Baelon had never enjoyed strong health.
His frail body tired easily, and he fell asleep without much effort.
But that night he forced himself to stay awake, watching Auris complete the entire ritual.
Only when dawn was nearly breaking did he finally clutch the vial of Ignir’s blood and drift off.
He still didn’t trust Auris enough to let him stay the night the way Cole did.
Before sleeping, he sent the man out of his room.
The next day, Baelon woke slowly to the sound of raised voices outside.
“What’s all the noise at the door?”
Cole pushed the door open.
“Your Grace, your new attendant just woke up and delayed your breakfast. I was scolding him when he talked back. I came to ask how you’d like him punished.”
Baelon rubbed his bleary eyes.
“That won’t be necessary, Cole. He was working late last night. I gave him permission to sleep in and simply forgot to tell you.”
Auris entered behind Cole, dark circles under his eyes and bloodshot from exhaustion.
The ritual had drained him badly.
He shot Cole a resentful glare.
“Your Grace, I told him you allowed it, but he didn’t believe me!”
Baelon waved a tired hand.
“Auris, go back to your room. You don’t need to show your face until nightfall.”
“Cole, go handle your duties. Stop disturbing my sleep. Just have dinner sent to my room later.”
Auris snorted and left.
Cole lingered.
“Your Grace, I still haven’t gotten a full picture of Dragonstone, but there are already problems inside the castle itself. This place is in chaos. It needs proper governance, and many matters require your guidance.”
Baelon lay back and closed his eyes.
“Cole, haste makes waste. We’ve only just arrived. Everyone here is still wary. This isn’t the time to start ruling with an iron hand.”
“The problems you’re seeing are only the surface ones. The real issues are still hidden in the shadows. Ignore them for now. Let them do as they please. No matter what happens, don’t clash with them and don’t punish anyone.”
“Once the real problems rise to the surface, we’ll deal with them thoroughly. For now, just observe, take notes, and when the time comes, don’t be soft-handed.”
“I need to rest. Wake me for dinner.”
His voice grew quieter until steady breathing filled the room.
Cole looked at the faint crease between Baelon’s brows even in sleep, then quietly left.
“Even after leaving King’s Landing and arguing with the king, Prince Baelon isn’t as calm as he pretends to be.”
By evening Baelon woke on his own, driven by hunger before Cole could come for him.
He grabbed the wooden staff by the bed and rang the copper bell.
The door opened and a pretty young girl with a slight build—one of the servants they had brought from the Red Keep—entered carrying a basin of water.
“Your Grace, I’ve already sent for your meal. Let me wash your face first.”
She helped him sit up and gently wiped his face with a warm cloth.
Baelon felt more awake.
“What time is it?”
“It’s already past the old woman’s hour, Your Grace. Well into the stranger’s hour.”
“Go wake Auris and bring him here.”
The girl nodded and left with the basin.
Soon Auris appeared.
While Baelon ate the egg noodles he had specially requested from the cook, he pointed at the second bowl that contained a “small gift.”
“After we eat, push me around the castle for a bit. Once the hour of ghosts passes, we’ll head to the dragonpit.”
Auris sat nearby, staring at his own bowl.
“I’ve never seen food like this before. Is this what Westerosi nobles eat?”
“Something like that. Fine white flour, eggs, and rich meat broth. It’s not bad.”
“You never had anything similar in Valantis?”
Auris picked up the fork.
“I lived outside the Black Walls. Usually it was gray porridge, hard black bread, and rat skewers.”
Baelon paused, then said meaningfully, “No wonder you risked everything to come to Westeros and offer me blood magic.”
“By the way, how many people are left in your family? You’re a pure-blooded descendant of old Valyria. How did things get so bad?”
Auris put a forkful of noodles in his mouth, chewed carefully, and swallowed before answering.
“The Freehold fell a long time ago. My ancestors were only a branch that left to escape disaster. Surviving at all was already fortunate. House Daeneris can barely even be called a family anymore. There are only me and my two sons left as men. There are more women, though. They get by well enough with their looks and bodies.”
Auris began eating more heartily, head down.
While Baelon silently lamented the tragic fate of Valyria’s scattered descendants, he asked casually, “In your family, who else knows blood magic besides you?”
Auris set the empty bowl down and let out a satisfied breath.
“My sons and I work as free physicians in Valantis. We disguise blood magic as ordinary medicine. They’ve each inherited part of it.”
“But they’re not ready for magic of this level yet. When I return, I’ll focus on teaching them properly while raising the dragon.”
“You might be here for more than ten years. Aren’t you worried something could happen to your sons while you’re gone for so long?”
“They’re skilled physicians and well respected. Before I left, a wealthy merchant had already hired them. There’s nothing to worry about. By the time I return, my grandchildren might even be old enough to marry.”
Auris smiled and his eyes drifted toward Baelon’s half-finished bowl.
Baelon noticed and gently pushed the remaining noodles toward him.
Auris took the bowl without hesitation and began eating.
Watching him devour the food, Baelon felt a small measure of relief.
“Looks like I don’t need to send anyone to Valantis to silence his family after all.”
The dragonpit didn’t need guards.
No one could steal or harm the dragons inside.
Once night fell and no dragonrider needed to mount, the dragonkeepers went to rest.
This was also why Daemon had once been able to approach Vermithor alone.
When Auris pushed Baelon to the heavy doors leading to the dragonmounting platform, the area was completely deserted.
Auris opened the doors, wheeled Baelon to the edge of the platform, then fled as fast as his legs could carry him.
He still carried the mission of reviving his house.
His life still had great value, and he was now only one step away from success.
He had no intention of dying in a dragon’s jaws tonight.
Who knew if the Valyrian blood in his veins would be recognized by a Targaryen dragon?
Baelon watched him run with mild exasperation, feeling his own nerves rise.
Still, he called out into the darkness of the pit in High Valyrian.
“Vermithor! Come forward!”
The sound of heavy stone being crushed under massive weight echoed through the cavern.
The darkness seemed to ripple like water.
Soon Vermithor’s enormous head emerged in front of the platform.
The great bronze dragon opened his jaws and let out a low, irritated growl, revealing sword-like teeth right in front of Baelon.
Baelon’s hand trembled slightly as he poured Ignir’s fresh blood into his right palm.
He forced his voice to stay calm.
“Vermithor. Be calm.”
The massive dragon slowly drew closer, then lifted his head and breathed out a stream of fire that lit up the platform and illuminated Baelon clearly.
In this small human, Vermithor sensed a long-forgotten familiarity—the blood of his old companion.
Baelon raised his voice, firm and commanding.
“Vermithor. Obey!!!”
The great dragon finally closed his jaws.
He moved past Baelon and brought one enormous eye level with the boy, as if trying to see him more clearly.