Baelon listened to Auris’s explanation and felt a surge of excitement rise inside him.
He forced it down and kept his voice steady.
“Auris, perhaps you should explain in detail exactly how you plan to heal my body. That would make the chances of us reaching an agreement much higher.”
Auris’s eyes lit up with obvious excitement and wild hope.
“You’re willing to accept my terms?!”
“It’s still too early to talk about payment. You should show some sincerity first. Go on.”
Auris cast another greedy glance at Ignir before answering.
“My method comes from the old Valyrian Freehold. It is blood magic passed down through House Daeneris for generations.”
“The spell is called Symbiosis with Dragons. It creates a far deeper bond between dragonrider and dragon, allowing them to share life force.”
“It greatly strengthens the rider’s body, granting unmatched strength, speed, endurance, and recovery. In theory, if the bond runs deep enough, the two can even share lifespan.”
“I believe this magic, used on you and your dragon, could restore your health.”
Baelon’s hands trembled slightly.
His throat felt dry with raw excitement.
Blood magic from old Valyria.
Sharing a dragon’s life force.
It sounded like pure fantasy, yet Baelon had reason to believe it.
He had read in the family archives that the greatest dragonlord houses of the Valyrian Freehold had produced warriors of unbelievable power—men who could even wrestle dragons.
And since this world already had magic that could bring the dead back to life, sharing a dragon’s vitality didn’t seem so impossible.
Still, Baelon refused to take Auris at his word.
He answered cautiously.
“Respected Auris Daeneris, I need evidence that proves what you say is true. If it is, neither my father nor I will be stingy.”
“You’ve probably heard that my father, the King of Westeros, has been waiting for me to stand on my own two feet. Dragonstone holds many unclaimed dragons, along with countless eggs and newly hatched dragons. There will be one that suits you.”
Auris nodded rapidly.
He set the bundle from his shoulder on the ground and rummaged through it with frantic hands.
After a moment he found what he was looking for—an ancient book with a slightly damaged cover.
He held it above his head and carefully approached Ignir, then tossed it toward Baelon.
Baelon used his teeth to pull off the reinforced glove on his right hand, then picked up the thick, time-worn book. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
It was heavy, roughly the size of a dictionary, but the pages were yellowed and brittle.
It was clearly a genuine ancient text.
No modern technique could fake that kind of age.
Satisfied the book was real, Baelon carefully opened the volume that now carried all his hope.
Auris said, “The magic you need begins on page one hundred.”
Baelon lifted the book slightly toward him.
“You handed this over so easily. Aren’t you afraid I’ll go back on my word?”
Auris smiled with confidence.
“Your Grace, since I chose to seek your cooperation, I’m willing to trust you. If you ultimately break your word, I’ll simply consider it a bad gamble.”
Baelon turned to page one hundred and read carefully from start to finish.
Then he gave a short laugh.
“My friend, it seems you don’t trust me as much as you claim. The book shows successful cases, the incantation, the ritual, and all the signs that appear during the casting—but the required materials are missing.”
Auris hurried to explain.
“Your Grace, please believe me—this isn’t deliberate concealment. The materials for blood magic are recorded only in my mind, passed down orally from master to apprentice.”
“So you were planning to play games with the materials?”
Auris waved his hands quickly.
“No, no, no—I never thought of that. The process itself is clearly recorded in the book. You can observe every step yourself.”
“On the principle of fairness, I hope that before I cast the blood magic, you’ll give me the Targaryen method of dragon-riding. After the Doom, only your family escaped. Essos no longer has the correct way to bond with dragons. Even if I obtained one, I wouldn’t be able to control it.”
Baelon nodded without hesitation.
“No problem—as long as your blood magic succeeds on me.”
He tossed the ancient book back to Auris and asked, “I remember blood magic always carries a price. I didn’t see anything about it in the book. Not planning to tell me?”
“The Wise Crippled Prince truly lives up to his name,” Auris thought, cold sweat sliding down his temple.
“Ignir. Dragonfire.”
“Wait! Wait!”
Ignir’s jaws, already opening, slowly closed at Baelon’s touch.
A wisp of black smoke curled from the corner of his mouth.
Auris wiped the sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand and spoke quickly.
“Your Grace, I had no intention of hiding it. The price simply isn’t great, and no one has ever cared about it.”
Under Baelon’s increasingly cold stare, Auris rushed on.
“It only consumes a portion of the dragon’s life force—negligible for a dragon of normal size. But your dragon is still small. It might shorten his lifespan… and keep him from growing as large.”
“Of course, if you’re willing to wait, an adult dragon is the ideal subject for the blood magic. The larger the dragon, the smaller the impact—almost none at all. The effect on you would also be stronger.”
Baelon’s brow furrowed as he looked down at Ignir.
By the time Ignir reached adulthood, Baelon would already be old and gray.
What would be the point of standing then?
But to trade Ignir’s lifespan for his own health…
Ignir seemed to sense his rider’s turmoil.
He turned his head and gave a soft, gentle call.
Baelon’s eyes hardened.
He stared straight into Ignir’s crimson gaze and growled, “I refuse.”
“You are my most important partner. I will not let you suffer even the slightest harm—even if I never stand again.”
Targaryens never betrayed their dragons.
No matter the reason.
Perhaps that was one of the reasons House Targaryen had survived the Doom of Valyria.
Auris watched the agitated prince and spoke carefully.
“Your Grace… perhaps I have a way to speed up your dragon’s growth so he can reach adult size much faster.”
Baelon snapped angrily, “He! Not it!”
“What’s the price this time?!”