"Can you give me an early prediction of the Wall''s situation?" Viserys asked the three-eyed raven.
"Yes," the three-eyed raven replied. "I can also predict the general situation for you after the Wall copses."
"I''ll show you what it will be like after the Wall copses."
"Yes."
It seemed the three-eyed raven had indeed grown much weaker. It could no longer pull people into its visions at will, as it once had. At least, not Viserysit required his active cooperation.
After epting the raven''s suggestion, Viserys''s eyes were filled with a vision of the Great Wall from a "45-degree angle from above." The Great Wall, which had stood for 8,000 years against the wind and snow, appeared to tremble. Large and small chunks of ice and snow broke away, tumbling down the Wall. Eventually, the ck core beneath the ice was revealeda dark surface reminiscent of the colors of Winterfell and Castle ck.
The height of the Wall''s ck foundation was uneven, varying in different ces. As Viserys had previously predicted, the Wall had been constructed atop mountains. It blocked the passes between these peaks, making even the gentler slopes steeper and more treacherous.
Suddenly, the ck wall began to copse backward. It looked as though a million giants were pushing it from behind. The structure crumbled into countless fragments, sliding down into rubble and exposing dozens of wide gaps. The once-steep, impregnable wall had turned into a rtively gentle inclineno ce that 10,000 men could hope to defend.
A momentter, the vision faded, and the Wall stood tall once more before Viserys.
The Night King will surely invade through those gaps, Viserys thought.
By then, I''ll have nted as manyndmines as possible to destroy the undead hordes. And with all the cannons I''ve prepared, if the Night King wants toe south so badly, I''ll greet him with a barrage of heavy artillery!
The three-eyed raven had previously mentioned that the Night King sought to negotiate. However, Viserys knew he couldn''t approach this matter recklessly. He decided to consult with the Lord Commander of the Night''s Watch, Ned. As emperor, he had much at stake and could no longer act on impulse as he once had.
Soon, Ned arrived with arge group of people. Alongside him was Sam, who had led a fleet to deliver over 500,000 explosive charges. These were now securely stored in the Night''s Watch warehouse, ready for deployment.
Viserys and the others walked and talked, deliberating on their next steps.
"Your Grace," Ned began, "I believe that since the Night King has been dormant for 8,000 years, none of his conditions can be trusted. Even these negotiations could be a ploy to gather more strength."
"You''re right," Viserys agreed. "I won''t agree to any of his conditions during this negotiation. My sole aim is to learn more about the Night King and find a way to kill him."
The group nodded, acknowledging the soundness of Viserys''s approach.
Sam interjected, "Your Grace, since the Icespears of the Icebone Towers have a range of 600 feet, we should only allow their representatives toe forward. You must not leave the Wall yourself."
"Of course," Viserys replied.
Sam exhaled in relief. He had prepared an entire argument to convince the emperor, but it seemed unnecessary.
After the group returned to Castle ck, a Night''s Watch guard arrived with a report: several wights had appeared in front of the gates.
A chill ran through the officers andmanders of the Night''s Watch. Many of them turned to look at Viserys.
It seems the Night King has decided on the terms of the negotiations. Let them in, Viserys said calmly.
Ned nodded and issued his orders with authority.
Gendry, go bring in the walkers. Ensure all the Night''s Watch are on high alert. Jaime Lannister, you lead a group and keep a close watch on them. Dont let them out of your sight.
Yes, my lord! Jaime responded promptly.
Nedsmands carried unquestioned authority, and the Nights Watch moved with precision. Every man stood at the ready, their eyes sharp with vignce. At Viserys suggestion, a smaller door had been added to the main gate for situations just like this.
Gendry approached the darkened entryway and opened the small door. A faint shaft of light broke through, illuminating the scene beyond. Peering out, he saw five figures standing roughly 100 meters away.
Five wightsall former Night''s Watchmen.
Their glowing blue eyes pierced the dim light like eerienterns. Gendrys heart pounded as he strained to keep hisposure. Behind them, he could make out the sprawling mass of the undead army stretching into the horizon, dotted with the ominous silhouettes of countless Icebone Towers.
Swallowing hard, Gendry cleared his throat and called out hoarsely, Enter
His voice cracked under the weight of his nerves. Steeling himself, he shouted again, louder this time, Enter!
To his surprise, the wights seemed to understand. They began to move forward, their steps slow but deliberate. As they drew nearer, Gendrys eyes focused on their frost-covered faces. It wasnt just the appearance of frostit was real. Thinyers of ice coated their pale, lifeless skin, gleaming faintly in the dim light.
With each step the wights took, the mes of Gendrys torch sputtered, shrinking as though retreating from their presence. He instinctively stepped back, and behind him, the Nights Watch soldiers closed ranks, their obsidian spears bristling in readiness.
The wights nced at the spears with what could only be described as disdain.
Jaime Lannister shadowed them closely, his sword at the ready. The obsidian spears of the Night''s Watch never wavered, staying trained on the wights as they entered Castle ck.
The castle itself was in a state of heightened alert. Armed Nights Watchmen lined the walls, their weapons gleaming in the cold air. As the wights advanced deeper into the stronghold, they passed rank after rank of soldiers, each one standing tense and ready for battle.
After what felt like an eternity, the wights were brought before Viserys and his advisors. The emperor regarded them with a cool detachment, his mind already working through the implications.
The Night King can enter any corpse or White Walker at will, Viserys thought, observing the wights.
Its simr to how the three-eyed raven can move through the Weirwoods. This level of control allows him to carry out intricate maniptions.
Old Jeor Mormont, standing behind Viserys, stiffened as he recognized one of the wights. It was Waymar Royce, a former ranger of the Night''s Watch. Though Jeor had long epted that Waymar was dead, seeing him now, reanimated and lifeless, sent a pang through his chest.
The other veterans of the Night''s Watch standing nearby shared his reaction. Each of them had held significant roles within the Watch for years, and they were all seasoned enough to stand at Viserys side. But as their eyes fell on the once-familiar face of Waymar, now twisted into something monstrous, a heaviness settled over them.
The Night Kings choice to send former brothers of the Nights Watch was not a coincidence. It was calcted. He wasnt some mindless beast; he was cunning. By sending the reanimated Watchmen, he sought to sow unease and disgust among the defenders. This tactic was meant to unnerve the Nights Watch, not the free folk, whose bonds to these men were far weaker.
Viser...
The wight that had once been Waymar Royce, now a puppet of the Night King, began to speak. Before the words could fully form, Viserys reacted with lightning speed. A dagger left his hand, striking the wight squarely in the face. Its glowing blue eyes instantly dimmed as its body crumpled lifelessly to the ground.
The crowd stood stunned, confusion etched on their faces.
Wasnt this supposed to be a negotiation?
Ned, Jaime, and the others exchanged uncertain nces, unsure of how to respond. The three-eyed raven perched on the wall nearby remained silent, its feathers stirring lightly in the breeze but offering nomentary.
Before anyone could voice their questions, Viserys drew his sword. Without hesitation, he struck down three of the remaining ghouls in rapid session. Only one was left, which he knocked to the ground with a forceful blow. Pinning the dead to the earth with his boot on its chest, he held his swords tip against its throat.
I know you came here to negotiate, Viserys said coldly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. But I couldnt help myself. Consider these wights your ticket to see me. Send a few more, and well talk again.
With that, he swung his de and severed the deads head in one decisive motion.
The tension in the air eased visibly as Old Bear Jeor Mormont and the Nights Watch observed the scene. The unease they had felt seeing their former brothers turned into abominations was reced by a grim satisfaction. They felt
relieved.
It doesnt matter whether these creatures are ruthless or polite, Viserys addressed them, his voice resonating with conviction. They are not like us. They want us all dead. No matter the means, kill every single one you can! Do you understand?
Yes, Your Grace!
The Nights Watch shouted their response in unison, their confidence bolstered by Viserys actions.
Not long after, the Night King sent a second wave of wights. Again, five arrived at the gates. Viserys met them with the same ruthless efficiency, smiling as he dispatched each one.
For the third wave, the Night King sent only three. Once more, Viserys eliminated them without hesitation.
By the fourth wave, only a single wight approached the gates. Viserys paused. He knew that if he killed this one, the Night King might deem further negotiations impossible. Lowering his weapon slightly, Viserys signaled for the Night King, who was controlling the wight, to speak.
Chapter 412: Viserys: I Have an 8 AM Commitment!
Chapter 412: Viserys: I Have an 8 AM Commitment!
As the Night King spoke, Viserys immediately realized the futility of the day''s negotiations. Yet, this was exactly what he wantedto crush any remaining illusions and force everyone to understand that the rtionship between humans and White Walkers was one of absolute opposition: survival or annihtion.
If you are willing to give up the North, we can guarantee not to attack for ten years. If you are willing to give up all of Westeros, I can guarantee not to attack for thirty years, the Night King dered coldly.
Shameless beast!
Damnable monster!
Who do you think you are!
The Nights Watch erupted in fury. To concede without fighting would be a betrayal of everything they stood for, a negation of their very purpose. No one believed for a moment that Viserys would ept such conditions.
Viserys, who had been scheming against the Night King long before Robert Baratheons death, responded with a sneer.
The explosives we used before? Those were just a warm-up. Ive brought another million charges to the Wall. His tone was sharp, mocking. How about this? You send me 100 White Walkers every day for me to kill, and Ill refrain from bombing you for one day.
The Night Kings glowing blue eyes flickered faintly in silence.
And if you dont agree to this condition, Viserys continued, I have another n.
The Night Kings voice carried no inflection, calm and devoid of any traceable emotion. If you refuse this offer, we will proceed with our own ns.
Before Viserys could retort, Tormund Giantsbane, the self-proimed "
Giantsbane," interjected.
We wont ept any of your damn ns! Ill personally carry the explosive packs and blow your icy asses to kingdome!
Yes! Blow you to kingdome!
Blow you to pieces!
The Free Folk leaders bold promation stirred the crowd, earning cheers from others who shared his defiance. Tormund, having seen firsthand the devastating power of the explosive charges, had already resolved how he wanted to face deathwith fiery, heroic destruction. Many of the older Free Folk, too, had decided they would sacrifice themselves for the younger generation.
The Nights Watch echoed this sentiment, though not all of them dreamed of strapping explosives to their backs. Regardless, they all agreed on one thing: surrender was not an option.
Over the years, Viserys had drastically improved their circumstances. From better cold-weather gear to more effective weapons, enhanced living conditions to renewed morale, the Nights Watch had been transformed under his leadership. They unanimously believed that without Viserys reiming the Iron Throne, their lives would have been far bleaker.
Still, Viserys was unbothered by the outbursts. His sword was already unsheathed, ready to sever the puppets head as soon as the Night King finished.
Go on, he said with a smirk. Let me hear what other nonsense youve got to say.
The Night Kings reply was as chilling as the icy wind that suddenly swept through Castle ck, snuffing out the torches. mes that had burned bright moments before were reduced to faintly glowing embers.
Send me a Targaryen child every year, the Night King said, his voice steady and emotionless, and I will guarantee one year of peace.
The weight of his demand froze the air further, thickening the tension. Viserys didnt flinch, but the atmosphere among the assembled men shifted uneasily.
The audacity of the Night Kings proposal stunned some, and though outrage burned brightly in many hearts, there were those whose thoughts briefly faltered. The promise of peace, even at such a terrible price, was not without its allure to the faint of heart.
Ill be up at eight in the morning!
Viseryss voice thundered in his mind as images shed before his eyesthe young, innocent faces of his children and those he hade to care for: Victoria, Willemrys, Duncan, Elizabeth (Shinellis second daughter), Heidi (Shinellis youngest), and Sansas triplets. Hali and Hermine, whom he had only recently grown close to.
A surge of violent rage erupted from his chest, surging past his throat and pounding in his skull as though it would burst. This was the rage of a fathera primal, protective fury that demanded action.
The Night Kings demand weighed on him. epting it would strengthen his position with some, but rejecting it could create distance between him and the nobles of Westeros, even if they despised the Night King. Yet, Viserys believed no one would be swayed by such terms. The Night Kings credibility among the living was nonexistent.
Jaime was the first to notice the change in Viseryss expression. Without hesitation, he snatched a spear from a nearby guard and drove it through the chest of the wight puppet.
A monster who speaks such nonsense deserves to die! Jaime dered, his voice ringing with righteous fury.
Viserys turned to Jaime, their eyes locking for a moment of understanding. Jaimes decision was bold, but it stemmed from his gratitude toward Viserys. After Joffrey and Tommen fled Westeros, Viserys had arranged for them and other Lannisters seeking refuge to be sent to the Free Cities. Jaimes trust and loyalty had deepened ever since.
Ned quickly leaned in to whisper, Your Grace, rest assured that the content of todays negotiations with the Night King will never leave this room.
No, Viserys replied, his voice calm but firm. It will.
The crowd turned their attention to him, startled. Viseryss gaze swept over them as he spoke.
Do you know why the Night King wants Targaryen children? he asked, his voice sharp andmanding. I will tell you. These monsters can turn children with noble blood into powerful White Walkers. Targaryen children would buy a year of peace. Stark children, perhaps three months. As for other noble childrenmaybe a month, or even just a few days. But I ask youwould
you trade your children for peace?
No!
No!
No!
The surrounding Nights Watch erupted in anger, their voices a unified roar of defiance.
Very well! Viserys eximed, his anger burning brightly. It seems none of us are cowards. We are human beingsnot chickensying eggs for the Night King!
His words rallied the room, their collective spirit ignited by his unyielding resolve.
Sam!
Your Grace!
Sam stepped forward, his expressionposed but watchful. He had been paying close attention to the crowd, gauging their reactions. No longer the timid, plump boy of old, Sam had grown into a sturdy and reliable man, his burly frame carrying an air of confidence.
Viserys and Jon Connington had been grooming Sam for greater responsibilities, preparing him to be the next Hand of the King. Sam understood the weight of this moment and would never allow anyone to ckmail or coerce Viserys into surrendering.
"Prepare some explosive packs for me. I want to blow them all up!"
"Yes, my lord!"
The Night''s Watch had boarded the Wall.
Thest time Viserys bombed the enemy, they were still a fair distance away. This time, however, the Night King and his army of wights were so close that they could witness the might of the dragon bombers firsthand.
From morning till night, Viserys rode the Yellow Dragon, relentlessly bombing the White Walker positions for two consecutive days and nights. A staggering 70,000 to 80,000 explosive packs were deployed, leaving both Viserys and the dragon noticeably fatigued. Rest was imperative before they could continue.
The results, however, were undeniable. A conservative estimate suggested that at least 10,000 White Walkers and wights had been annihted, along with the destruction of over 300 Icebone Towers. The air was heavy with the stench of sulfur and charred flesh, and mes burned fiercely even in front of the Wall. The once-biting cold had been subdued by the heat of battle.
