Jon had not expected this dramatic undertone but he did not mind. He took a deep breath as he prepared himself to hand the blood essence to Melisandre.
The next instant, a drop of blood, his blood essence, appeared at the tip of Jon's index finger, and he pressed it against Melisandre's forehead.
Melisandre was not sure what she had been expecting when Lord Aeos had mentioned about confirming the loyalty, but a blood drop invading her forehead was certainly not one of the things she had imagined.
Yet she did not resist. It was nothing too shocking for her. She had seen many things in her few centuries old life. Things she could not even begin to describe and compared to them, a drop of blood seeping through her forehead was almost normal.
She felt the blood being absorbed into her skin, then spreading through her entire body. It took only a few moments for the effect to begin.
A burning sensation surged through her entire body, and sheer pain flooded inside her. And along with that pain came a burning sensation.
The pain was so intense that every muscle of her tightened. The burning sensation made her feel as if she were being consumed by fire inside out. Every inch of her body was in agony and was heating up.
The next moment, the necklace, the magical necklace that she wore around her neck and had given her this youthful appearance cracked apart and fell on the ground. Her true aged form was revealed and she was nothing more than a skeletal structure with skins wrapped around it. But she was too lost in agony to care.
With each passing heartbeat the pain intensified, yet she did not scream. Whatever this was, she believed it to be a gift from her Azor Ahai, and she would not disrespect him by crying out.
The torment lasted only moments, but to her it felt like an eternity. She bore it in silence, jaw clenched, body trembling.
Then the feeling changed. The burning receded, replaced by an overwhelming sensation of pleasure. She felt her body reforming. Her bones, her skin, everything. It was similar to the effect of the necklace, but this time on a far greater scale.
The necklace she had once worn was an ancient artifact. She had never known its true origin, though she believed it a blessing from the Red God. Only two such necklaces existed within the order of the Red Priestesses. One had been hers, and the other was worn by the High Priestess herself. The artifact had worked by pumping what they called the essence of magic into her body, granting her youth and keeping her alive despite her natural body being long past its limit.
And now, she felt that same essence flooding her directly. It was as if her aging was being undone from within. Her bones regained their strength, her skin returned to its former lustre, and slowly, her youthful appearance was restored not by an artifact this time, but by her own body being remade.
The process continued for a few more moments when she felt another overwhelming sensation surging from within her body, and she instinctively raised both her hands. The sensation finally manifested as two burning balls of fire flaring to life in her palms.
It was a strange feeling. She had wielded fire magic before, but this time it was different. Stronger, sharper, and infused with a purity she had never known.
Her old fire had always been the result of a blend, a small measure of magic, and a much greater dependence on blood rituals. That was why she had always hesitated to use it. But this fire was different. This was pure essence. Pure magic.
It was powerful, and she felt no fear that using some of it would drain her completely. Her reserves would refill quickly, naturally. Unlike the blood rituals, which demanded elaborate and complex rites and, obviously, some blood sacrifices, this essence renewed itself within her, as if it were part of her very being.
Jon's eyes lingered on the flames in Melisandre's palms, scrutinizing them with a sharp curiosity. Compared to what he wielded, and what Slyvia had inherited, these flames were different. Subtly, yet unmistakably so. These were not exactly the same.
Slyvia's fire was a mirror of his own, the same essence, the same structure, only weaker in potency. But Melisandre's… hers burned differently. Though they were still weaker than what Jon wielded the nature of her flame was slightly different. Wilder. Fiercer. It carried a destructive edge, raw and untamed, as if the fire itself longed to consume. It lacked the calmness of the Jon's flame.
Jon narrowed his eyes in thought. The explanation seemed clear. Melisandre had already commanded fire long before his blood touched her. Her own magic must have fused with his essence, reshaping it into something new.
That realization pulled Jon's mind into darker waters. If Slyvia, who was an empty vessel, had inherited a perfect reflection of his power, then what of Rhaenys? She carried Targaryen blood already.
When her powers awakened, would the Stark within her pale before the Targaryen? Although he had not awakened the power of the Stark bloodline, he was almost certain of something like this happening in the future whenever he awakened his power. The thought lingered heavily in Jon's mind.
"My lord," Melisandre's voice snapped Jon out of his daze. "What is all this?"
Her eyes were still fixed on the flames dancing in her palm.
"And this flame? My youth? This magic?" She spoke quickly, her voice a mix of wonder and confusion.
Jon met her gaze calmly.
"My Targaryen lineage," he replied. "As for your youth, I believe, your body absorbed my blood essence, and the magic within it restored you."
He himself was not confident of the reason but this was the best he could think of now. He let his eyes drift briefly to the broken pieces of her necklace lying on the floor.
"From now on, you will age normally. And that necklace, it seems, you would not be able to use it again."
"And how could you share your lineage with me?" She questioned. She could feel that the necklace had been destroyed. Perhaps, the power stored in it had been too absorbed by her body.
"Say it is one of the powers I was born with," Jon answered, his tone even, offering no more than that.
She wanted to press further, but held herself back. Azor Ahai wielding such powers was no contradiction in her eyes. It was only fitting of his status and what he was meant to achieve.
"Send Rhaenys in," Jon said firmly. "And do not tell her what to expect."
Melisandre nodded obediently and turned to leave, the fire in her hands slowly fading as she stepped out of the chamber.
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