Dragonstone seemed like a lonely island in the sea, ringed by sheer cliffs. The Sword of Sorrow hung on the horizon like a wound torn across the purple-red sky.
At the heart of Dragonstone was Dragonmont, a strange volcano. The castle stood beneath it, and pale gray steam constantly rose from the geothermal vents on Dragonmont behind the walls.
Gendry and the others had sailed here from Storm's End aboard warships. Great Lord Stannis Baratheon's flagship, the Fury, was a three-decked warship with three hundred oars, while Gendry's flagship, the Storm, was an even larger warship with four hundred oars.
With matters in the Stormlands settled, Renly Baratheon had been stripped of his honors for treason and sent to The Wall. Lady Catelyn Stark had completed her task as well and taken her leave for Riverrun. The Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell, had also returned to his own Highgarden, carrying wounds across half his body and a heart heavy with grief.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
After they disembarked, Dragonstone's fierce wind swept over them, whipping up their hair. The more open the ground, the stronger the wind.
"Salty and bitter. Volcano and sulfur," Gendry said, catching a different scent in the air. Dragonstone's briny air always carried smoke and the smell of sulfur.
"Dragonstone. I'm back." Gendry held Daenerys's hand. Daenerys kept looking around, and the closer they came to Dragonstone, the more excited she became. She had been born here, then carried away while still in swaddling clothes. At the time, Dragonstone had been on the verge of falling, and Ser Willem Darry and his four men had taken Viserys and Daenerys safely to Braavos.
Daenerys wore the pelt of the white lion Heraq, whose warm fur shielded her from the howling wind. She looked at everything on Dragonstone with delight. To House Targaryen, Dragonstone meant far too much.
"You're home too," Daenerys said, stroking the head of the green dragon Vhagar in her arms. The magic dragons were very sensitive to the scent of fire and sulfur, and had grown even more lively.
The black dragon Balerion and the white dragon were restless as well, constantly trying to burst out of the wicker baskets. But Gendry had secured them properly, so the little dragons could only rage inside the baskets, clawing and tugging at the weave.
Gendry rubbed their heads. Once they reached the foot of Dragonmont, they could spread their wings and fly.
The group first came to the crowded harbor. Surrounded by so many fat-bellied armed merchant ships and cargo ships, even the flagship seemed small.
For some time, any ship that sailed within sight of Dragonstone had been detained by Great Lord Stannis.
"What do you plan to do with these ships, Uncle Stannis?" Gendry asked Great Lord Stannis.
"Release them at the proper time. A good time." Stannis had originally meant to use all these ships for a landing at King's Landing, but now, if wildfire was involved, that would be sending them all to their deaths. It would also offend the other city-states Across the Narrow Sea and the other lords of Westeros.
Gendry, Stannis, Daenerys, Ser Barristan, the red priestess, and the others passed through Dragonstone's sprawling military camp before reaching the castle courtyard. Yet there were pitifully few soldiers in the camp, only two or three thousand in all.
"I never wanted this place," Stannis Baratheon said to Gendry after they got off the ship. "Even after all these years, I still have not grown used to it."
The Onion Knight Davos followed behind them. He knew these matters perfectly well.
Stannis had taken this place because Robert's enemies, the remaining loyalists, had occupied Dragonstone, and the King had ordered him to clear them out. Stannis built a fleet, defeated the enemy, and was granted Dragonstone in the end. But then the King gave Storm's End's lands and taxes to his younger brother Renly, leaving Stannis furious.
Dragonstone had only a few minor nobles under its banner, and the outer islands they ruled were rocky, rugged, and sparsely populated. Dragonstone was no fine seat. It was a lonely fortress in the sea, a damp, cold wasteland ringed all year by storms and cruel waters, with the smoking shadow of a volcano behind it, gloomy and barren.
"But now things are very different. The net around King's Landing is taking shape, and in the future the main army will be stationed at Harrenhal," Gendry said in comfort. He had thought of a better place for Stannis. Besides the Dragonstone base, there would also be the Harrenhal base, and Great Lord Stannis could garrison and command from there.
With the true dragon's return home, the living volcano, and the rise of dragons once more, Dragonstone's position would become far more important.
"Still, if I must say something for Dragonstone, it does have one virtue. One small virtue," Stannis said. "Dragonstone has a long history and is nearly impossible to take. That is one of its few merits."
Gendry entered Dragonstone Castle. The castle truly was unlike any other. It had been built using advanced Valyrian stonemasonry, and since most Valyrian arts had been lost in the Doom, that made it unique among the castles of Westeros.
"So many dragons," Gendry thought. Dragons and Valyrian elements were everywhere in Dragonstone Castle.