The morale of the Night''s Watch soared.
"Just one dragon can wreak this much havoc! Your Grace has seven dragons in total. It wont be long before they obliterate all these monsters!"
"Yes, we just need to follow the dragons and take care of the crippled wights and White Walkers. This is easier than fighting the living!"
Some even began to jest, their spirits lifted by the destruction.
But their reprieve was short-lived.
The Night Kingunched a counterattack. The shattered remnants of the Icebone Towers began to twitch. From these ruins, a chilling mist began to seep, extinguishing the fires ignited by the explosive charges. The dismembered wights crawled toward the remnants of the Icebone Towers, using their bodies to repair the damaged structures.
What was more horrifying, some of the Icebone Towers began to move.
In the areas Viserys had just bombarded, wights dragged themselves toward the Towers. The broken Towers shifted toward the more intact ones, while smaller fragments merged withrger pieces. Soon, an enormous Icebone Towernearly 300 feet tallemerged from the chaotic assemge of limbs and fragments.
This towering structure climbed atop a small hill, its height now rivaling the Great Wall itself.
The Night Watchmen and Freefolk soldiers, who had been jesting moments ago, fell into a stunned silence.
Atop the colossal Tower, a massive spear of ice and bone began to take form. Its exposed portion was already eight or nine meters long, but its full length likely exceeded ten meters. A single strike from it would spell certain doom for the Yellow Dragon, whose length was only about 20 meters.
The spear rose ominously, its intent clear: to bring down Viserys and his dragon.
Viserys, sensing the threat, felt every hair on his body stand on end as the colossal weapon locked onto him.
"Retreat! We''ll be safe behind the Great Wall!"
This was the only thought racing through his mind.
Moments earlier, he had considered calling Hali and Hermine to join him so they could experience the thrill of piloting a dragon bomber. Now, that idea seemed absurd and far removed from reality.
A piercing, shrill sound tore through the air, mingling with the howling winda cry that seemed to emanate from the depths of the soul.
Viserys urged the Yellow Dragon upward, climbing higher and higher into the sky. But the ice-spear moved with terrifying speed, far outpacing the dragon''s flight.
On the Wall, Ned and the others could only hear the harrowing screech. The events in the sky were obscured from their view, but the sound alone filled them with dread. It carried like the wail of a tormented ghost, chilling and unrelenting.
Viserys realized, with growing horror, that the spear was tracking him.
It''s like a missile, he thought grimly.
But who was the targethimself or the dragon?
Turning his head, he saw the ice-spear angling to strike both him and the Yellow Dragon in a single devastating blow. The massive weapon closed the distance rapidly, leaving no time to maneuver or escape.
In that fleeting moment, rity struck Viserys.
If he jumped off the dragon''s back, both he and the dragon might survive.
Without hesitation, he stood and leaped, pushing off the dragons back with all his strength.
In midair, man and dragon separated, forming a triangle with the oing spear.
The ice-spear adjusted its trajectory, homing in on Viserys.
Far below, the Night King smirked. Even if he couldn''t kill Viserys outright, the injury would surely be catastrophic.
Chapter 413: Hope Against the Icebone Towers
Chapter 413: Hope Against the Icebone Towers
Viserys saw the ice and bone spear hurtling toward him, its form menacing in its sheer sizeover ten meters long and as thick as an adult''s thigh. He could already envision the gruesome scene if it struck him: his body skewered like meat on a barbecue spit.
Acting on instinct, Viserys reached out and grabbed the deadly spear mid-air. His grip stopped it from piercing him, but the force propelled him upward, suspending him in the sky. The weapon seemed almost alive, as if realizing it couldnt harm him mid-air. It twisted sharply and angled itself to drive him into the ground.
Just as the spear lunged again, a massive, sulfur-scented maw snapped forward, the Yellow Dragon, had seen Viserys struggling with the spear and rushed to assist. In one decisive bite, the dragon crushed the spear, splitting it cleanly in two.
You are worthy of being my eldest son! Viserys eximed, both relieved and impressed.
Using the dragon''s swinging tail, Viserys deftly climbed back onto its back. His daring maneuver had not only saved his life but also exposed one of the Night Kings powerful but limited weaponsthe Tracking Icebone Spear. Viserys noted with satisfaction that the Icebone Tower from which the spear had beenunched had copsedpletely.
Meanwhile, the Night King, expression inscrutable, turned and retreated to his throne room beneath the remnants of the Icebone Tower.
Back at the Wall, the Night''s Watch erupted into cheers, celebrating the safe return of Viserys and his dragon. Once theynded, Viserys gave Ned Stark detailed instructions.
"The Wall''s copse has left key passes exposed. Fortify them in advance," Viserysmanded. "When Robb arrives, position defenses directly at these vulnerable points. Ive stored plenty of explosive packsdont hesitate to use them."
Yes, Your Grace, Ned replied with quiet resolve.
Their conversation was brief. At the Wall, the two men spoke privately for a time before Ned personally escorted Viserys back to the Yellow Dragon.
Oh, by the way, Viserys added before mounting the dragon, Sansa and the three children are all in good health.
Ned''s stony demeanor softened slightly, his lips twitching in what might have been a smile. News of Sansas pregnancy had filled him and Catelyn with joy, but the revtion that she was carrying triplets had caused them great concern. Triplet pregnancies were perilous, and both parents had been on edge since hearing the news. Catelyn had even traveled to Kings Landing to be with Sansa during this critical time.
Now, hearing that his daughter and grandchildren were healthy, Ned finally allowed himself a moment of relief.
Viserys had to return to Kings Landing as well. There was much to address. He needed to check on the progress the Benerro faction was making with the Dragonbone he had supplied, and he had yet to visit Sansa and her newborn triplets. A thriving royal family symbolized stability and hope for the realm.
With ten children of his own, Viserys understood the impact of this symbolism. Each child represented strength and continuity in the fight against the White Walkers.
On his return journey, Viserys did not bring Hali and Hermine with him. The Great Migration of the North was far fromplete, and the two dragonlords were tasked with helping guide the scattered remnants of Northern vigers. The three reunited at the Dreadfort, the seat of House Bolton, a ce now honored by the simultaneous presence of three dragonlords.
Not all Northerners had joined the migration south. While Robb Starks army continued its advance, some families had resolved to stay behind, defending their castles to the bitter end. Their sacrifice would buy precious time, dying the Night Kings inevitable march.
Dont worry, Father, well be fine! Hali said with conviction, her voice steady despite the cold.
Viserys reached out, gently touching her reddened cheeks, which had been chilled by the biting wind. He used blood magic to restore her skin to its normal warmth, watching the color return to her face.
He couldnt help but reflect on the future. The days of absolute monarchy for House Targaryen were likely behind them. When everyone had a dragon, the dynamics of power would change dramatically. The Dragon Riders , with their unmatched strength and independence, were more like superhumans than subjects. If conflicts arose, they could simply fly off, untethered to the constraints of the realm.
Such a reality raised a troubling thought: a repeat of the Dance of the Dragons, the devastating civil war that once tore their house apart. To prevent such chaos, it would be better to embrace shared leadershiprule as a team rather than a single autocrat.
Hali and Hermine, still young but already showing potential, had an opportunity to build goodwill during this great migration. Their age and burgeoning poprity could serve as a counterbnce to Willem in the future, should rivalries emerge.
s, Im thinking too far ahead, Viserys mused, shaking off the thought.
He offered his daughters a few parting words of advice, carefully inspected their parachutes to ensure they were in perfect condition, and then departed for Kings Landing.
...
The Dragonpit, nestled in the Hill of Rhaenys, had once housed the Targaryen dragons.
After the extinction of the dragons, it had fallen into disuse, sealed off and forgotten. Over time, it became a haven for thieves, vagrants, and wandering priests.
Under Viseryss reconstruction of Kings Landing, however, the Dragonpit had been revived. Order had returned to the city, and the pit was now a bustling hub where Benerro and a cohort of red priests conducted their experiments.
The space was unrecognizable from its neglected past. Brightly lit and oppressively hot, it buzzed with activity. Dozens of red priests worked alongside hundreds of craftsmen and clerks. Craftsmen feverishly melted gold into intricate shapes, while clerks meticulously copied runic symbols onto parchment. Around them, thousands of workers toiled, transforming the pit into a sprawling factory.
The heat inside the Dragonpit was so intense that weeds had sprouted at its entrancea surreal sight given the snow-covered streets of Kings Landing.
Amid the chaos, Benerro stood beside Dany, exining theirtest findings. A massive dragon skull, roughly the size of a carriage, loomed nearby. Its dark surface was etched with glowing golden runes, lending it an eerie and majestic aura.
Your Grace, Benerro began, his tone reverent yet matter-of-fact, Dragonbone possesses a significant amplification effect on fire magic. However, the range of this amplification is limited. The effect is most pronounced when casting magic directly within or around the Dragonbone itselfsuch as inside this skull.
He gestured toward the massive skull.
Through our experiments, weve discovered that by inscribing these runes, we can extend the range of amplification to approximately 30 meters.
Dany, intrigued, rose from her seat and moved about 20 to 30 meters away from the skull. She raised her hand, palm outstretched, and a miniature fire dragon emerged, dancing vividly in the air above her palm. Its lifelike movements were mesmerizing, its scales shimmering with detail.
She could feel the difference immediately. The amplification effect was palpable, her fire magic noticeably enhanced. Even at this distance, the air around the skull was sweltering, radiating an extraordinary heat.
Your Grace told me that the Night King''s Icebone Tower can create low temperatures within a radius of thousands of meters. What we are doing is still not enough. Is there any way to make its radiation range wider?
Danys question was direct, her gaze sharp as it locked onto Benerro.
The red priest stroked his me-shaped chin tattoo as he replied, In the Valyrian texts weve studied, there are references to magical weapons forged with Dragonbone that could influence areas spanning thousands of meters. However, the specific runes and structural designs for such weapons have been lost over the centuries. If we could study one of the Night Kings Icebone Towers directly, examining its construction, we might be able to replicate or counteract its effects.
Dany nodded slowly, considering the monumental challenge ahead. Capturing an Icebone Tower would require precise nning and mighte at an unthinkable cost.
As she mulled over the matter, her cupbearer, Lyman Darry, arrived with news. Your Grace, King Viserys has returned to Kings Landing.
Viserys didnt make a grand entrance into the Dragonpit. Instead, he approached Benerro quietly, his presence understated butmanding. After being briefed, he quickly grasped the essence of their progress.
In other words, you need an Icebone Tower as a reference, and even then, theres no guarantee you can create a magic weapon of equivalent power, Viserys said.
Benerro hesitated, the me tattoo on his chin shifting slightly, but before he could respond, Viserys continued. Thats fine. This line of inquiry still represents our best hope. I will find a way to get you what you need.
Relief washed over Benerros face. Viseryss pragmatic yet determined approach gave him confidence.
After confirming the Dragonpits progress, Viserys left with Dany, returning to King''s Landing.
...
Reinforcements from the South have already set out, Dany reported as they walked. Theyre expected to gather at Harrenhal within two months.
Fighting the White Walkers and enduring the Long Night was not just the responsibility of the North or the royal family. Every corner of the realm needed to contribute. However, logistical constraints made it impractical to send massive armies all at once.
Viserys had opted for a more strategic approach: assembling an elite force of 30,000 troops drawn from the best soldiers across Westeros.
Among them, 25,000 were cavalry, each equipped with three horses to ensure stamina and speed. Every soldier carried two finely crafted Myrish crossbows, and their armor was lined with silk for enhanced protection and warmth.
To support these troops, an enormous logistical effort was underway. A staggering 100,000 civilianborers and 300,000 mule and horse handlers had been mobilized to transport supplies. Large-scale projectile devices were also being prepared for deployment to the front lines.
After hearing the details, Viserys nodded in approval. He ced a hand gently on Danys slightly swollen abdomen. How have you been feelingtely?
Danys cheeks flushed, a warm color rising to her ears. Im fine, theres no problem, she replied softly.
But as Viseryss hand lingered, a sudden warmth spread from where he touched her, radiating through her body. Her expression shifted as she realized what he was doing.
Brother, youre using blood magic again, she chided gently, cing her hand over his to stop him. You dont need to do that.
Dany knew blood magic wellMelisandre had once exined its principles and its cost. She had also witnessed Viserys use shadow magic in the past to confront the Night King. Afterward, he had appeared drained, only to recover remarkably quickly. It was an anomaly she couldnt fully understand, but it worried her.
She recognized that the warmth flowing through her now was a transfer of vitality from Viserys to herself and the child she carried. She hated the thought of him sacrificing his strength, even if he imed it didnt harm him.
Dont worry, Dany, Viserys reassured her with a calm smile. I have a unique understanding of blood magic. What is costly for others is negligible for me. As long as you and our child are healthy, thats all that matters.
Dany studied him closely, looking for any hint of deception, but found none. Reluctantly, she epted his exnation.
As the moment passed, a more personal question surfaced in her mind. By the way, brother, she began, her tone shifting, when are you going to resolve things with Malora?
Chapter 414: An Esper Was Born
Chapter 414: An Esper Was Born
Malora, often called the old maid of House Hightower, was known for her obsession with magic. In one of her experiments, something went disastrously wrong, leaving her head inexplicably fused to a table. Faced with this bizarre predicament, House Hightower had no choice but to seek assistance from the royal family, offering three dragon eggs as payment.
The transaction set significant events in motion. Duncan, the son of Little Rose, received one dragon egg. Dany retained the remaining two andter ced them in the cradles of Sansas two sons. As the saying goes,
you get what you pay for. Yet, the origins of the dragon eggs were questionableacquired, perhaps, through less-than-honorable means from the Targaryens. However, Viserys chose not to dwell on this murky history. The eggs were back in Targaryen hands, and that was what mattered.
Viserys decided he should personally inspect the dragon eggs and any magic being studied at the Hightower. He was eager to uncover anything that could serve as a weapon against the White Walkers. However, Danys suggestion that he visit Sansas baby first presented an unexpected dilemma. He found his thoughts clouded by an external influencea weak but palpable force that subtly bent his will. Though he could resist, the suggestion grew morepelling.
In the end, Viserys resolved the conflict within himself. "Lets go today," he said. "Ill visit Sansas baby first and then head to Oldtown."
"Okay," Dany agreed.
Together, they made their way to Sansas chambers, where Catelyn was soothing her granddaughter, Rhaelle. The baby girl, with her reddish-brown hair and striking purple eyes, bore a strong resemnce to her mother and grandmother. Yet, unlike her silver-haired brothers, she cried much more often.
The two baby boys were sound asleep in another room, clutching the dragon eggs ced in their cradle by Dany. Sansa, sitting nearby, looked on with a tired, worried expression. She was deeply concerned about Rhaelles frailty, fearing the child might not survive long.
