned at them. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up first. You two smell like dragon—trust me, it's not pleasant."
Neither Gaemon nor Baelon argued. They nodded and followed Aemon.
As they walked through Aegon's Garden, Ser Elio Scars, who had been waiting, hurried forward to greet them. Before the princes could reach him, the castellan bowed deeply.
Aemon spoke first. "No need for formalities here, Ser Elio. Is the bathhouse ready?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Elio replied quickly, still bent at the waist. "Everything is prepared. The princes may bathe whenever they wish."
Ser Elio moved with impressive efficiency. Under his guidance, Gaemon and Baelon soon reached the castle's bathhouse. They stripped off their clothes and stepped into the steaming pool.
"Ahhh… that's better," Baelon sighed, sinking into the hot water with obvious relief.
Riding dragons for hours was not as comfortable as it sounded. The constant motion took its toll, much like a long day in the saddle.
Since they still needed to meet with Aemon afterward, Gaemon and Baelon didn't linger. They soaked just long enough to wash away the dragon-stench, then dressed and left the bathhouse.
Only now, stepping out into the open, did Gaemon have a proper chance to look at his family's ancestral seat—Dragonstone Castle.
"Wow… How did they carve those dragons on the towers? Truly worthy of Valyrian craftsmanship. It's magnificent."
He had known about Dragonstone and seen descriptions, but reading about it or hearing stories was nothing compared to seeing it with his own eyes.
Dragonstone Castle stood on a seaside cliff. While its footprint wasn't enormous—originally built as a Valyrian outpost with military needs in mind—the soaring towers and majestic dragon carvings left Gaemon genuinely awed.
The shock came from the sheer artistry and ingenuity of the Valyrian stonemasons. It was the same feeling a modern person might have walking into a grand medieval cathedral after seeing nothing but steel-and-glass skyscrapers.
This was the kind of beauty and grandeur that mechanical construction could never replicate.
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