Dragonstone was built of black stone. Its towers were carved into the shapes of dragons, and hundreds upon thousands of gargoyles adorned its walls: wyverns, griffins, demons, manticores, minotaurs, basilisks, hellhounds, cockatrices, and a thousand stranger monsters besides.
"My lord husband, Lady Melisandre, you have returned. Has Renly sworn fealty to you? By the will of the true Lord above, you are their only lord. And who are they?" Stannis's wife, Lady Selyse, greeted them before the courtyard. When Selyse saw Gendry and Daenerys walking with Stannis and the red priestess, she asked suspiciously.
This woman of House Florent was almost as tall as her husband, thin and gaunt, with a sharp narrow face, protruding ears, a knife-edged nose, and a growth of hair on her upper lip. She plucked it every day and complained often, yet it never stopped growing. Her eyes were pale, her mouth severe, and her voice sharp as a whip.
Lady Selyse had also brought Axel Florent, the temporary castellan of Dragonstone and her uncle, as well as her only child, Shireen Baratheon. Ser Axel Florent wore a fox-fur coat, but even that could not make his plain looks any finer.
Daenerys could only feel helpless at the sight. With a woman this unattractive, no wonder Stannis always wore such a grim face. Everyone might claim to admire noble ladies of high character, but one foundation of marriage alliances was still the face.
"Lady, circumstances have changed," Great Lord Stannis said. Then he introduced them to Selyse. "This is the lawful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, the lawful heir of my brother Robert, Gendry. And this is Gendry's betrothed, Princess Daenerys Targaryen."
"The Sword of Sorrow hangs in the sky, red as fire, just like the fiery heart of the true Lord. Your age has come. There is no need for doubt. How can you bend the knee to another?" Lady Selyse said in dissatisfaction. The red priestess's preaching had completely captured her heart, causing her to abandon both the old and new gods of the Seven Kingdoms and turn to the god they called the Lord of Light.
"You are not afraid, are you? R'hllor, the Lord of Light, is the Heart of the Holy Flame, the true Lord of shadow and fire, and your most powerful ally." Selyse looked at Stannis.
"My lady, the true Lord has given the proper decree. This is the will of the Lord of Light above." The red priestess stepped forward with a smile and whispered a few words in Selyse's ear.
"The flame of the Lord of Light flickers at times... I believe you are the Lord of Light's banner in the mortal world." Lady Selyse spoke devoutly to Gendry.
Gendry did not know whether to laugh or sigh. A zealot like Selyse was truly difficult to deal with.
"This is my daughter, Shireen," Stannis said painfully, his voice half tender and half sorrowful. The gods had given him no son, and his daughter had suffered a grave illness as well. Mostly, Stannis and Selyse had little affection between them. They rarely shared a bed, and before this they had lived apart in practice.
Shireen Baratheon was a gentle, sweet, and lovable child, though sadly plain. She had Stannis's square jaw and the Florent ears. Worse, the cruel gods had afflicted her with grayscale in her cradle, her greatest misfortune. Though the disease had not taken her life or her sight, the skin on one cheek and half her neck had stiffened and died, cracked on the surface and mottled with black and gray patches.
"Hello, Shireen," Gendry and Daenerys greeted her.
Shireen returned their greeting. She was a shy little girl.
Gendry and Daenerys followed Great Lord Stannis into the main hall of Dragonstone Castle.
"There are dragons everywhere here. I think you will like it," Great Lord Stannis said.
"Yes, Prince, Princess," the Onion Knight continued as they walked deeper into Dragonstone Castle. "Dragons are everywhere on Dragonstone. The great hall is a dragon lying flat on the ground, and people enter through its open jaws. The kitchen is a dragon curled into a ball, with the smoke and steam from the ovens venting through its nostrils. The towers are dragons crouched on the walls or spreading their wings to fly. Windwyrm Tower screams in defiance of all things, while Sea Dragon Tower calmly watches the waves of the open sea. Smaller dragons decorate the doorframes. Dragon claws jut from the walls as torch sconces. Huge stone wings hold the smithy and armory, while dragon tails form arches, bridges, and outdoor staircases."
Daenerys listened with great interest, learning the structure of Dragonstone Castle in advance.
Gendry looked around and noticed that the fool Patchface was nowhere to be seen.
"He is not here," the red priestess said softly, leaning close to Gendry. "And there is no use in studying him."
"What do you mean?" Gendry asked.
"A projection of an evil god's will, not a complete god, so it means little. But I advise you not to bother with him. I have seen him many times in the sacred fire, sometimes draped in skulls, his lips stained with blood." The red priestess carried both fragrance and warmth. It was hard to tell whether the scent was her own, or brought by magic.
Gendry nodded, only half understanding. In any case, Patchface was dangerous.