This child is so pitiful. May the Seven bless her and let her grow up safely, Sansa murmured, tears streaming down her face. Motherhood had made her emotions raw and intense.
At that moment, Viserys and Dany entered the room. Catelyn moved to bow, but Viserys stopped her. He gently took Rhaelle into his arms. Miraculously, the baby stopped crying immediately and drifted into a peaceful sleep.
The sight brought relief and joy to everyone present. Childrens emotions are pure, and Rhaelles reaction seemed to forge a bond with her father, deepening his affection for her. Viserys gazed at the baby with a rare tenderness. Then, he noticed something startlingthe external force that had been manipting his thoughts earlier had vanished.
He nced at the now-sleeping Rhaelle, his mind racing. Was that her magic?
Shes given birth to a Esper, Viserys muttered under his breath, concern flickering across his face. The term referred to individuals with powerful mental abilities, capable of influencing others thoughts and emotions.
Rhaelles nascent power troubled him. Though it posed no threat to him now, her abilities could grow formidable with age. For the moment, her desires were simplea need for care andfort. But in the future, managing her could be a challenge.
As Viserys held her, he noticed how exhausted she seemed. The effort of wielding her power had drained herpletely, and she remained sound asleep, a faint smile curling her lips and she appeared content at the moment.
Viserys allowed himself a fleeting, optimistic thought: Perhaps in the future, Rhaelle''s power might even influence the Night King,pelling him to end his own existence. For now, however, he chose to set the matter aside. He gently sat by Sansas bedside, offering her a warm smile.
Youve worked hard, Sansa, he said softly.
Sansa shook her head, but her emotions overcame her. Tears welled up, and without thinking, she buried her face in Viserys shoulder, herposure momentarily slipping. Her gesture was abrupt, almost rude, but Viserys didnt pull away. He simply allowed her thefort she sought.
Since the end of the War of the Restoration, Sansas family hade to Kings Landing. However, she was the only one left to remain at the Red Keep. Her time there had left scarsfear and trauma that lingered long after her experiences in the castles shadowy corridors. When Ned and her siblings left the capital, Sansa had been devastated, her grief rendering her unable to eat for days.
She had feared she might not be able to win Viserys favor. But her expectations of him had been wrong. Despite the limited time they spent together, their moments were always filled with warmth. She grew captivated by his stories of adventures alongside Dany and developed a quiet dependency on him.
After allowing Sansa to nurse her baby in peace, Viserys checked on his two sons, now soundly sleeping with their dragon eggs, before mounting his dragon and departing Kings Landing. His destination: Oldtown and the High Tower.
...
Oldtown, the High Tower.
House Hightower hadmitted itself to the Norths cause, dispatching their elite forces nearly half a month prior. Leyton Hightower, the head of the house, sent his eldest son to oversee their defenses, leaving the High Tower itself to evolve into a quasi-magical research center.
Under Viserys support, the end of the War of the Restoration had brought a new wave of magical experimentation. Leyton and his daughter Malora had recruited individuals with magical abilities or potential to aid in their research. While this influx of talent elerated progress, few matched the skills of Malora and her father.
However, since the bizarre ident that fused Maloras head to a table, the pace of their magical studies had slowed dramatically. Her movements were restricted, and the sight of her condition unnerved even the most hardened researchers. The fusion of her scalp and skull to the bluecquered table was seamless, as though she had been born with it. Some strands of her hair had even begun to grow onto the table itself, creating a chilling spectacle.
Early attempts to relieve her plight had failed disastrously. The family initially proposed sawing off the table to free her. Yet, as soon as the saw de touched the surface, Malora screamed in agony, blood seeping from the cut. The experiment was quickly abandoned. The Maesters were called to treat the table itself, dressing its wounds as though it were flesh. The surreal nature of this task deeply disturbed the Maesters, who were unustomed to tending to furniture as though it were living tissue.
The situation grew more dire. Malora continued to cry out in pain, even when the table bore no visible injuries apart from the ill-fated attempt to sever it. Her father, Lord Leyton, had no choice but to turn to the royal family, presenting a dragon egg in desperation as payment for their assistance.
When Viserys finally arrived at the High Tower, memories of his prior visit with Dany during the War of the Restoration flooded back. He had been impressed then by the magic disyed within the ancient structure. Now, the burden of saving Malora rested squarely on his shoulders.
Viserys, clutching the wand and the magic they had been attempting to master, turned to Leyton and asked, Lord Leyton, exin what happened during your magic practice.
Leyton bowed slightly and replied, It was like this, Your Grace. Malora and I were trying to use magic to link two tables together. But the magic shot out from the end of the wand, and... it ended up like this.
So, you''re saying the problem lies with the wand? Viserys asked, narrowing his eyes.
Without hesitation, he examined Maloras wand, cutting it open to reveal scorched marks at its tip. It was clear that something unusual had urred, but Viserys had no prior experience with such anomalies. To understand, he turned his attention to their earlier spellwork.
Over the past two years, research at the Hightower had shown that most spells had corresponding counter-spells. However, developing these counter-spells proved to be an incredibly arduous task. With their current magical expertise still limited, it fell upon Viserys to take the lead.
Viserys began by analyzing the linking spell. As he delved into its mechanics, a realization struck himthis spell could potentially be used against the White Walkers. It was essentially a
control spell.
He envisioned its applications: binding White Walkers and their wights together, anchoring them to the ground, or even immobilizing them against the icy bone towers they constructed to impede their enemies. The possibilities were intriguing.
Using Leyton''s wand, Viserys practiced the linking spell meticulously. He first cast it on two books, fusing them tightly together. Then he moved on to heavier objects: weights, carts, even carriages. With each sess, his understanding deepened.
Eventually, the linking spell appeared as a skill on his magical panel. Determined, Viserys worked to increase its proficiency, and when the spell reached the
Expert level, a new spell seemed to emerge in his minda counter-spell: the
Unlink Spell.
Under the anxious gaze of the onlookers, Viserys directed his efforts toward Malora. Her head, unnaturally connected to the table, bore the consequences of their failed magic. With precise control, Viserys cast the
Unlink Spell. Slowly, the connection between her head and the table dissolved, strands of her scalp pulling free along with the remains of the failed spell.
Finally, Malora''s neck was freed. Exhausted, she copsed into a deep sleep, unable to muster even a word of gratitude.
Leytons relief was palpable. Overjoyed, he eximed, My daughter is saved atst! His admiration for Viserys deepened. Thebination of Viseryss political authority, military might, and magical prowess made him unrivaleda towering figure in the realm.
How many people can currently cast the linking spell? Viserys asked.
Leyton answered promptly, Your Grace, out of the 327 individuals studying magic at the Hightower, only 16 have managed to cast the linking spell so far.
Thats far too few, Viserys said firmly. Inform them that I want everyone practicing the linking spell immediately. In three months, I n tounch an offensive against the White Walkers. This spell will be critical, and I need at least 100 proficient in casting it by then.
One hundred? Leyton hesitated, his skepticism evident.
Many in the Hightower still struggled with basic spells like levitation. The linking spell, being far more advanced, seemed an insurmountable challenge for most.
Yet, the incentive Viserys offered made the effort worthwhile.
Those who master the linking spell in time will be transported to the Wall on dragons! Viserys dered, his tone brooking no argument.
Chapter 415: The Fall of the Wall
Chapter 415: The Fall of the Wall
The Night''s Watch had abandoned the Wall.
It had been less than two months since Viserys left the Wall, but staying there had be impossible. The relentless cold was unbearable, especially at night. More and more brothers of the Watch were dying in their sleep. To prevent them from turning into wights and attacking theirrades, guards had to stand watch even in the barracks while others rested. The situation was equally dire for those stationed at the lighthouses along the coast. If a sentry failed to respond for more than two days, it was assumed they had frozen to death.
Five days ago, Ned received a message from Viserys urging him to abandon the Wall and retreat south.
Perhaps I am the first Lord Commander of the Night''s Watch to abandon the Wall, Ned thought with a hint of bitter irony as he gazed at the immense structure. Snow and ice had filled its many cracks, signs of its slow decay. After lingering for a moment, he turned away and headed back to hismand post in Moles Town with Gendry. The decision to abandon the Wall meant Castle ck had also been forsaken.
In recent years, the free folk had transformed Moles Town from ruins into a livable settlement. Now, most of the free folk had migrated south alongside the civilians of the North, leaving the area emptya perfect location for a defensive headquarters. Ned had established hismand post there, repurposing the town to suit their needs.
The hall serving as the pre-war meeting room was warmed by several burning braziers. Inside were themanders of the various Wall castles and the northern lords who had apanied Robb. Among them were Robb, Jon, Bran, and Rickonall of Neds sons. The room was filled with lords and their heirs,manders and their squires. Many were men who had served under Ned in the past, while others were bound to him by blood. His presence dominated the hall; he was unquestionably the most powerful figure here.
The hundreds gathered in the hall were silent, their attention fixed on the "Old Lord."
The weight of his reputation alone kept them still. All awaited his instructions. They had been told that the Wall might copse at any moment, and the tension was palpable. Even Robb, now the Lord of Winterfell, appeared uneasy. Yet, as his gaze fell on Neds calm, unyielding expression, a measure of reassurance settled over him.
Behind Ned hung a massive map of the Wall. Brightmps illuminated the map from behind, making every detail visiblethe marks and annotations glowed clearly.
Grenn, how is the mineying progressing? Ned asked.
Grenn, once Jons close friend, had risen to be amander, leading over 200 Nights Watch soldiers. For weeks, he and his men had beenying mines in the strategic locations Viserys identified as vulnerable to the Night Kings forces.
Under Grenns strict supervisionoften bordering on brutalhis soldiers had worked tirelessly, enduring harsh conditions. Their hands were raw and blistered, with barely an inch of unscarred skin left.
My lord, we haveid a total of 1,174,000 mines so far, averaging over 200,000 mines at each suspected breach! Grenn reported. His voice, though steady, carried a note of pride.
Hm. Ned nodded, motioning for him to sit. For the taciturn Lord Commander, this was high praise.
Grenn returned to his seat, his spirits lifted. Jon watched his old friend with quiet pride, sharing in his satisfaction. The same Grenn who had once been mocked as Aurochs by Alliser Thorne had proven himself. He now stood as apetent and respectedmander.
But as Grenn nced back at Jon, his gaze was filled with disdain. Jon couldnt help but feel a pang of helplessness. His standing among the nobles and the Nights Watch had eroded. Despite Viserys backing, the northern lords still kept their distance.
Clearing his mind, Jon focused as Ned continued. As per His Grace Viserys instructions, we have divided the Wall into five sectors: Castle ck, The Shadow Tower, Greyguard, Stonedoor, and The Nightfort. I will split our forces into six groups, keeping one in reserve for flexibility. Communication andmand will be handled by the wargs.
Viserys had been proactive in recruiting and training wargs from the free folk, building a capable force that now served as a critical resource for the Nights Watch.
Just as Nedid out his strategy, a sudden vibration shook the hall. Dust cascaded from the beams above.
An earthquake? Or is the Night King advancing? someone murmured. Unease rippled through the room, though no one moved without Nedsmand.
Everyone, evacuate immediately! Ned ordered. His voice carried calm authority, steady even as the ground trembled beneath them.
The hall emptied quickly, and outside, all eyes turned toward the Great Wall, looming dozens of miles away. At first, they heard deep, resonant rumbles like muffled thunder. Then the Wallunchanged for millenniaseemed to awaken.
The colossal structure began to writhe, as if it were a living thing. Tremors rippled through its icy expanse, and momentster, it began to copse. Ice and snow exploded into the air, plumes rising like great clouds. The Wall, the Nights Watchs ancient defense, fell apart with terrifying speed, its vast height diminishing as it crumbled and slid into ruin.
The soldiers of the Nights Watch and the North stood frozen in shock, their faces pale and their mouths agape. The apocalyptic sight drained their courage. Some fell to their knees in despair.
This is the gods wrath! It must be the gods wrath! cried a thin soldier, his voice trembling with fear. Tears streamed down his face as he knelt, overwhelmed.
Get the hell up! bellowed a bearded officer, grabbing him roughly by the neck. The soldiers disy of weakness was an embarrassment to his superior.
Meanwhile, Ned and the othermanders raised binocrs, observing the catastrophic copse. The tumbling snow and ice resembled an avnche, burying the ancient fortress built by the Nights Watch over millennia. Yet, amid the devastation, a pattern emerged. As parts of the Wall crumbled, sections revealed jagged mountains beneath. These mountains, uneven and fragmented, exposed passes that had been hidden for thousands of years. These were the locations Viserys had marked earlier as critical breaches.
The copse continued for several agonizing minutes, the earth trembling with each passing second. Atst, the rumbling ceased, and an eerie silence settled over thend.
Ned unsheathed his sword, his voice clear and resolute. My lords, the North is vast, but behind it lies our home. There is nowhere left to retreat. Long live Emperor Viserys! The North shall prevail!
His deration sparked a fiery response.
Long live Emperor Viserys! The North shall prevail! the soldiers echoed. Their voices rose, growing louder with each chant.
The North shall prevail! The North shall prevail! The North shall prevail!
Among the crowd, seasoned lords like Greatjon and Rickard stood in stunned silence, their eyes reflecting memories of the past. It felt as if they had been transported twenty years back, to the War of the Usurper, when they had stood shoulder to shoulder with Ned in battle. Now, by an unexpected twist of fate, they were once again united under the Targaryen banner.
This time, their foe was even greater, a threat more powerful than any they had faced before. And the Night Kings forces had heralded their arrival with the destruction of the Walla chilling deration of war.
Chapter 416: The Night King’s Encirclement Strategy
Chapter 416: The Night Kings Encirclement Strategy
Here theye! Here theye!
Grenn, stationed closest to the ruins of the Wall, readied himself. As the Night''s Watchmander responsible for detonating the mines, he had the most perilous vantage point. The once-mighty ck Wall had been reduced to scattered boulders and gravel. Dusted by the falling snow, the ck rubble now appeared as if lightly frosted with sugar.
Grenn and his men were concealed among the debris, their dark cloaks blending with the ice and stone. They had kept their vigil for most of the day, bracing for this moment. Finally, the enemy appeared.
Through his binocrs, Grenn saw them clearly. The wights leading the horde were grotesque, their forms twisted and broken. Some staggered forward, missing arms or legs. Others had gaping holes in their torsos, exposing ckened ribs or tatters of rotting cloth. The more macabre ones crawled, their lower halves entirely gone, dragging themselves across the icy ground.
But the human wights were only part of the terror. Among them lumbered massive creatures: towering giant wights, skeletal reindeer wights, snarling wolf wights, and even goat wights with gnarled, broken horns. The grotesque parade was a scene from the deepest abyss of nightmares.
