If it was edible, he'd eat it, effectively turning the future great dragon into an omnivore.
An hour later, after crossing the Narrow Sea, Drogon flew north along the coast, the direction where Dragonstone should be. He flew for a while before noticing the coastline gradually being submerged by the sea, creating new sea levels and significantly expanding the ocean. Yet Dragonstone remained nowhere in sight.
Confused by the situation, he continued north. After twenty minutes, a massive island appeared in the distance. His heart leaped, and he accelerated toward it.
As he drew closer, he saw the island's true appearance. Though vast, it lacked any decent structures, let alone a castle.
Not Dragonstone, and he didn't know which island this was. He flew higher to survey the entire sea, but no other islands were visible. He had no choice but to continue flying.
Ten minutes later, still seeing nothing, he knew he'd flown in the wrong direction. He changed course and flew east toward the deep sea. If he couldn't find Dragonstone, he'd have to circle the surrounding waters.
Five minutes later, he spotted a small island in the distance with a towering castle and the faint outline of large ships on the sea. *This must be it,* Drogon thought, his heart soaring.
As the Duke of Dragonstone, Stannis was likely hiding here, licking his wounds after his defeat at King's Landing.
As he drew closer, the island's full layout came into view. The entire castle was built in the shape of a soaring dragon, its walls arranged in regular rows like the creature's folded wings. A narrow, stone-paved causeway stretched from the beach straight to the fortress.
Around the castle lay about thirty warships of varying sizes, all in disrepair. Drogon, observing Dragonstone from high above, showed no haste to descend.
He didn't know the location of the long table map, only that it was in a room on a high elevation with an extended terrace.
Waiting until nightfall to search for the map table would be ideal, but it was only around ten in the morning, and he couldn't wait that long.
Melisandre, Stannis's red-robed priestess, had likely accompanied him to Dragonstone. She was a formidable figure who had once given birth to Shadow-Children to assassinate Renly, used leech spells to curse three false kings, and even resurrected Jon.
Drogon deeply distrusted her and the sorcerer's arcane methods; he preferred not to encounter her.
After carefully surveying Dragonstone from the air, Drogon identified several tall structures. Unable to discern the details, he decided to investigate each one systematically.
Drogon selected a building and plummeted downward, slowing only as he neared the castle. He came to a sudden halt, landing on the rain terrace of a small, standalone building.
The moment he landed, he caught the scent of flatbread. *Wrong choice,* he thought to himself. After listening for a moment, he heard the sounds of activity inside. He poked his head through the window and confirmed it was the kitchen—several servants were busy preparing large quantities of ingredients.
Leaving the kitchen, he quickly flew to another target, but it wasn't right either.
Flapping his wings, he soared higher toward a bell tower-like structure. Just as he flew past a small window and clung to the tower's edge, he suddenly felt as if he had seen a pair of eyes in the fleeting moment.
He hadn't seen them clearly at such high speed. Slowly, he flew back to the window and listened for a while. When he heard nothing, he cautiously stuck his head out to confirm.
The instant he did, a pair of large, azure eyes slowly approached the window. Before he could react, the owner of the eyes let out a sharp cry.
"Ah!"
The scream startled Drogon so badly he nearly fell off the tower.
A little girl stood at the window, staring at him blankly, her book having fallen to the floor in fright. Her chubby little mouth was slightly agape, making her look quite adorable, but the left side of her face was covered in a layer of grayish-black, scale-like skin.
Princess Shireen. Drogon immediately knew her name. A kind, book-loving girl, cruelly sacrificed by her father, Stannis, to the Lord of Light.
Drogon's gaze drifted downward to the book lying on the floor: *The History of Aegon the Conqueror's Conquest of Westeros*.
What Drogon remembered most vividly about Shireen were the scenes of her teaching the Onion Knight to read and her tragic cries in the flames, begging her father to spare her.
Drogon could only lament that she had been born in the wrong time, under such a monstrous father. The dim, cramped room she lived in revealed the miserable life she endured.
Seeing that Drogon hadn't flown away, Shireen bravely opened the small window, finally getting a full view of the dragon. His scales were exquisitely crafted and shone like polished obsidian, his wings half-spread like crimson cloaks, and around his slender neck hung a brown backpack larger than his own body.
"You... you're a dragon?" Shireen asked timidly.
Drogon hesitated, then nodded.
"You can understand me?" Shireen exclaimed in surprise, her eyes widening as she saw him nod.
Seeing his nod, she pressed on, "Were you born from an egg? What are you doing here? That backpack is so big—isn't it heavy?"
Drogon: "..."
Realizing Drogon could only listen and not speak, Shireen continued on her own, "You're so much like the 'Black Dread' Balerion! He was the largest and longest-lived dragon in all of history. I read that in a book!"
After saying this, Shireen showed Drogon the book's cover and then flipped through the illustrations inside.
When Shireen mentioned the backpack, Drogon remembered he had a few candied dates inside, perfect for bribing the little girl.
His small claws reached into the leather pouch and offered the remaining three candied dates to Shireen.
"Are... are these for me?" Shireen asked, her eyes wide with surprise at the sight of the bright red, translucent dates.
Seeing Drogon nod, she carefully reached out and took one, popping it into her mouth. Her eyes closed in bliss as the sweet date melted on her tongue, and she thought it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.
Watching Shireen's cute, squinting expression and considering her dark, cramped room, Drogon guessed her parents never gave her anything good. As a princess, her life was little better than Daenerys Targaryen's.
Looking at her small face, Drogon remembered how Samwell had cured Jorah's Greyscale. He believed Shireen's face could be cured too.
Samwell was probably still playing hide-and-seek with White Walkers on the Wall, and it would be a long time before he could go to the Citadel. In the meantime, she had to make sure Stannis didn't burn her alive.
The only one who could save Shireen was the Onion Knight, the smuggler who had supplied Stannis with onions and pickled fish to get him out of a tight spot.
If he wasn't already in the dungeons, he was close to being thrown in. Yet, he had outlived Stannis and survived to the end.
Shireen ate a candied date, licked her lips, and looked at the other candied dates in Drogon's paw without reaching for them. Drogon extended his claw forward. Shireen hesitated, then said, "I'll just take one. You can have the other two!"
Drogon found her reluctance amusing and nudged his claw forward again. Only then did Shireen carefully take another.
"What's in your backpack? It's so big! Doesn't it weigh you down?" Shireen asked between bites, her curiosity piqued.
She wasn't wondering if there were more snacks inside. She was simply baffled as to why such a small dragon would carry a backpack larger than himself. She didn't believe it was filled solely with candied dates.
Drogon tilted his head, removed the backpack from his neck, and placed it on the windowsill, gesturing for Shireen to examine it herself, fully indulging her curiosity.
-----------------------
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(End of Chapter)