Chapter 54 : Dragon

Everyone in Stone Drum Tower knew that the princess had acquired another fool.

Stone Drum Tower was the heart of Dragonstone, built by the Targaryens using ancient Valyrian craftsmanship.

Its black walls loomed like the back of a resting dragon, and whenever storms rolled in, thunder echoed through the halls, drumming against the stone as if the castle itself were alive.

Princess Shireen sat in Aegon's Garden with a heavy book in her lap. Between two pine trees, her father had placed a swing for her.

Nearby, Patchface danced through the wild roses and thorns, chasing butterflies and singing his strange, nonsensical songs. The rhythm of his chants seemed etched into his very soul.

Standing beside Shireen was a young man dressed in a simple white cloth shirt. He was strikingly handsome—elegant, with sharp brows that arched ever so slightly, giving him a gentle air. His eyes, an unusual mix of violet and blue, shimmered like starlight.

A cloth cap covered his head, though some whispered that beneath it, he was as bald as Patchface. Few knew the truth: his hair had been burned away—twice.

He stood with his hands behind his back, silent and watchful like a guard.

Rumors swirled about him. Some said Stannis, in his bid for the throne, had gathered fools instead of bannermen—one, a mad jester, the other, a mute eunuch with a good-looking face.

After all, what was a palace without its jesters and eunuchs?

Shireen turned a page in her book. "Aegon Targaryen rode a dragon from Dragonstone to the Seven Kingdoms," she read aloud.

She glanced up at the young man. "Silent Knight, do you think dragons still exist?"

The name was one she had given him herself. The others called him dumb, but he was the only one who ever listened when she read.

Cole looked at her—at the gray, dead skin on the left side of her face, cracked like stone. Just moments ago, he had been controlling the silver dragon, feigning death to hunt seabirds. His little trick had worked.

Already, he could feel the dragon growing stronger.

"Yes," he said.

Shireen's mouth fell open. "Ah! Silent Knight—you can speak?"

Cole smiled. "Of course, Princess."

"The maester and the others… they said you were—" She hesitated.

"A fool and a mute?" Cole finished for her, unfazed.

Shireen nodded. "But you're not, are you?"

He tilted his head slightly. "What do you think?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so at all."

"I've read enough books to know I'm not a fool," he said simply.

Shireen's eyes widened with excitement. "You can read?"

Cole nodded. "I've read nearly every book on the Wall."

"The Wall?" Her curiosity deepened. "Were you a man of the Night's Watch?"

"I grew up there," Cole said. "But I never took the oath. I was never a Black Brother."

"Black Knight, Black Knight, fly, fly—I know, I know, oh oh oh!" Patchface suddenly sang as he bounded toward them.

"Ah! Patchface, you scared me!" Shireen exclaimed.

"Bad guy, bad guy, oh oh oh!" Patchface leapt in a wild jig, lifting one foot high while hopping on the other. Shireen laughed and chased after him. The two of them ran through the garden, their laughter ringing like bells through Aegon's Garden.

It was the only place on Dragonstone where joy still lingered.

Everywhere else, the air was thick with tension.

Servants moved about the castle in hushed whispers. Knights strode through the halls, their faces set in grim determination. The weight of an approaching storm pressed down upon them all.

War was coming.

With Robert Baratheon dead, the Seven Kingdoms had erupted into chaos. In the Riverlands, the Lannisters and Starks clashed in open battle.

In the Reach, many lords had rallied behind Renly Baratheon, declaring him the rightful king as they gathered their forces to march on King's Landing.

And on Dragonstone, Lord Stannis Baratheon, Duke of Dragonstone, had laid his own claim to the Iron Throne—against his own brother.

When Cole controlled the white dragon to explore the coast, he often saw ships and warships coming and going. It was clear that Dragonstone was preparing for war.

The island could not support large cavalry forces, but it could build a formidable fleet. Stannis's navy had been expanding ever since Robert took the throne. As Lord of Dragonstone and former Master of Ships, Stannis had built a fleet that could still be considered part of the Royal Fleet.

His flagship, Fury, along with Lord Velaryon's Pride of Driftmark and countless other massive warships, sat in the harbor like floating fortresses.

This fleet had once proven its might during the Greyjoy Rebellion, where it crushed the infamous Iron Fleet. Though not the most powerful navy in Westeros, its strength was undeniable.

At the port, the taverns were overflowing with soldiers. Dragonstone had not been this lively in years. Merchants arrived in droves, drawn by the scent of silver and war.

From the castle, Princess Shireen often gazed curiously toward the distant market, watching the bustling activity below.

After tiring of playing with Patchface, she returned to her swing. Though she spent most of her days quietly reading in her chambers, she would occasionally indulge in play—after all, she was still just a nine-year-old girl.

She sighed softly. Patchface, as always, was full of energy, hopping around, singing, and telling strange jokes that only he seemed to understand.

"Patchface is my best friend," Shireen explained to Cole.

She did not say the rest aloud: He is also my only friend.

"They say he drifted in from the sea," she added.

Cole appeared absentminded, but in truth, he was focused on controlling the white dragon. Just moments ago, he had nearly exposed himself to a passing fisherman.

The little dragon was now the size of a duck—far too small to defend itself. If it were caught, the consequences would be unimaginable.

His gaze shifted to the oddly dressed jester. Sometimes, Cole wasn't sure whether to pity or envy him. At the very least, Patchface seemed free—blissfully unaware of the weight of the world.

"I think Patchface knows who his best friend is," Cole said.

Only someone as gentle and kind as Princess Shireen would call a fool her friend.

Few people spoke so freely with her, and it was clear she cherished it. Her expression brightened.

"Cole, you said dragons still exist. Have you ever seen one?" she asked, eyes shining with curiosity.

Cole hesitated. He thought of the little white dragon, then finally answered, "I have."

He just isn't very big… yet, he silently added.

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