This must be a monster that crawled out of the seventh level of hell, Grenn muttered, his breath fogging in the freezing air.
The sight sent a chill deeper than the weather ever could. He reached for his sk, hoping a swig of wine would steel his nerves. But when he tipped it back, nothing poured outthe contents had frozen solid.
Frustrated, Grenn moved to toss the sk aside, only for it to stick fast to his lips. The icy metal clung to his skin, freezing his lips and tongue in ce. He jerked his head back in surprise, the sk dangling from his mouth like a grotesque parody of a birds beak. The free folk attendants nearby burst into quietughter at the absurd sight.
Damn it, Grenn growled through clenched teeth, tugging futilely at the sk. The pain of the frozen metal pulling at his skin brought tears to his eyes. He dared not yank it free too hardhis own flesh was at stake. Just as he considered thawing it with his breath, his squire interrupted.
My lord, the White Walkers have entered the minefield!
Grenn grimaced and gave the sk a final, desperate pull. Pain exploded through his face as he ripped it free. Blood dripped from his torn lips, staining the snow at his feet. His mouth and chin were a mess of crimson, the skin raw and ragged.
The sight made his squire recoil in horror, mping a hand over his own mouth instinctively. Grenn ignored him, breathing heavily as the icy air numbed the searing pain. With grim resolve, he grabbed a handful of snow and pressed it against his wounds, the chill stifling the heat and bleeding. His stoic disy cowed the soldiers around him, who dared not utter a word.
Onceposed, Grenn refocused on the advancing horde. The wights were steadily entering the minefield, their movements slow but relentless. His heart sank slightlythere wasnt a single White Walker among them, much less the Night King himself.
Kill one and count one, he muttered, his voice low but determined. Grenn removed his gloves and wrapped his fingers around the trigger, readying himself. He waited, hoping more of the undead would stumble into the mines.
From a watchtower on higher ground, Ned and hismanders observed the battlefield through spysses. The ruined Wall loomed in the distance, the enemy now clearly visible against the icy expanse.
Lord, wights have appeared in 40% of the minefield, reported one of the skinchangers, who had just dismounted from his shaggy mount.
Keep scouting! Nedmanded firmly.
Yes, my lord! the skinchangers replied in unison, their voices steady despite the tension.
There were twenty skinchangers stationed at Nedsmand post, each warging into ravens. These birds were crucial for rying orders and gathering intelligence from the frontlines. The skinchangers sat in two orderly rows, their eyes rolled back as their consciousness roamed through their avianpanions.
Viserys, Ned murmured under his breath, a name spoken only to himself. Though he asionally missed Robert, he was grateful that the crown had not been his to win. History, it seemed, had taken the better path.
A quarter of an hour passed before the skinchangers reported back. Lord, wights have been seen in 70% of the minefields!
Are there any signs of movement in the Icebone Towers? Ned inquired sharply.
Lord, there are no signs of movement in the Icebone Towers on the southern side of the Great Wall ruins, came the response.
Continue to scout! Ned ordered.
Another quarter-hour slipped by before another report came. Lord, wights have already passed through our minefield!
Ned had no time to react before shes of light appeared in the distance. The mines were detonating. Momentster, the rolling thunder of explosions reached them.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The rumbling echoes washed over them, a grim symphony of destruction. The sight of the explosions brought a measure of relief to Neds otherwise tense demeanor. He could already picture wights being blown to bits.
For Ned and the seasoned Nights Watch, the sight and sound of exploding mines were expected, even routine. But for the lords and soldiers of the North, it was their first time witnessing such devastating power. Conversations broke out among them, filled with awe and curiosity about the mines effectiveness.
Nothing can withstand such force, one lord murmured, his voice filled with wonder.
Will my castle hold? Rickard thought suddenly, realizing the question must be lingering in the minds of others as well.
The lords were acutely aware that these weapons came from Viserys. The Targaryens now had not only their fearsome dragons but also weapons of terrifying precision. Roberts rebellion seemed like an impossibility now. Yet most of the soldiers, more practical than political, simply felt reassured that such weapons were on their side.
The tension that had hung over them since the Walls copse began to ease.
Father, why do we see the light before we hear the sound? asked the Greatjons son, his voice carrying a childlike curiosity.
Stupid, came the gruff reply. Because the eyes are in front of the ears!
The explosions continued for more than ten minutes, a spectacle that felt both terrible and grand. Meanwhile, Ned collected reports from the skinchangers on the killing zones.
Lord, the Castle ck sector has killed around 40,000 wights.
Lord, the Greyguard sector has killed around 60,000 wights.
Simr reports came in from other sectors. In just under a quarter-hour of detonations, the mines had destroyed over 150,000 wights.
It was an impressive figure, enough to boost morale among the soldiers. Yet, Ned couldnt allow himself to feel content. Viserys had warned that the total number of wights could be two to three millionor more. This victory, significant as it seemed, was only a dent in the enemys forces. Worse still, the Icebone Towersmassive structures associated with the White Walkers strategyremained untouched.
But to the soldiers andmanders, it felt like a triumphant haul. Spirits were high.
Then came the bad news.
A messenger rushed into themand post, his face pale as snow. My Lord Commander, he gasped, White Walkers have appeared behind our lines!
Chapter 417: Ghost’s Blood
Chapter 417: Ghosts Blood
The Night King ced his Icebone Tower on the ice floes. Using the tower, he created colossal "ice boats" that transported tens of thousands of wights and White Walkers, encircling Ned''s army.
Who would have imagined that the Icebone Tower could actually float on water? It was simply incredible.
"My lord, there are about 100,000 wights and White Walkers to our right rear!"
"Lord, 30,000 wights are appearing directly behind us..."
"Lord, behind our left nk..."
Ned quickly realized they were surrounded by the Night King''s forces. Should they hold their ground and fight or attempt to break through in one direction? He wasn''t sure.
In the end, Ned decided to take a risk. A strong instinct told him that Viserys was near.
The Night''s Watch and the army of the North were visibly divided. The Night''s Watch formed the first line of defense, while the army of the North held the second. Thetter had only just arrived to support the fight, and their chain ofmand differed significantly. Attempting to integrate the two forces hastily would only lower theirbat effectiveness.
Behind the army of the North, a white direwolf the size of a calf fought ferociously against several wights. This was Jon''s direwolf, Ghostor rather, it was Jon himself.
The white direwolf moved like a gust of wind, weaving through the ck mass of wights. With a powerful snap of its jaws, it broke the neck of one wight and darted aside just in time to avoid another''s attack. Even with its neck snapped, the wight wasnt entirely incapacitated. Though unable to stand, it still crawled andshed out with deadly intent.
Jon lifted his head and locked his gaze on the White Walker behind the wights. He knew that this creature was the "controller" of the wights and that defeating it would render the undead immobileunless another White Walker assumed control.
Feigning continued battle with the wights, Jon waited until he had maneuvered Ghost far enough from the White Walker. Then, with a burst of speed, hemanded Ghost to leap over the wights'' heads.
The White Walker''s glowing blue eyes red with rm as it saw the white direwolf charging toward it. It quickly drew a sword from its back, shimmering like an icicle.
Jon, controlling Ghost, dodged the swing of the icy de with precision and mped down on the White Walkers arm with his powerful jaws, severing it. The creature, unfazed by pain, continued its attackuntil all its limbs had been torn off.
Jons intention was to capture this White Walker alive.
But then, a chilling thought struck him.
"Wait, why is there a White Walker here?"
Jon, who had been fighting on the periphery of the battlefield, suddenly realized something was amiss. Because of his contentious rtionship with the Northern nobles, none of them had wanted his army positioned ahead of their own. Robb had stationed Jon at the rear of the linefar from the center of the battle.
Yet here, at the very edge of the field, he had encountered a White Walker.
A gust of wind rustled through Ghosts fur as the direwolf stood atop a hill, its sharp eyes scanning the horizon.
Jon saw them. White Walkers and wights, descending like locusts from the sky.
But that wasnt all.
In the distance, the Icebone Tower loomed, its skeletal structure of severed limbs shifting ominously as it advanced.
Jons heart sank. They were surrounded.
Realizing the futility of his n to capture the White Walker alive, Jon abandoned the idea and turned to flee back toward his forces.
However, Jon hadnt noticed the group of wights and dead wolves that had silently appeared around him. Their glowing blue eyes pierced through the darkness, and there were more than ten of themeach as massive as Ghost. They were closing in, step by step.
Jon quickly assessed the situation. Fighting them head-on would be foolish. Manipting Ghosts body, he found a narrow opening and bolted backward.
The ice wolves chased him relentlessly, their ws tearing through the frozen ground, while the White Walkers ahead blocked any clear path of escape. It was a trap, and Jon knew it. Without Viserys guidance, he doubted he could have escaped this encirclement.
No, I need to return now and give Ghosts body back to him!
The effects of warging lingered heavily on Jons mind. While inhabiting Ghosts body, his thoughts felt dulled, less sharp than when in his own form. With a final burst of effort, Jon abandoned the direwolfs body and returned to his human form at camp.
This time, Jon had brought a force of 500 men, including 100 Unsullied lent to him by Viserys. Of course, these Unsullied werent freely giventhey were only stationed at Jons Icebreaker Castle as part of an agreement.
As Jon stepped out of his tent, he saw the Unsullied standing in perfect formation. Their discipline was unshakable. Spotting Jon, the captain of the Unsullied and an apanying Maester approached him.
My lord.
Send word immediately to the Lords at the frontno, at the rear! The White Walkers areing from behind us, and were surrounded!
The Maesters face paled with shock, but the Unsullied captain remainedposed and resolute. This demeanor reassured Jon, who found himself impressed by the man.
Jon recalled that the captain was called Grey Worm. It struck him how underutilized Grey Worm was as a centurion.
He could easilymand at least 10,000 men, Jon thought to himself.
Grey Worm, Jon said, well hold the White Walkers here and buy the others time to regroup.
Yes, my lord! Grey Worm responded without hesitation.
With only 500 men, their defensive range was limited. Jon decided they needed to face the densest concentration of White Walkers to make their stand. A concentrated sh would not only dy the enemy but also serve as a signal to alert the rest of the army.
As Jon prepared to move out with his troops, a familiar white shadow appeared at his side.
It was Ghost.
The direwolf staggered toward Jon, its fur matted with blood, its body covered in wounds. Blood spurted from its throat, and its once-bright red eyes were dull and exhausted.
Jons throat tightened. The sight brought back memories of the first time he had met Ghost, whose mother had been pierced through the throat by a stags antlers.
But Ghost had no time for Jons grief. Jon could feel the direwolfs faint but urgent questioning gaze.
Swallowing his emotions, Jon removed his white cloak and wrapped it gently around Ghosts battered body. He then turned to lead his men into battle.
They soon reached an ideal defensive positiona small, elevated hill. Though it could hold an army of a thousand, Jons 500 would have to make do. He positioned his men strategically, intermixing the 100 Unsullied with the rest of his troops to maximize their effectiveness.
From their vantage point, Jon spotted five White Walkers on horseback. Their presence was chillingthey exuded an aura of strength far greater than the White Walkers he had faced earlier.
Jon stood firm in the center of his formation, ready to meet them head-on. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, then discarded it, shifting into a low, battle-ready stance.
Below, the wights surged. More than 3,000 of them had already gathered, and their numbers continued to grow. The lead White Walker raised his ice spear high, signaling the horde.
With a thunderous roar, the wights charged, a ck-gray tide crashing against the defenders on the hill.
Chapter 418: Blood of the North
Chapter 418: Blood of the North
Jon led his forces into an arc-shaped formation atop the slope, a defensive line that resembled a white shield. With their weapons equipped with obsidian spearheads, they braced for the onught of wights surging uphill.
The obsidian spears were devastating against the undead. Each strike pierced through the chest of a wight, instantly copsing it into a lifeless heap. Some of the skeletal wights were so fragile they scattered like dry straw when struck, their disjointed limbs tumbling down the hill. Severed heads rolled freely, grotesque remnants of their former selves. One such head, with bulging, feral brows, was crushed beneath a horses hoof, splintering apart with a sickening crunch. The glowing blue eyes were ejected from the shattered skull andnded far from the fray, lifeless.
The rumble of hooves soon drowned out the sh of battle. A cavalry of wightsaround 70 to 80led by two White Walkers charged up the slope. Their icy steeds trampled everything in their path, their relentless advance cutting a swath toward Jons position.
Jon yanked his obsidian spear from a wight''s chest, but the spearhead was wedged too tightly to free. As the cavalry closed in, he twisted and pulled desperately, but the brittle obsidian snapped, leaving behind a jagged edge.
Obsidianharder than steel but far more brittlewas effective but fragile. It reminded Jon of the cycle of history: the First Men fell to bronze-wielding Andals, who were in turn overpowered by steel. Now they hade full circle, relying once again on stone. The one advantage was its abundance, allowing every soldier to carry spares.
Jon quickly unscrewed the broken spearhead to rece it but stopped short. The wight cavalry was climbing the hill without slowing, and there wasnt enough time to prepare. Gritting his teeth, he hurled the broken spear toward the lead White Walker.
The White Walker, d in shimmering ice armor, deflected the spear with ease using his ice de. But as Jon braced for the next move, the Unsullied soldiers around him shifted into a dense formation, their spears bristling like the quills of a porcupine.
Before the cavalry could be fully stopped, a wight next to the lead White Walker suddenly surged forward, mming directly into Jons line. The force of its impact, apanied by the haunting wail of the
Song of the Dead, created a devastating breach.
Fall back! Fall back! Jon shouted, his voice raw, but the order came toote.
The gap widened, and White Walkers poured through like pus from a wound, dragging hordes of wights in their wake. Jons formation split in two, leaving the soldiers in the breach surrounded on both sides.
The chaos was merciless. Soldiers stabbed wights in front of them with obsidian spears, only to be blindsided by other wights lunging for their necks, jagged ck and yellow teeth bared. Warm blood sttered onto the cold, hard ground, a stark contrast to the bloodless wights.
The situation was dire. The breach in the formation grew wider, and the screams of the dying filled the air. Worse still, both Jon and Grey Worm were positioned together, leaving half the remaining soldiers leaderless.
The older veterans among the troops, initially disoriented by the taste of the battle, now realized the grim truth: the stench of blood came only from their own. Their foes were lifeless husksunfeeling, unyielding, and devoid of blood.
Jons face hardened as he drew his Valyrian steel sword.
Jon''s sword, "Coldfyre," embodied the essence of ice and the ferocity of mes. He stood resolute, leading thest remnants of his forces in a desperate stand against the relentless White Walkers, who surged forward like moths to a me. These enemies were not only fearless but also tireless and seemingly infinite in number.
