Viserys and his men dealt with the corpse of the three-headed blood eagle. He collected all the dark red blood-rubies, his hands stained with traces of blood.
The rubies felt warm in his palm, pulsing like liquid blood.
Powered by blood and fire magic, the blood eagle had survived in the ruins of Valyria until Viserys slew it.
Blood magic relied on blood to accelerate breeding and graft flesh, like the work of a mad scientist.
Viserys suspected the Blood Faction's magic involved constant grafting and gene manipulation, creating creatures that were used and discarded.
The hybrid monsters created by bloodmages had no reproductive advantage and were often violent and unstable.
But this didn't matter to the bloodmages; the Valyrians viewed other races as disposable resources and slaves.
And the environment back then was richer, with hairy men, giant eagles, mammoths, giants, direwolves, snow bears, unicorns, and giant serpents to experiment on.
Both Valyria and Gogossos housed Blood Faction laboratories. Who knew how many monsters remained in the ruins?
"It's a dragon!"
"A real dragon!"
A nimble, agile dragon soared beneath the red clouds, like a golden shadow under the scorching sun. The golden light drew closer.
Viserys had felt satisfied with his haul. Though he hadn't found many eggs, the other treasures were rich.
Even if other adventurers made the trip, they would likely find nothing but Face-Worms and fire wights.
This expedition could have ended there, but now came an unexpected joy.
They were exploring only a corner of Valyria, yet they had gained so much.
The most dangerous places were the central ruins—where the dragonlord palaces, council chambers, temples, and secret labs once stood—and the main peaks of the Fourteen Flames, riddled with dragon lairs and mines.
"Stay calm."
"Stay calm. Prepare for combat, but do not attack."
The Unsullied gripped their spears and shields nervously, watching the dragon, the supreme creation of blood and fire, appear above them.
The dragon before Viserys was about twelve feet long, with a wingspan of roughly thirty-six feet.
Its presence was far more terrifying than the three-headed blood eagle.
As it drew closer, the dragon's colors became clear: gold and red, a combination of brilliance and beauty.
Its scales were golden, but its eyes, horns, spinal plates, and wing membranes were a striking, vibrant fire-red.
Occasionally, the exposed scales looked as if they were cast from pure gold.
The dragon's body was sleek and aerodynamic.
Though somewhat lean, it exuded wild ferocity.
Viserys watched the dragon. Gold and red dragons were rare, and this combination was stunning.
Gold dragons were famed for their beauty, red dragons for their speed and aggression.
Sunfyre was the most famous gold dragon, with gleaming golden scales and pale pink wing membranes, like the dawn—hence the name "Sunfyre the Golden."
According to Archmaester Gyldayn, Sunfyre was perhaps the most magnificent and beautiful dragon ever to fly the skies of Westeros or the known world.
After Sunfyre's death, Aegon II tried to hatch seven eggs from Dragonstone, including a purple and gold one, but none stirred.
The most famous red dragons in Targaryen history were Meleys the Red Queen and Caraxes the Blood Wyrm, ridden by Princess Rhaenys "The Queen Who Never Was" and Daemon the Rogue Prince.
In 75 AC, Meleys was called the swiftest dragon in Westeros, easily outpacing Caraxes and Vhagar.
Caraxes was a huge, formidable, and terrifying beast, a veteran of many battles.
The gold-and-red dragon before them promised to be extraordinary.
However, the little dragon was covered in patches of black mud, looking dirty—likely intentional camouflage.
The dragon's wings cracked like thunder as it swept across the sky.
Viserys's attendants were parched with fear, wondering why the dragon had come.
Viserys quickly realized the dragon was interested in the three-headed blood eagle. Both were flying predators, rivals in the food chain.
Viserys signaled his team to keep their distance.
The gold-and-red dragon swept its gaze over them, circling warily. Seeing no aggression, it ignored them.
Spinning gold-and-red flames shot from the sky, engulfing the blood eagle's corpse.
The dragon roared, the sound filling the clearing, a furnace-hot wind sweeping over them.
Dragons, like men, only ate cooked meat.
