The gangplank thudded against the dock, black volcanic stone slick with seawater.
Without a word, Viserys lifted Baelon into his arms, one hand beneath his knees, the other supporting his back.
Baelon did not protest.
The climb from the harbor to the castle gates was steep, and the endless stone steps looked daunting even to adult eyes.
They climbed slowly.
The path wound upward along the mountainside, each step worn smooth by centuries of feet.
To Baelon, it felt less like a staircase and more like the spine of some slumbering beast leading toward its head.
Then the gates came into view.
They dwarfed even the walls of the Red Keep.
Two colossal dragons had been carved from the black stone itself, their jaws meeting to form the entrance.
Up close, the craftsmanship stole his breath.
Every scale was larger than a man’s shield.
Their wings folded around the archway, and their polished obsidian eyes seemed almost alive, watching every soul who entered.
Baelon craned his neck until it ached.
“They’re beautiful…” Viserys smiled faintly.
“Your ancestors built this place long before Aegon conquered Westeros.”
Baelon looked around.
“It doesn’t look built.” A faint smile crossed the king’s face.
“No.” He rested a hand against the black stone.
“The Valyrians shaped Dragonstone with dragonfire.” They passed beneath the dragons’ jaws into an inner courtyard where warmth radiated from the very walls.
It was not the warmth of sunlight, but something deeper.
Volcanic heat from below.
He slipped from his father’s arms and pressed a small palm against the wall.
It was warm.
Viserys noticed.
“The Dragonmont.” Baelon looked up.
“The mountain’s fires run beneath the castle.” He ran his fingers slowly across the stone.
“It never gets cold?”
“Rarely.”
Baelon hesitated before asking another question.
“What is inside the mountain?” Viserys fell silent for a moment.
When he finally answered, his voice carried quiet reverence.
“Our dragons.” Baelon blinked.
“Ours?”
“The family’s.”
Viserys nodded.
“When dragons have no rider, they return to Dragonstone.
This was their home long before King’s Landing ever existed.” He lifted Baelon once more and carried him onward through winding corridors.
Torches cast long shadows that seemed to shift whenever he looked away.
The air smelled faintly of smoke and old fire.
Then—a door twice Baelon’s height opened into vastness
The Chamber of Painted Table
Before him stretched an immense slab of carved stone.
The Painted Table.
Westeros lay beneath his eyes.
Mountains rose from its surface.
Rivers wound across it in silver channels.
Forests, castles, islands, and coastlines had all been carved in astonishing detail before being painted centuries ago.
Viserys set him gently upon the floor.
Baelon walked slowly around the table.
His fingertips brushed across the carved coastline of the Reach. The source of this chapter is g.com.
Then the Riverlands.
Then the Neck.
“It is the whole kingdom…”
“It is.”
Viserys stepped beside him.
“Aegon the Conqueror stood beside this very table before he crossed the Narrow Sea.” His hand rested lightly upon the carved coast of Dragonstone.
“This room is where Conquest was planned” Baelon’s fingers wandered farther south.
They stopped at Dorne.
“Why did he never conquer it?” Viserys looked down at the carved deserts.
“Not even dragons could make Dorne kneel.
Some kingdoms are harder to conquer than they appear.”
The silence between them felt comfortable.
Instead, Viserys guided him further into the chamber, a raised dais where a single chair overlooked the Painted Table.
Unlike the Iron Throne, it possessed no swords.
It had been carved entirely from black volcanic stone.
Dragons formed its armrests, their wings folded neatly along the sides.
“The Conqueror’s Seat,” Viserys said.
“Before King’s Landing…”
“…this was where the kings of House Targaryen ruled.”
Baelon circled it once.
“It feels smaller.” Viserys chuckled.
Then— A low rumble echoed through the chamber, like distant thunder but deeper—something alive in it.
The sound rolled through the stone beneath Baelon’s feet.
It came again.
Longer this time.
“They know we’re here,” Viserys said quietly.
A third rumble shook dust from the ceiling above them.
Viserys gently took his hand.
“They rest within the Dragonmont.” His voice had fallen almost to a whisper.
“And some have slept there longer than either of us has lived.” Baelon stepped away from the Conqueror’s Seat as realization struck him—the dragons weren’t just bones on these walls; they were below them too; living fire sleeping under Dragonmont
Baelon’s chamber was modest by the standards of the Red Keep.
Round walls of black stone enclosed the room.
A narrow window overlooked the restless sea, where waves shattered endlessly against the cliffs below.
Sulfur drifted through the open shutters, mixing with salt and smoke.
His dragon egg sat upon its usual stand near his bed—the same one carried from King’s Landing, its dark shell veined with silver like lightning trapped within obsidian depths.
Viserys set him down gently beside it and smoothed back silver hair from his son’s forehead with fingers calloused from years wielding sword rather than scepter.
“Rest a while,” He smiled gently.
“The wedding preparations begin tonight.” Then he left.
The door clicked shut.
Baelon waited only until the footsteps faded.
Then he slipped quietly into the corridor.
Ser Steffon, as expected, appeared almost immediately.
“My prince.”
“I only want to look.”
Steffon sighed with practiced resignation.
“So long as I look with you.” Together they wandered into the inner ward.
Beyond the walls rose the Dragonmont. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
It rose like a sleeping beast, its peak wreathed in thin grey smoke.
The mountain breathed.
He could almost feel it.
A figure rounded the corner carrying two heavy buckets that smelled strongly of fresh meat.
Sun-darkened skin creased at his eyes; He wore a heavy black wool tunic with worn leather bracers and gloves, the faded three-headed dragon of House Targaryen embroidered across his chest.
Upon noticing the prince, he slowed down and bowed respectfully.
“My prince.”
Baelon pointed toward the mountain.
“What lives in there?” The man smiled.
“Dragons.” He Kept the buckets down.
“I am one of the Dragonkeepers.” Baelon stared toward the smoking mountain.
“Can people go inside?” The man’s smile widened.
“If they know the way.
There are countless tunnels beneath Dragonstone.
Some lead to the great caverns where the older dragons make their lairs.
Others lead to smaller nesting chambers.”
“They say wild dragons have made nests there for generations.”
Baelon’s eyes widened.
“You know where they all are?” The Dragonkeeper chuckled.
“We Dragonkeepers remember the safe paths.
It is our duty, we feed them, we care for them and we keep foolish men from wandering into places they should never go.”
He studied the young prince for a moment before smiling.
“Come, I’ll show you something.” Steffon nodded once, allowing it.
The Dragonkeeper led them through a series of narrow passages warmed by the mountain itself.
The deeper they descended, the hotter the air became.
Eventually they reached a circular chamber carved into the rock.
Stone shelves lined the walls.
Upon them rested dozens of dragon eggs.
Some were black as midnight.
Others shimmered bronze, crimson, blue, or pale cream streaked with gold.
Baelon stared in awe.
“So many…”
The Dragonkeeper smiled.
“Every egg laid by the dragons is brought here until the king decides its fate.” The keeper walked along the shelves before stopping near an empty stone pedestal.
“You see this place?” Baelon nodded.
He looked toward the prince.
“Princess Rhaenyra chose your dragon egg herself.
She searched this chamber until she found the one she believed belonged to her little brother.”
🌌 Join The Cosmos Community!
The official Discord server is now live!
Become part of the community to:
💬 Discuss the latest chapters
📖 Share your theories and predictions
🎨 Share fan art and memes
📢 Receive release notifications and creator updates
🤝 Chat with fellow readers