Amid the chaos, a White Walker warrior paused, a glimmer of excitement flickering in the blue glow of its eyes. Something about the man before ithis stance, his presencehinted at a bloodline of extraordinary power. The warriors instincts urged it forward, de in hand, as Jon Snow felt exhaustion creeping into his limbs.
The battle raged on. Jon, his swordsmanship precise and determined, struck down two wights in quick session. He barely had time to catch his breath before a chill ran down his spine. Turning sharply, he saw a White Walker closing in, its icy de poised for a strike. There was no room to maneuver, no escape. The frozen weapon loomedrger andrger in his vision.
Just as despair began to grip him, a white blur barreled into his side. Ghost. The direwolf mmed into Jon, shoving him clear of the attack but exposing himself in the process. The White Walkers de shed through Ghost''s belly, and crimson blood bloomed across the wolfs pristine fur.
A surge of anger and grief overtook Jon, his mind drowning in the roar of blood rushing through his veins. The fatigue that had weighed him down evaporated, reced by a surge of raw power. With newfound strength, heunched himself at the White Walker, skillfully exploiting the terrain to gain the upper hand.
His soldiers, emboldened by their Lords ferocity, rallied. For a brief moment, they pushed the wights back, the tide of battle appearing to shift. Yet the illusion of victory was short-lived. The truth was harsh: Jon and his men were deep within the heart of the enemy''s ranks. As he fought on, Jon became painfully aware of the dwindling numbers at his side. Fewer than a hundred remained, the rest having fallenand risen againto join the army of the dead.
Though they had cut down thousands of wights, the achievement felt hollow against the ceaseless tide of the undead. The sheer vastness of the enemy, stretching endlessly into the darkness, was suffocating.
Despair threatened to take hold, but instead, Jon felt an unexpected calm, even a hint of joy. He was not afraid. Perhaps this was the end.
Am I going to see Shiera? he wondered, the thought soft and almost serene.
Raising his gaze, he took in the contrasting skies above: the serene blue above his head and the stormy gray looming in the distance. Before him, the wights drew closer, their cold forms blending with the howling wind that chilled him to his core.
Shiera! I''ming! Jon bellowed, his voice raw with emotion. Kill!
Gripping
Coldfyre tightly, he prepared to lead his soldiers in a final, defiant charge against the horde. Just as his feet shifted forward, a horns deep, resonant call echoed through the icy battlefield. It wasnt the sound of the enemyit was the horn of Winterfell.
Jon spun around, his eyes catching a flicker of movement in the distance. Rising against the bleak horizon were two banners: the silver-grey direwolf of House Stark and the white sunburst on ck of House Karstark. Relief and confusion mingled as he saw Rickard Karstarks army charging into the fray, led by none other than Harrion Karstarkthe same man who had once scorned him.
The Icebreaker Castle armys resilience had bought time for Robb Stark and the northern lords to gather reinforcements. Now, thebined might of the North surged forward like a tidal wave, mming into the wights with devastating force. Farther out, Jon noticed shes ofbat as other armies joined the fight, igniting new fronts in the seemingly endless battle.
Jons momentary relief was shattered as his gaze fell on Ghost. The direwolfs once-brilliant red eyes now glowed an unnatural blue. His heart clenched, but there was no time to falter. With a heavy heart, Jon raised his sword and swiftly brought it down, ending Ghosts suffering.
The grief coursing through him reignited his rage, fueling his charge. Jon turned his sights to the White Walker warrior who had nearly ended him earlier. With a guttural cry, he surged forward, de swinging in a fury of vengeance.
Meanwhile, the tide of battle shifted further. Reinforced by the Karstarks and other armies, the soldiers of the North and the Nights Watch fought with newfound strength. Even Ned Stark, stationed farther south, had chosen to move his forces into action.
Ned had calcted the risks. Though more wights approached from behind, their numbers in this specific area were finite, and theirck of equipment made them vulnerable to the disciplined northern troops. Additionally, thendmines they had ced near the Wall would dy the undead reinforcements for a short timean hour or two at most. It wasnt much, but it was enough for the northern armies to stage a breakout.
The soldiers of the North and the Nights Watch fought fiercely, their unity and morale shining against the overwhelming odds. Not only did they stabilize the front lines, but they began to push the wights back, wing their way toward victory, step by bloody step.
Though the enemys numbers were vast, the courage of the North burned brighter.
Lord Commander, we saw that these wights all came from the forest, Orell reported. As the "Head of the Wargers" among the Night''s Watch, he had been among the first to surrender to Viserys. His tone was steady, but his keen eyes betrayed concern.
Ned frowned, deep in thought, as if a map were forming before his eyes. To the east of The Northy the Bay of Seals, its terrain dense with forest. To the west, the Bay of Ice bordered the rugged mountainnds, home to the ns of The North. The region was a mix of forests and foothills, with theyered foothills scattered throughout. It became clear that the Night King had likely used the cover of the forest and mountains to outmaneuver them.
If the enemy had nked them from the forest to the east, the logical step was to advance into that area. Deepwood Motte, the stronghold of House Umber, was the closest defensible position. Perhaps they could establish a foothold there and hold out until reinforcements arrived.
My lord! The Icebone Towerits moving towards us, to the south! A Skinchanger, visibly distressed, brought the urgent news. Though his words were disjointed, Ned quickly pieced together the situation.
Raising his binocrs, Ned scanned the horizon. Despite the dim light, the Icebone Tower was unmistakableits massive, bone-white structure loomedrge, an imposing contrast against the surrounding gloom. He knew well its devastating capabilities from Viseryss prior tests. The Tower could unleash two horrors: a freezing ice mist that snuffed out any trace of heat and deadly ice bone spears, whose power far outmatched mortal weaponry.
This was no fight that steel could win. Only magic could counter such overwhelming force. Yet, for now, they had no choice but to stand their ground and endure the mounting casualties.
Hurry! Fall back to the rear! Rickards voice rang out, urgent andmanding.
Father! Let me stay! Im already a Nights Watchmanlet me die here! his son protested.
Cut the nonsense! Dont the Nights Watchmen have fathers? I wont stand here and watch you die before my eyes! Rickard snapped.
His love for his eldest son was unshakable, memories of the boys first steps, his first swing of a sword, and his first arrow shot flooding his mind. His son was his legacy, the continuation of his life.
Suddenly, the battlefield was pierced by a deafening sound. Ice spears, thick as arms, rained down in torrents. Thousands of Icebone Towers lined the horizon,unching tens of thousands of ice arrows and spears into the positions of The North and the Night''s Watch.
The icy onught shattered armor as if it were paper, sending warm blood sttering across the frozen ground. Rickard shielded his son with his body, but an enormous ice spear tore through them both, their lifeblood freezing almost instantly.
Everywhere, the story was the same. Lords fell under the relentless barrage, targeted with chilling precision. Greatjons body bristled with over a dozen ice arrows. Nearby, Rickon and Bran wept as Robb, impaled through the stomach by an ice spear, drove an obsidian spike into his own head to avoid a wights grasp.
Amid the carnage stood Ramsay Snow, bastard son of Roose Bolton. For the first time in his life, Ramsay felt like a true noble, summoned by Robb in his fathers stead while Roose served as King Viseryss King''s Justice.
It was a fleeting triumph, overshadowed by the ice spear that now pierced his chest. The cold numbed his senses, dulling the pain even as he whispered, Father
In this timeline, Ramsay had notmitted Kinying. His rtionship with Roose was one of mutual respect, not betrayal. But as the numbness spread through his body, his eyes caught something on the horizon: an orange-red me.
It spread across the ground with unnatural speed, a searing wave of fire racing directly toward the icy army.
Chapter 419: The Tower of Dragonbones
Chapter 419: The Tower of Dragonbones
An orange path of fire streaked through the ck and grey ranks of the White Walker army. It seemed to have materialized from nowhere, as though the frozen legion had been soaked in fuel and set alight. Yet these so-called mes were not ordinary firethey were pitch-ck dragon fire.
Spewed forth by the dragons, the fire retained its ck hue even in the air, blending seamlessly with the darkened sky. But as it struck the ground and consumed the White Walkers, it ignited into shades of vivid orange and yellow. Under the dragon''s relentless ze, both wights and White Walkers erupted into mes.
As the dragonfire engulfed the White Walkers, dense white mist poured from their bodies, like superheated iron doused in ice-cold water.
An Icebone Tower that blocked the fiery path soon became the focus of Viseryss wrath. He directed the dragonfire at the tower, which was deluged in ck mes for more than ten seconds. Its structural integrity gave way, disintegrating into shards as though the magic binding it had been undone.
Viserys, Dany, and Monterys had brought all seven dragons to this battle, alongside Hali and Hermine. Their mission was clear: carve a path for the forces of the North and the Nights Watch to retreat. This goal required calcted risk; aerial bombardment alone wouldnt suffice. In addition to their dragons, theymanded 30,000 elite troops from the South, equipped for the unique challenges of fighting the White Walkers.
Among their arsenal were 1,000 chariots, chosen for their sheer momentum. These chariots surged forward along the fiery path burned by dragon mes, smashing through the wights. Soldiers aboard hurled grenades to further widen the escape route for the Northern forces.
Jon Snow was now nked by only a dozen loyal guards. They had been steadily retreating, and he had lost track of which part of the battlefield he upied. The only certainty was that survivors remained behind him, and that knowledge was enough. His own survival was irrelevantwhat mattered was using everyst ounce of strength to strike down one more White Walker, to push back the encroaching tide just a little longer.
A sudden, familiar explosion echoed across the battlefield.
Land mines? Or explosives? Jon muttered, looking up instinctively.
He spotted Viserys astride his dragon, speeding toward him. The dragon flew perilously close to the groundbarely five or six meters above it. As it approached, the gust from its massive wings sent waves of air rippling over Jon. The dragon unleashed a torrent of ck fire, incinerating the White Walkers ahead of Jon as if they were nothing more than dry weeds.
Seizing the moment, Jon swung his
Coldfyre and decapitated a still-burning White Walker.
Its headless body crumbled into fine shards of ice, disintegrating along with the wights that had attacked alongside it. This brief reprieve allowed Jon to nce up at the soaring dragon.
Whats it like to ride a dragon? Am I worthy? The thought was fleeting. He shook his head, dispelling it, and refocused on the battle, cutting down another burning White Walker nearby.
From a distance, Ned Starks hardened expression softened slightly as he watched the dragons arrival. Despite the dire circumstances, the sight brought a sliver of relief. He had just received word of Robbs deatha devastating blow. There was no time to grieve. Not only Robb, but many Northern Lords had fallen, victims of the Night Kings brutal decapitation strategy. Without Viseryss timely arrival, the Northern army might have already dissolved into chaos.
The fact that Bran and Rickon were still alive was his only constion. Seeing Viseryss intent, Ned rallied a contingent of Nights Watch and began leading them toward a breakout...
Higher, higher, higher! Viserys shouted from the back of his dragon, his voice nearly drowned out by the roaring wind and the deafening ps of wings.
One path of retreat wasnt enough for thebined forces of the North and the South. They needed another, cutting through the enemy from a different direction. Responding to hismand, the seven dragons banked sharply, wheeling around to begin their attack anew.
Meanwhile, the heavy cavalry led by Gan Tyrell and Randyll Tarly prepared for their charge. Seeing Viserys and the dragons flying toward their position, the cavalrymen leveled their spears, bracing for action. The dragons soared overhead, their ck fire trailing behind them, before turning back to incinerate the ranks of wights ahead of the charging cavalry.
On Viseryss dragon rode not only the Targaryen prince but also Benerro and a dozen red priests. This was their moment, their chance to study the enigmatic Icebone Towers. Viserys had initially believed that defeating the Night King would require a massive army assault to capture one or two of these towers. Now, however, the situation had presented an unexpected opportunity.
Airborne reconnaissance by the red priests could provide insights into the towers structureknowledge crucial for developing a countermeasure: the Dragonbone Tower. Whatever form this new weapon would take, Dragonbone would be its cornerstone.
What about that Icebone Tower? Viserys shouted, pointing to a three-meter-tall structure below. His voice had to rise above the fierce winds and the chaos of battle as he issuedmands to Dany and his daughters.
The tower stood isted, with only a few White Walkers and wights nearby. Its location in rugged terrain made it difficult for reinforcements to arrive quickly. A perfect candidate for closer studyor so it seemed.
Your Grace, it would be better if we could find arger one, Benerro suggested after a moment of thought. His tone carried both respect and urgency. Arger tower would yield greater insights, especially one of strategic significance. The Night King himself had chosen a towering hundred-foot Icebone Tower as his base of operations; clearly, their size was tied to their importance.
Viserys nodded, shifting his gaze to a five-meter-tall tower. While rtively isted, its t surroundings made it vulnerable to swift reinforcement by enemy forces.
Your Grace, that one, Benerro pointed toward a seven-meter-tall Icebone Tower.
This tower loomed ominously, one of thergest they had encountered so far. Its defenses were formidablehundreds of White Walkers and wights encircled it. Among them stood a dozen Giant Wights, their massive frames casting long shadows in the flickering firelight.
Near the tower, Viserys spotted a contingent of White Walker cavalry. This fearsome unit consisted not only of White Walkers on undead horses but also those mounted on enormous spiders, their spindly legs capable of scaling treacherous terrain with ease. Should reinforcements be needed, the spider-mounted White Walkers could reach the tower within two minutes.
On the opposite side of the towery even more threats: arge force of White Walker warriors, disciplined and prepared for battle.
Viserys studied the scene, weighing their chances. Finally, he turned to Benerro, his expression resolute. I can buy you at most 15 minutes. How much you can learn from the Icebone Tower in that time is up to you!
Chapter 420: The Battle for the Icebone Tower
Chapter 420: The Battle for the Icebone Tower
Viserys''s yellow dragon and Monterys''s blue dragon swooped down toward the seven-meter-tall Icebone Tower designated by Benerro. Surrounding the tower were hundreds of White Walkers and twice as many wights. These wights, however, were not the typical dismembered "cannon fodder" variety but fully intact "special wights"giants, reindeer, ice wolves, and more.
As Viserys and Monterys approached, the wights and White Walkers turned their attention upward, sensing their presence. Even the giants, usually gued by poor eyesight, fixed their gaze on the dragons. They hefted massive wooden clubs, prepared to repel the iing attack. Yet the difference in size was staggering. A giant, standing over three meters tall, appeared as insignificant as a hare before a twenty-meter-long dragon.
And these dragons were not merely imposing; they were weapons of destruction. They resembled fiery war chariots in the sky. The dragons unleashed streams of ck smoke-like dragonfire on the giants attempting resistance, forcing them back before splitting into two directions to encircle the Icebone Tower. The inferno they unleashed turned the wights into zing orange torches, while the White Walkers disintegrated into cascades of white ice dew.