Viserys watched the dragon land slowly beside the eagle's carcass, its claws tearing into the smoking flesh.
Its eyes burned like magma, its black teeth slicing through the charred meat like swords.
It spewed fire as it ate, devouring the meal ravenously.
"Your Grace, it's a wild dragon. Too dangerous," Aggo and Jalaka warned. "It might be corrupted by blood magic."
"I don't think so. It's a healthy wild dragon," Viserys said boldly, slowly approaching the mud-caked beast.
Viserys had never seen Sunfyre, said to be the most beautiful dragon.
But looking at this dragon of gold and flame, he felt it might be even more beautiful.
The Dragon of Gold and Flame, the lost pearl of the Valyrian ruins.
Viserys looked at the dragon. This was beyond his plan. His mind raced, seeking a way to bond with it.
Compared to hatching fossilized eggs, a live dragon was an opportunity not to be missed.
He thought of a way to connect. Lacking ancestral binding songs, he hummed an ancient Valyrian epic his mother used to sing—a desperate gamble.
The ancestral tune might have some effect. Viserys began to sing.
"Fire, ice, a song of opposing forces.
Towers, valleys, a world where dreams and truth intertwine.
Blood, heartbeats, an epic resonating with blood and fire.
Black dragon, silver dragon, the eternal pact between man and beast.
Valyria fades in dreams, the unreachable homeland.
...
...
...
...
Follow me, friend, partner.
Blood of my blood, fire of my fire.
With my flame, I call your name."
The melody of the Valyrian song was rhythmic, every syllable sincere, carrying ancient power.
Viserys sang, trying to establish a connection.
According to ancient rules, dragons obeyed High Valyrian.
Although few spoke it now, as a scion of House Targaryen, Viserys was fluent—a mark of his Dragonlord heritage.
The gold dragon looked up, eyeing Viserys suspiciously. Aside from suicidal adventurers, it had rarely heard human voices.
And those adventurers had all been eaten by Face-Worms.
This adventurer singing Valyrian songs seemed powerful.
Viserys looked into the dragon's magma-like vertical pupils, captivated by their strange light.
A true dragon.
The dragon looked back—loneliness, vigilance, curiosity, confusion, and even a greedy appraisal of Viserys as potential food flickered in its eyes.
Viserys walked slowly toward the dragon, soothing its mood.
Panic solves nothing. The dragon showed some favor, or at least hadn't attacked immediately.
The dragon watched Viserys, spewing fire occasionally as it gorged on the blood eagle, the smell of burnt meat filling the air.
Dragons had huge appetites; even young ones could eat several times their body weight in cooked meat.
"Are you hungry?" Viserys asked. Sparks flew from his hand, igniting the eagle's flesh further, ensuring it was thoroughly cooked.
"I am like you. I know the dance of fire." Viserys's summoned flames joined the dragonfire.
"In my name, in the name of fire." Viserys approached, wanting to place his hand on the dragon's snout, but the dragon wasn't ready.
It opened its mouth, the gold-red fire in its throat brighter than a hundred torches, like a new sun.
The dragon considered burning Viserys but decided against it, continuing to devour the eagle instead—a tacit acceptance of Viserys's goodwill.
Just as Viserys was making progress, disturbances rippled through the air and ground—the stench of blood magic.
Noise erupted from the sky and the earth.
Not just one three-headed blood eagle, but a mutated griffin bred by the Blood Faction, and other blood-magic monstrosities.
On the ground, emerging from the mist...
Hairy men, transformed into fire wights, riding ancient unicorns.
"Hairy Men," Aggo said.
The Andals had stories of the Hairy Men, whom they had slaughtered in great numbers.
Viserys confirmed they were the ancient Hairy Men—warlike savages said to ride unicorns into battle.
These brutes were larger, taller, and broader than the Ibbenese.
Legend said Hhumazzoh, ancestor of Taggat Fen, wore the pelt of a Hairy Man as a cloak to prove his heroism.
"Stop eating, partner. If we kill these monsters, there will be even more for you to eat."
The gold dragon looked up, staring straight at Viserys, torn between finishing its meal and fleeing.