The yellow dragonnded, sweeping its immense tail at the still-burning but mobile monsters. Each powerful swing of its ten-meter-long tail cut through the crowd like a scythe, apanied by a mournful "oooh" sound. The sheer force cleared wide swaths of enemies. On its back, a group of red priests clung desperately to a massive fishing vest secured around the dragonconstructed from thick iron chains and hemp rope, with additional straps to hold them in ce. Despite these precautions, some priests couldnt help but vomit from the dragon''s jarring movements. Thankfully, neither the dragon nor Viserys seemed to notice.
As the yellow dragon''s riders disembarked, Monterys and the blue dragon circled the Icebone Tower, vigntly intercepting any wights or White Walkers approaching the structure. Meanwhile, Benerro led the red priests closer to the tower, bing the first living beings to approach it this closely. The Icebone Tower, seven meters tall, loomed before them. Though simr in height to streemps from Viserys''s memory, its macabrepositionwrithing, twisting severed limbs crowning the topwas grotesque. Just one nce left the priests feeling as if their skin was crawling with ants and centipedes.
Your Grace, we are about to begin, Benerro announced, swallowing hard. Please protect us as best you can. We may not be able to stop immediately while examining the Icebone Tower''s structure.
Very well. Make haste, Viserys replied, his resolve firm. He would grant them the time they needed, even if it meant sacrificing a dragon.
To his surprise, the red priests didnt approach the Icebone Tower like conventional surveyors. Instead, they arranged themselves into two concentric circles around Benerroan elliptical outer ring and a perfect inner circle, with Benerro at its center. The formation resembled an eye, with Benerro as its pupil. He raised his hand and began tracing intricate me runes in the air with his fingers. Within moments, hepleted the runes and directed them toward the Icebone Tower. The runes collided with the tower, sparking brightly.
The heads atop the Icebone Towerhuman, bear, wolf, deer, and morelet out a unified roar, ck smoke pouring from their mouths. Viserys nced at Benerro, noting the strain etched on his face. Clearly, this was not the oue Benerro had anticipated.
There was no time to dwell on this, however, as the White Walkers around them began converging rapidly. Viserys tightened his grip on the situation. Benerro needed more time, and Viserys was determined to give it to him.
Viserys continued to unleash streams of fire from his dragon as he worked to hold back the advancing White Walkers. Together with Monterys, he constructed a zing firewall around the Icebone Tower to protect Benerro and the red priests. Though fire was a natural deterrent to both White Walkers and wights, their relentless determination revealed their intent. It became clear that they understood Viserys''s goal and were willing to sacrifice themselves to thwart it.
The White Walkers icy mist, released as they touched the mes, had an unsettling ability to "extinguish" the fire. Viserys observed as a White Walker Knight charged directly into the dragon''s inferno. The first was burned pale by the heat, but as the second arrived, it pushed further into the mes, aided by the lingering mist of its predecessor. Then came the third, the fourth, the fifthuntil the oppressive, almost tangible white mist punched a breach in the firewall.
Through this opening, the White Walkers and wights surged toward Benerro and his group. However, they were immediately met with another fiery barrage from the dragons. Viserys swiftly realized the gravity of the situation. The sheer number of attackers was overwhelming. Each breach in the firewall meant another surge of foes crashing through, threatening the red priests and hindering their reconnaissance efforts.
The dragons, reduced to acting as "firewall repairmen," moved tirelessly to seal the gaps with fresh fire. But no matter how quickly they worked, there were always more breaches than they could cover.
Monterys, go get Hali over here! Viserys shouted to Monterys.
Monterys nodded and took off with the blue dragon to summon their ally. Two dragons werent enough for this assault, but with three, they stood a chance.
The departure of Monterys increased the strain on Viserys. Undeterred, he called upon his fire magic to fortify the defenses. Sitting astride his dragon, he began chanting a spell. The firewall roared to life, growing more than three times in height and twice in thickness. The mes shifted from red to an intense white, their searing heat a testament to their increased power.
The brilliant white mes lit up the dark battlefield like a beacon. Monterys, flying off to fetch Hali, turned his head and gasped at the radiant spectacle behind him. The sight filled him with renewed determination.
The mes reach extended beyond the immediate battlefield. Jaime, locked in fiercebat, noticed the White Walker before him hesitate, its icy features suddenly illuminated with eerie rity. Taking advantage of the momentary daze, Jaime swiftly decapitated his foe. Turning toward the source of the light, he saw the towering mes blooming like fiery flowers against the night.
The sight of the dragons and the zing inferno lifted the spirits of soldiers across the battlefield. Their shouts rang out:
Long live Your Grace Viserys! Jon yelled, driving his sword into a wight.
Long live Your Grace Viserys! bellowed Gan, d in his green armor, as he fought a White Walker Knight.
The chant grew louder, spreading across the battlefield.
Long live Your Grace Viserys!
Long live Your Grace Viserys!
Long live Your Grace!
...Long live Your Grace!
The rallying cry, carried by countless voices, surged like a spell of courage, momentarily overpowering the bitter cold wind.
Viseryss reserves of magic were running dangerously low, and the intense white mes he had summoned began to dim and sputter. Fortunately, before the firewall failedpletely, Monterys returned with Hali and her dragon. With three dragons now on the battlefield, they methodically repaired the zing barrier, holding the White Walkers and wights at bay. It seemed they had bought themselves a brief reprieveperhaps a quarter of an hourwhen the situation took a grim turn.
Without warning, cracks appeared at the base of the Icebone Tower. From these fractures, dozens of pale White Walkers emerged, their icy forms glinting ominously in the firelight. They moved with rming speed, charging directly toward Benerros "Eye Array."
The realization hit hard: the Icebone Tower had served not only as a fortification but also as a concealed troop deployment point. It was a clever and ruthless tactic, showcasing the Night Kings unorthodox ingenuity.
The red priests were unprepared for this ambush. Before they could organize a defense, the White Walkers were upon them, scattering the formation. Chaos erupted. Three or four priests fell immediately, their lives imed by the icy des of their attackers. The dragons couldnt intervene with fire; the risk of harming their own allies was too great.
Benerro, desperate, swung his flowing red sleeve, conjuring a fiery gust that mmed into the advancing White Walkers. Yet, to his dismay, the mes barely affected them. These White Walkers bore intricate, natural patterns on their pale skinpatterns that seemed to grant them resistance to magic. Although a few embers clung to their bodies, the mes failed to deal significant damage, serving only to slow their advance.
The priests could see the grotesque, mummified features of their attackers in the flickering firelight. Fanged and wed, the White Walkers pressed forward relentlessly. Just as Benerro began to despair, a cold gleam sliced through the night.
A White Walker nearest to him was bisected from shoulder to waist, shattering into icy fragments. Benerro blinked in shock, realizing the attacker had been felled by Viserys. The king leaped from his dragon into the fray, cutting through the ranks of White Walkers with startling precision. Though resistant to magic, these creatures were physically vulnerable, and Viserys exploited this weakness. His de moved like a whirlwind, ying a dozen White Walkers in quick session and momentarily stabilizing the situation.
But even as he fought, new cracks opened in the Icebone Towers base, revealing a dark fissure from which more White Walkers crawled, their numbers seemingly endless.
How much more time do you need? Viserys demanded, not pausing in his onught.
Benerro, though panting and visibly strained, responded with fervor, his voice tinged with exhration. Your Grace, just give me another quarter of an hour! Another quarter of an hour, and I can make the Dragonbone Tower even stronger!
It was clear that amidst the chaos, Benerro had discovered something extraordinary about the Icebone Towersomething that could turn the tide of the battle.
Chapter 421: The Fall of the Dragon
Chapter 421: The Fall of the Dragon
Even with an endless supply of White Walkers on this side of the Icebone Tower, only five or six could escape from it at a time. Viserys would kill the White Walkers, and the Icebone Tower would create or release more, maintaining a fragile, dynamic bnce between the two forces.
With all three dragons present, the overall situation had improved. But the prolonged fighting was taking its toll. More White Walkers and wights were gradually advancing from the ruins of the Great Wall.
Fortunately, two escape routes had been opened, allowing the armies of The North and the Night''s Watch to begin their retreat. They estimated that an hour at most would be enough to withdrawpletely from the battlefield. However, the army of wights they werebating seemed to grow fiercer, their eerie blue eyes glowing brighter with intensity.
The exhausted forces of The North and the Night''s Watch struggled to hold their ground. Dany led the remaining four dragons in repeated sweeps across the battlefield, trying to alleviate the pressure on the retreating soldiers. But to do so effectively, the dragons had to fly dangerously low. Their supply of explosive charges had long since been depleted, leaving only dragonfire as their weapon.
Danys violet eyes remained wide open, scanning intently to distinguish between the White Walkers and her own people. She knew she couldnt afford any mistakesbut the task was far from easy.
Four.
Her heart sank as she realized what had happened. In the chaos, she had identally unleashed dragonfire on a Nights Watch soldier. Although she had killed dozens of wights and at least three White Walkers, this single error weighed heavily on her.
Dany couldnt suppress a wave of worry. If she, a seasoned dragon rider, could make such a mistake, what of Hermine? And the two dragons flying without ridershow many friendly soldiers might they inadvertently harm?
A sudden, thunderous roar snapped her attention away from her thoughts. It was the ck dragon, Nymerion!
Danys head whipped around just in time to see Nymerion falling, a massive ice spear protruding from its neck. The weapon, five or six meters long, was unmistakablethe same kind of ice spear Viserys had warned her about so many times. Its sheer size and power were devastating.
Nymerion let out a pained, harrowing cry, its massive body writhing as it fought to stay alive. Among all the dragons, Nymerion had always been the most mischievous. Dany''s mind briefly shed back to the dragons younger days, filled with fond memories despite the chaos.
She remembered the time Nymerion had knocked over a frying pan while she was cooking with K. Infuriated, Dany had instinctively grabbed the pan and struck Nymerion on the head. To her surprise, it was astonishingly easy tond a hit on the dragons snout with the pan. Since then, Dany had joked that she could hit Nymerion from nearly 20 meters awaybut even now, whenever Nymerion saw her holding a pan, the dragon would shrink back instinctively, trying to hide.
No matter how naughty she was, Nymerion was still a Targaryen dragonDanys dragonand there was no question about what she had to do. She had to save it.
But first, she needed to find out where the ice spear hade from. Her eyes darted across the battlefield, searching for the source. Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine, from her tailbone to the top of her head. It was an unmistakable feeling, one that Viserys had described to her before.
"It feels like being locked in," she thought grimly.
Pull up! Pull up! Pull up! she shouted frantically, unsure whether Hermine or the riderless red dragon, Rhlloros, had been targeted. She knew only one thing: gaining altitude was the safest move. The three dragons ascended sharply, their wings cutting through the icy air at breakneck speed. Dany nced down in growing anxiety. Nymerion was still grounded, roaring in frustration and pain.
The ck dragon fought valiantly, using its ws and powerful bites to fend off the relentless swarm of wights surrounding it.
But Dany couldn''t ignore the grim reality of what she was witnessing. The ck dragon, her Nymerion, looked like a fragile butterfly under attack from an unending swarm of ants. Though it held its ground for now, Dany could see the ice spears pelting it in a cruel barrage. Individually, they werent fatal, but together, they were sapping the dragons strength and vitality.
Nymerion raised its head, her eyes locking onto Danys. In that moment, Dany could see its plea for help, a desperate cry that tore at her heart.
Tears welled in her violet eyes. She knew the truthif the Night King or the White Walkers wanted to, they could have killed Nymerion outright with more of the massive ice spears. They didnt.
They were baiting her.
"Outnk and attack the support," the term echoed in her mind, a lesson from Viserys on battlefield tactics.
Before she could decide her next move, another agonizing roar pierced the air. This time, it wasnt Nymerionit was Rhlloros, the red dragon. Danys heart clenched as she spotted it faltering in the sky. His flight became unsteady, but with great effort, it managed to stabilize.
Squinting, she saw the cause: a hole the size of a bowl had been pierced through his wing. While such an injury might have been fatal for a human, it wasnt as deadly for a dragon, especially since it hadnt hit a more critical area. Though clearly in pain, Rhlloros pushed through and continued flyinga small mercy in an otherwise dire situation.
Nymerions plight remained the most urgent. Just as Dany was about to act, a formation of knights d in ck armor stormed the battlefield below. It was the Order of the Dragons Wing! Eustace led over 200 heavily armored knights, their charge aimed directly at the wights surrounding the fallen ck dragon.
The cavalrys arrival invigorated Nymerion. It could sense the living essence of the knights and, with renewed spirit, shook off some of the attacking wights. Together, the dragon and the knights temporarily pushed back the immediate threat.
But it wasnt a solution. Nymerion was grounded, unable to take flight, and the White Walkers forces showed no sign of relenting. The encirclement was vast, and moving such a massive, injured creature out of danger would be no small feat. It seemed impossible.
Dany hovered above the battlefield, watching the knights fighting desperately to protect Nymerion. Eustace was at the forefront, his leadership evident as hemanded his men. Danys heart wavered. Should she order them to retreat to save their lives, or let them continue their stand?
She didnt know what to do.
If you zoom out to the battlefield, the fallen ck Dragon and the sudden appearance of the Dragonwing Knights have drastically curtailed the advance of the White Walkers'' forces. Their intervention has provided significant strategic breathing room for the retreating Night''s Watch and soldiers of the North.
At least 10,000 men have already joined therge army brought from the South. If the defenders can hold their ground a little longer, dozensperhaps even hundredsmore lives might be saved.
Sacrificing 300 men and a crippled dragon to save 1,000 lives or more
The sharp, eerie sound of projectiles slicing through the air interrupted Dany''s thoughts, like ghostly screams piercing the chaos. She shouted urgently in Hermine''s direction:
Hermine, be careful!
But there was no response. The position where Hermine had been just moments before was empty.
Danys heart clenched. Steering her dragon into a sharp turn, she scanned the skies and ground frantically. But Hermine was goneas if she had vanished into thin air.
Hermine! she called again, her voice cracking as panic wed at her chest.
Suddenly, a burst of light red to the northwest. There she wasHermineriding the Green Dragon. She hadunched a surprise attack on several Icebone Towers. Just as another Icebone Tower adjusted its aim, Hermine disappeared once more.
After a few heartbeats, she reappeared, this time near the ck Dragon, unleashing a torrent of dragon fire that set a cluster of wights aze. Then, just as suddenly as she had arrived, she vanished again.
Long live Prince Hermine!!!
Eustaces roar of triumph echoed across the battlefield. The Winged Knights around him cheered in unison, their morale surging.
Dany exhaled deeply, a wave of relief washing over her. At the same time, she was struck by how much had changed. Only three months ago, when she first encountered the Hermine sisters, they had been forced to live in hiding. She had never imagined they would develop so rapidly under Melisandres guidance. Their newfound strength offered hopehope that they could fight the White Walkers even more effectively in the battles yet toe.
But her thoughts were quickly interrupted. The ck Dragons peril was far from over.
Her eyes shifted to Viserysand her breath caught. The Yellow Dragons back was empty. Viserys was gone.
On the battlefield below, Viserys fought in close quarters with the White Walkers, the ground beneath him coated in frost and ice shardsthe remnants of fallen enemies.
Your Grace! Give me another hundred breaths! Benerro shouted from nearby.
Ill give you 150! Viserys called back, hardening his voice.
At this moment, the three dragons circled above, sweeping away the White Walkers on the outer perimeter. The ones still emerging from the Icebone Tower were weaker than expected, leading Viserys to believe he could hold out even longer. Yet, a troubling thought gnawed at him.
Could the Night Kings Icebone Tower actually house a teleportation array? The mere idea seemed absurd, but the evidence was piling up in unsettling ways.
By his count, he had already killed at least 200 White Walkersenough, by any estimation, to construct another seven-meter-high Icebone Tower. The sheer volume of White Walkers produced was irrational, bordering on the impossible. It reminded him of a game he once yed
Red Alert. Back then, hed been baffled at how an endless stream of soldiers could pour out of a single, tiny barracks that looked like nothing more than a flimsy tent.
No, that cant be it, he thought.
If the Night King really had a teleportation array, he wouldnt have needed to build that ice boat out of the Icebone Tower to cross the sea and encircle Neds army.
He shot a nce at Benerro. This wasnt the time to voice his suspicions; hed wait until he uncovered the truth behind the Icebone Tower.
Just then, he noticed something odd. The cracks at the towers base, which had been steadily producing White Walkers, had suddenly stopped.
Viserys stepped closer, peering cautiously into the dark fissures. Without warning, a st of icy steam erupted from the crack. He leapt back, narrowly avoiding it. From within the frost-filled haze, a figure emergedone Viserys recognized instantly.
The Night King.
The spiked crown atop his head, the piercing deep-blue eyes, his moon-pale skin, and armor of cial ice that seemed forged over millenniaall unmistakable.
Viserys froze for a moment, memories shing of their prior encounter. The Night King had once spoken to him through a Shadow Assassin, using it tomunicate from afar. Back then, the Night King had the upper hand, annihting the Shadow clone with ease. But now, there would be no intermediariesboth were here, in the flesh.
The sheer force of the Night Kings presence was palpable, rippling across the battlefield. Even Benerros group, not far off, felt the oppressive aura. It was as though they were standing at the heart of a storm, the Icebone Tower itself trembling under the weight of his power. Their focus on scanning the tower wavered, nearly breaking under the pressure.
The Night King spoke, his voice a chilling rumble in Valyrian. Viserys, why are you getting in my way?
Viseryss eyes narrowed, his mind reeling.
Valyrian? Why is he speaking Valyrian?
Chapter 422: Yet Another Dragonlord Family
Chapter 422: Yet Another Dragonlord Family
As far as Viserys knew, the words spoken by the Child of the Forest should have been in the ancientnguage. Even if the White Walkersbeings from the same era as the Childrendid not use the ancient tongue, there was no reason for their speech to be in Valyrian, anguage that had not emerged until thousands of yearster.
Previously, when the Night King hadmunicated with him through the wight puppet, he had used themon tongue. By all logic, he should have continued using it now. So why had he suddenly chosen to speak in Valyrian? Surely, he wasnt trying to unt his linguistic skills?
Caught off guard, Viserys remained silent for a moment before the Night King repeated his question:
Viserys, why are you standing in my way?
Why do you think? Viserys shot back. You treat us like livestock, so Im cutting a deal with someone else.
The Night King let out a disdainful snort. Hmph. Arent you Targaryens always eager to be Vystarionspdogs? Your ancestor Zynarion once imed it would be his greatest honor to serve House Vystarion. Are you now defying the teachings of your forebears?
Damn it. How poorly had the Targaryens fared in Valyria?
This was the second time someone had mocked his bloodline. The first had been Shiera. Of course, she hadnt meant it maliciously, but her words had revealed to Viserys that the Targaryens were little more than minor yers in Valyria.
The second time had been Bloodraven. Aenar Targaryen had entrusted the safety of his descendants to the Greenseer in exchange for House Targaryens survival, a fact that further underscored theirck of influence in Valyria.
And now, the third was the Night King.
This bluntness was infuriating, but Viserys decided to endure it. If the Night King was willing to engage in verbal sparring, Viserys could use it to buy time for Benerro and the others.
What a load of nonsense. House Vystarion? Never heard of it. Of course, Viserys had heard of itfrom Shiera, no less. Vystarions house was said to rival the Sennesta family. But to draw the Night King further into argument, Viserys decided to provoke his pride and let him borate.
Judging from the Night Kings mannerisms, it seemed he might have been a Valyrian once. That gave Viserys an angle to strike from.
Look at you nowhalf-human, half-ghostand you still dare to call yourself a Dragonlord? The Targaryens are thest true Dragonlords!
To his surprise, the Night King did not react with anger. Instead, heughed, a sound dripping with contempt. Even stranger, Viserys noticed that the severed heads adorning the Icebone Towers seemed to shift, mirroring the Night Kings expression. They stared at him, their frozen faces locked in the same mocking grin.
Hahaha, Dragonlord? Do you think that title means anything to me? The Night Kingsughter echoed eerily, his voice tinged with madness. Dragonlords, dragonsthey all grow old and die. But I am immortal!
His expression grew increasingly unhinged, reminiscent of the Undying Ones Viserys had encountered in Qarth. That brought Viserys a moment of relief. He knew all too well the nature of those who sought eternal lifethey were often delusional and vulnerable in their hubris.
With a manic glint in his eye, the Night King began to recount his transformation from a Valyrian Dragonlord to his current state. Valyria reigned supreme for five thousand years, but it never dared to set foot in Westeros. Do you know why? He sneered. The power of the Greenseer. The magic that severed the Arm of Dorne, a feat no Valyrian sorcery could rival. Fear of the Greenseer kept Valyria at bay.
He continued, his tone turning bitter. With nowhere to plunder, the Valyrians turned inward, and their conflicts grew fiercer. The louder the dragons roared, the louder the infighting became. My houseHouse Vystarionlost to House Sennesta. We were driven to the brink of extinction.
The Night Kings voice dropped, heavy with venom. Desperate, we turned to Westerosthe forbiddennd. We sent members of our house, those thought to be dead, to seek out the remnants of the White Walkers. None returned to Valyria. I was one of those sent to make contact.
His fists clenched, his face a mask of fervor. You cannot stop me, Viserys. Not with your dragons, not with your armies. I will sweep across Westeros, reim Valyria, and create beings greater than dragons!
Viserys studied him, unimpressed by the grandiose derations. The Night Kings fervor bordered on ecstasy, his excitement spilling over as his voice rose. But to Viserys, it was clearthis was the ranting of a madman.
He couldnt suppress a mockingugh. If this was the extent of the Night Kings power, then there was nothing to fear. He was just a lunatic consumed by his delusions.
As Viserys smirked, he noticed Benerro subtly signaling to him. The red priest hadpleted his assessment of the Icebone Towers structure. Their operation had seeded.
The Yellow Dragon, still circling above, descended with a mighty gust of wind. Its enormous wings scattered ice shards and debris from the White Walker Viserys had killed. Viserys turned back to the Night King with a sneer.
Alright then, you just keep on living forever
Before he could finish, the Night Kings form began to waver and fade, growing indistinct. It wasnt the invisibility magic he had seen Hali and Hermine use. No, this was more like the projection spell Quaithe had described to Daenerys.
Realization struck him like a blow.
This isnt the Night King. Its only his shadow!
Suddenly, an overwhelming and terrifying aura surged from the direction of Benerro and the red priests. The truth hit Viserys with brutal rity:
I thought I was stalling for time, but the Night King was the one stalling me!
He felt a sharp pang of shame for his earlier arrogance. He had underestimated the Night King, dismissing him as an overconfident fool. But the cunning behind this maneuver was undeniable.
Howughable, to think the disasters of this world were so simple.
Without hesitation, Viserys leapt forward, cing himself between the red priests and the oing threat. He collided with a blinding white mist of ice.
As the mist dispersed, two piercing azure eyes emerged, locking onto Viserys. This was the true Night King.
With his sword in hand, the Night King charged. Viserys met him head-on, their weapons igniting with mes and freezing with frost upon every sh. Each blow sent shockwaves through the air, apanied by deafening, nauseating crashes.
The Night King was the strongest opponent Viserys had ever faced. Their skills were evenly matchedneither could gain the upper hand. But Viserys knew the truth: though his stamina was formidable, he could not match the Night Kings relentless endurance. If the battle dragged on, he doubted he could hold out, let alone emerge victorious.
Get out of here! Viserys shouted at Benerro and the others during a brief pause in their exchange. But the distraction proved costly. The Night King seized the moment, driving a sharp kick into Viseryss waist and sending him hurtling into the Icebone Tower.
Viserys mmed into the grotesque structure, its broken limbs and jagged edges locking him in ce. Severed heads snapped at him, their icy jaws gnarling dangerously close. Summoning his strength, Viserys twisted violently, breaking free from the towers grip.
The Night King moved to attack the dragons and the red priests, but Viserys intercepted him before he couldnd a blow. Their swords shed again, the relentless sound of steel on steel echoing like a barrage of firecrackers.
Above, Benerro and the others had already taken to the skies on the back of the dragon. From their vantage point, they watched the battle below with growing trepidation. The sight of Viserys holding his ground against the Night King after having just ughtered over two hundred White Walkers was awe-inspiring. Benerro had considered that feat terrifying enough, but this battle was beyond anything he had imagined.
Hali, hovering nearby on her dragon, was equally astounded. No swordsman she had seen in Braavosno matter how skilledcould survive such a confrontation. Monterys, meanwhile, was filled with a mix of despair and admiration. He knew he could never match Viseryss prowess.
The battle raged on, and Viserys found himself frustrated. He had yet to fully understand how to wield the Lightbringer, the weapon Melisandre had forged for him. Over the years, he had tried countless methods, enduring blisters and wounds in his attempts to unlock its secrets. ording to Melisandre, the swords true power could only be awakened if it was plunged into its wielders body.
Despite Daeneryss objections, Viserys had tested this im in secret. He had driven the de through his own chest, only to find that while the sword retained its dazzling glow, it remained cold and inert. Perhaps the legends of Azor Ahai and Nissa Nissa held some truth.
The sword, however, was undeniably strong, and Viserys had entrusted it to Daenerys. She carried it with her now, and as the others hovered safely above, she urged her dragon closer to join the fight. Recing Monterys, she observed the ferociousbat below, looking for an opening to intervene.
The Night King, sensing her approach, turned his attention to Daenerys mid-fight. Ah, your wife. You Targaryen women were infamous in Valyria for offering yourselves to the highest bidder. If Valyria were still alive, she would be my concubine.
Viserys did not rise to the bait. He smirked, his voice calm and unshaken. Really? Ill defeat you, reim Valyria, and gather the bones of all the Dragonlords. You can die with the old Valyria. I will build a new one.
The Night Kings grin faded, his expression darkening. He quickened his attacks, but Viserys parried them all with precision. His calm response had rattled the Night King, who now understood that Viserys was no ordinary man.
At that moment, Daenerys descended from her dragon,nding beside Viserys. Unsheathing the
Lightbringer, she held it high. mes of yellow, red, and pink danced and shimmered along the de, illuminating the battlefield.
The Night King froze, his expression betraying shock. The Envoy of Light! he eximed, his voice filled with disbelief.
Viserys, equally surprised, nced at the sword. Could it be that Melisandre had truly created the
real Lightbringer?
Chapter 423: The Death of the Night King?
Chapter 423: The Death of the Night King?
The sight of the
Lightbringer in Daenerys''s hands clearly unsettled the Night King. He stared at the de as though confronting a mortal enemyor perhaps even his natural nemesis. For a fleeting moment, Viserys saw something unexpected in the Night King''s icy gaze: fear.
So, that thing really is the real deal, Viserys thought. His earlier doubts about the
Lightbringers authenticityonce only 30%now rose to 70%. Yet even in the face of his unease, the Night King maintained hisposure.
Despite holding the powerful weapon, Dany was unable to intervene in the furious duel between Viserys and the Night King. Their sh was a tempest, a storm of overwhelming force, and anyone who ventured too close would be torn apart. Dany, already showing signs of pregnancy, could only stand anxiously on the sidelines.
The intensity of the battle grew with every strike, the sound of weapons colliding reverberating like rolling thunder. Amid the chaos, Viserys shouted at Dany, his voice sharp with urgency:
Get out of here! Its dangerous!
Before she could respond, four new figures emerged near the Icebone TowerWhite Walkers, far more powerful than the rest. Viseryss heart sank. These were the same elite White Walkers he had fought as a shadow self recently. Their speed and strength were extraordinary, and the prospect of more than ten of them on the field was a nightmare he didnt even want to imagine.
Go! he bellowed again, swinging his halberd in a sweeping arc toward the Night King. The de cut through the air with a high-pitched, tooth-rattling whine.
The Night King recognized the force behind the strike and chose to dodge rather than block it. His piercing blue eyes glowed brighter as he looked toward the newly arrived White Walkers. In an instant, they charged at Daenerys as though following a silentmand.
The four white shadows moved in perfect synchrony, closing in from all directions. For a terrifying moment, Dany thought it was the end. Yet just as they were about to strike, something unexpected happened: the White Walkers stumbled and copsed at her feet.
One of their weapons had even grazed her deerskin boots. As Dany looked down in astonishment, she noticed something bizarretheir feet were fused with the ground. They werent standing; they were
stuck. The icy surface had somehow swallowed their lower legs, leaving only their tops visible, with some trapped below the ankles entirely.
Realizing the strange turn of events, Dany turned to nce at Viserys, who was once again locked inbat with the Night King.
Is this some new magic? Interesting, the Night King remarked, casting an almost curious look at his immobilized subordinates.
Meanwhile, Rharion, the silver dragon, swooped down from above, unleashing a torrent of dark dragonfire.
The mes flooded the ice cave, filling the air with zing heat. Dany stood unharmed amidst the inferno, protected by an invisible shielda testament to her abilities as both a warg and a fire mage. The mes danced harmlessly around her, licking at the ice without reaching her skin.
Elsewhere, the armies of the North and the Nights Watch were retreating, their objectivesrgely achieved. The Night Kings irritation was palpable; the operation was slipping from his grasp. He turned his cold, calcting gaze toward Daenerys, a snarl escaping his lips as he lunged toward her.
Rharion, her dragon, belched ck fire to intercept him, but the Night King, a non-burner like the Targaryens, advanced undeterred. His weapon swung toward Dany with deadly precision.
Before the blow couldnd, Viserys struck from behind, stabbing his halberd into the Night Kings back. The de barely managed to carve a half-inch gash in his icy armor.
Making a split-second decision, Viserys threw his weapon aside and tackled the Night King, locking his arms around him in a desperate embrace. The cold radiating from the Night Kings body was excruciating, sending violent shivers through Viserys, but he held on with iron resolve.
Then, with a horrifying crack, the Night Kings head rotated a full 180 degrees. Their noses were almost touching as the icy monarch stared directly into Viseryss eyes.
Youve fallen into my trap, Viserys, the Night King hissed.
Viseryss heart sank as he realized the ice armor on the Night Kings back had melted without his noticing. Their bodies were now fused together in a chilling embrace, chest against back. He tried to pull away but found himselfpletely immobilized.
The realization struck him like a thunderbolt: the Night King had learned the
Linking Spell that Viserys had just usedand not only that, but he had refined it. The sheer speed of his adaptation was terrifying.
Viseryss eyes flicked to the crown of ice thorns on the Night Kings head. Suddenly, he understoodit wasnt a crown at all. It was made of the horns of a dragon. The Night King, like himself, was a freak of nature, a being intertwined with dragons in ways Viserys couldnt yetprehend. With those horns, it was no wonder the Night Kings talent for magic was extraordinary.
The ice under them cracked ominously as the Night King began dragging Viserys toward the crevasse at the base of the Icebone Tower. His intentions were clear: he wanted to capture Viserys alive.
Both Viserys and Daenerys realized the danger at the same time. Dany rushed forward,
Lightbringer in hand, and shed at the Night Kings body.
Let him go! Let go of him! Let go!!!
The de, zing with yellow and red mes, struck against the Night Kings icy armor, but it barely left a mark. The sparks it produced were more dramatic than the damage it inflicted. His armor was too tough, too imprable.
Viserys, desperate to free himself, began silently reciting the counter-spell for the
Linking Spell. But it was useless. The Night Kings modified version of the spell was unrecognizable. He had already taken it beyond its original form.
As the Night King and Viserys neared the edge of the crevasseless than five meters awayDany struck with all her strength. Still, her attacks couldnt prate the ice armor. She was relentless, her blows sparking against the unyielding frost, but to no avail.
Viseryss mind raced, and a bold idea struck him. He shouted at Dany, his voice urgent:
Dany! Attack from my direction!
What? she replied, confused.
Through my body! His front isnt armored!
For a moment, her hesitation was palpable. Viseryss chest was pressed directly against the Night Kings back. The ice armor that protected him was intact everywhere except where their bodies were fused. If Dany wanted to strike the Night Kings vulnerable side, she would have to pierce through Viserys.
The Night King, hearing Viseryssmand, chuckled darkly. His thrust toward the crevasse grew more forceful. Youre full of surprises, Viserys, he murmured. But I wont kill you. Not yet.
Cut the crap! Viserys spat back, his voiceced with defiance. If you dont kill me, Ill kill you first!
Their faces were so close now that their noses almost touched. The icy breath of the Night King brushed against Viseryss skin, but he didnt flinch.
Above, the Yellow Dragon circled, raining fire down on the White Walkers and wights trying to intervene. Benerro and the others watched from the dragons back, his expressions was a mixture of horror and admiration.
Benerro muttered under his breath, This is the fate of Nissa Nissa.
From the sky, Hali watched the desperate scene and tried tond her dragon to help, but Viserys roared furiously, Get back there! Dont make things worse!
Hali froze in fear at hismand. Her dragon had already touched down, but she didnt dare dismount after Viseryss outburst. Instead, she turned her focus to the Icebone Tower, shouting amand to her dragon, Dracarys!
Viserys, caught up in the chaos, hadnt even considered this possibility. Thats a good idea! he admitted, rallying himself. The silver dragon nearby joined the attack, and two streams of dark dragonfire engulfed the tower. For a fleeting moment, it looked as if the strategy was workingcracks appeared, and the tower began to copse.
But before hope could take root, the Night King turned his head and exhaled a thick mist of ice. The freezing breath surged over the tower, sealing its cracks and restoring its integrity.
Dany and Hali, moments ago filled with hope, were crushed with despair once more. The
Lightbringer was their only option now.
I cant die! Viserys bellowed. Hurry!
But Dany hesitated, her hands trembling around the hilt of the
Lightbringer. She was torn, tears spilling from her violet eyes. She knew nothing of the
panel that Viserys had, nor could she imagine how he might survive such an attack.
Two meters from the crevasse. The cold air emanating from the crack was sharp and biting. Viserys braced his foot against the edge, straining every muscle to hold back the Night Kings relentless push.
One meter.
Suddenly, a w-like hand emerged from the icy crevasse and gripped Viseryss ankle, pulling it downward. He growled in defiance, shouting to Dany, Do it, Dany! Or do you want to leave our child without a father?
His rebuke broke through her paralysis. Determined, she positioned herself behind Viserys, her mind racing as she tried to avoid his vital organs. Summoning all her resolve, she plunged the glowing de of the
Lightbringer into Viseryss back. It passed through his abdomen and pierced into the Night Kings exposed chest.
The reaction was immediate. The Night Kings face contorted in agony, his blue eyes zing briefly before dimming.
Deeper! Viserys urged.
Dany pushed harder, driving the de further into both men. Nearly a third of the sword remained exposed, mes dancing along its edge.
The Night King let out a guttural, inhuman cry, a sound like shattering ss and copsing ciers.
Didnt think so, did you? Viserys sneered, meeting the Night Kings eyes in a final, triumphant mockery.
Cracks began to spread across the Night Kings body, starting from his neck and branching out like veins across his face and head. His icy form looked like a fractured sculpture, teetering on the brink of copse.
Boom!
Half of the Night Kings head exploded, shards of ice flying everywhere. Some struck Viseryss face, drawing blood, but he barely flinched. The Night Kings remaining lower face emitted a pitiful, ragged wail as his body continued to disintegrate.
The hand clutching Viseryss ankle suddenly weakened. Sensing his chance, Viserys shifted his weight, mming backward to drive the remaining third of the
Lightbringer deeper. The Night Kings arms, which had been wrapped around Viserys, exploded into fragments, scattering across the icy ground.
Piece by piece, the Night Kings body shatteredfirst the arms, then the legs, then the torsountil only chunks of ice of varying sizes remained. Some were as small as fists; others were asrge as a human head.
Freed from the Night Kings grip, Viserys staggered back from the crevasse, the
Lightbringer still lodged in his body. Dany hurried to his side as they prepared to leave.
Is the Night King dead? she asked, her voice trembling with hope and fear.
Viserys shook his head but said nothing, his expression unreadable.
Before he could borate, an ominous suction force erupted from the crack, pulling in every fragment of the Night Kings shattered remains. The icy pieces vanished into the abyss, leaving Viserys and Dany standing alone in the eerie silence.
Chapter 424: The First Battle Ends
Chapter 424: The First Battle Ends
Benerro, still perched on the dragons back, no longer cared about the prophecies. The supposed
Nissa Nissa, Viserys, had been pierced by the
Lightbringer, yet he was somehow still alive. Every time Benerro was certain of Viseryss imminent death, he defied all expectations and survived.
Desperate for answers, Benerro scoured his memory, searching for any ount of magic powerful enough to exin this. Nothing came to mind. His frustration mounted as he considerednding to examine Viserys, but hisck of skill in controlling the dragon left him stranded in the air.
Meanwhile, Viserys and Dany quickly retreated from the Icebone Tower. The Yellow Dragon, the Green Dragon, and the Silver Dragon unleashed torrents of dark dragonfire upon the tower. The inferno rained down relentlessly, but the Icebone Tower refused to yield, standing firm despite the relentless assault.
The intense sh near the tower barely registered across the vast battlefield, which spanned tens of li. Even the presence of three dragons couldnt distract the armies elsewhere; their attention was locked on the ongoing skirmishes.
The massive ice in remained a cacophony of battle cries and the shing of weapons. Yet something had changedthe wights and White Walkers, unlike in the stories or the TV series, did not disintegrate with the Night Kings apparent defeat. Instead, they began a gradual retreat.
Lord, the White Walkers behind us are retreating toward the ruins of the Wall, a Skinchanger reported to Ned Stark.
Ned, no longer at the makeshiftmand post in Moles Town, was riding south with his forces in retreat. Around him were wagons loaded with Skinchangers, their animals keeping watch on the battlefield.
The White Walkers are retreating? Ned repeated, confused. He didnt understand why the enemy would withdraw but weed the respite nheless. After what felt like an eternity of battle, the Northern forces desperately needed time to recover.
The sky overhead remained a dull gray, teetering on the edge of nightfall. Yet, for months, true night had nevere. The unending, oppressive twilight had worn on everyones morale.
Jaime Lannister swung his de in wide arcs, his movements sluggish from exhaustion. He had long since lost count of how many White Walkers and wights hed in. Yet now, for the first time in hoursor was it days?the relentless assault began to falter.
His sharp, azure eyes scanned the battlefield, dazed. Among the retreating figures, a familiar silhouette caught his attention: Jon Snow.
Jon himself could no longer feel fatigue. His movements were mechanical, his sword rising and falling purely on instinct. He had pushed far beyond his limits, fighting on borrowed time.
But even in his haze, Jon noticed the change. The onught was weakening. Yet he didnt dare stop swinging his dehe knew that the moment he paused, he wouldnt have the strength to start again.
As the retreat became evident, Jon gave chase, hacking at the fleeing White Walkers. But their withdrawal was deliberate, and they quickly outpaced him. Defeated, Jon mmed his sword into the frozen ground and gasped for air, his chest heaving violently.
Nearby, the Nights Watch observed the retreat with growing certainty. Though the attacks remained methodical, it was clear that the White Walkers and wights had received some kind of order.
In the Riverrun army, Gan and Randyll Tarly were among the freshest troops, having joined the battleter. Their forces, less fatigued than others, were tempted to pursue the retreating enemy.
But Randyll Tarly, with his decades of battlefield experience, quickly stopped them. Hold your ground! he barked, ensuring no one overextended in reckless pursuit.
Looking down from above, the retreating White Walkers split into three groups: one heading east toward the coast, another west, and the third moving toward the ruins of the Wall.
The relentless dragonfire finally took its toll. The Icebone Tower began to crumble, cracks spiderwebbing through its structure. Atst, it copsed, sending shards of ice and bone scattering across the ground.
This time, Viserys did not stop Hali fromnding.
Dany, take Benerro and the others and go first. Hali, give me Qinaerys (the green dragon). Ill go save Nymerion.
But, Brother, you
Dany and Hali looked visibly distressed, their eyes fixed on the Lightbringer still embedded in Viseryss abdomen.
Viserys nced down at the radiant sword, its three-foot de protruding from his torso. Strangely, there was no blood on it. The Lightbringer, which had pierced through both him and the Night King simultaneously, still gleamed with an unnatural brilliance.
He touched the de and felt warmth radiating from itnot a searing heat, but something akin to body temperature. It was a stark contrast to the icy chill it had held before.
Does the swords enchantment require both my blood and the Night Kings? he wondered.
With a steady hand, Viserys gripped the de and pushed it further into his abdomen before pulling it outpletely. The motion made Dany and Hali wince, their worry etched on their faces.
He opened his stats panel and saw his Health had dropped to 40. His Constitution had also taken a significant hit, but with hundreds of thousands of free attribute points at his disposal, he restored himself to full strength almost instantly. To reassure them, he twisted his waist lightly and smiled.
Dont worry about me. Im fine.
Seeing that he truly appeared unharmed, Dany burst into tears and threw herself into his arms.
Afterforting her, Viserys gently patted Hali on the head. Hali, I shouldnt have yelled at you earlier. But this ce is really dangerous.
Hali shook her head, cing a small hand on his stomach. Father, I was reckless. I know youre worried about me.
They exchanged a few more words of reassurance before preparing to part ways.
Dany mounted the Silver Dragon with Hali and the Yellow Dragon, heading toward Winterfell. Meanwhile, Viserys climbed onto the Green Dragon, Qinaerys, to rescue Nymerion.
As he flew, Viserys surveyed the ground below. The White Walkers and their wights were retreating, but he quickly realized the threat wasnt over.
If they can build ice boats to bypass defenses here, they could attack the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea just as easily.
The Free Cities had been his intended fallback base, but now they were at risk. Once the North was secure, hed need to visit the Free Cities personally, especially the coastal ones, and ensure they sent ships for patrols.
Soon, he spotted Nymerion, the ck Dragon, on the battlefield. It was grounded, roaring in pain, its massive wings dragging uselessly like those of an injured bird. Around it, White Walker cavalry shed with the remaining members of the Order of the Dragons Wings.
The once-300-strong Order had been reduced to fewer than a hundred. Viserys noted grimly that the Lord of Crackw Point had made the right decision in pledging loyalty. His valor and sacrifice would deserve a generous reward.
Nymerion sensed Qinaeryss approach and weakly raised its head, its golden eyes pleading for help. Just then, a White Walker hurled an ice spear that pierced its chest, drawing another pained cry.
Viseryss rage ignited. He dove on Qinaerys, unleashing torrents of fire that turned the White Walkers to ice mist. At the lowest point of the dragons dive, he leaped to the ground andnded beside Nymerion.
Its dark scales were slick with blood, pooling beneath it in rming amounts. The gaping wound on its neck was particrly horrifying, and itsbored breathing signaled the severity of its injuries.
Nymerion looked at him with golden eyes full of pain and sorrow, like a child seeking sce after being cruelly hurt. It lowered its massive head and gently nuzzled him.
If dragons could cry, Viserys thought, it would be weeping now.
He stroked its head soothingly, his gaze shifting toward the ongoing battle. The Order of the Dragons Wings was still fighting valiantly, but Eustace had fallen, and his son Lync had takenmand.
Lync, muddy and battered, looked up and beamed when he saw Viserys. Your Grace! Please, take the dragon and leave! Well hold off these monsters for you!
Viserys felt a wave of emotion as he watched Lync, bloodied but unyielding, standing against the tide of death.
Lync, buy me some time, and Ill take you all with me when we leave!
Yes! Lync shouted in reply, swinging his sabre with practiced precision and cutting down a wight that lunged toward the ck Dragon.
Viserys moved to Nymerions neck, where a massive five-meter-long ice spear had pierced through. Thankfully, it had missed its vital arteries; otherwise, it wouldnt havested this long.
Gently stroking its scales to calm her, Viserys gripped the spear. The cold radiating from it was intense, biting into his hands. With a deep breath, he pulled back with all his strength.
Nymerion let out a piercing wail of pain, its ws gouging deep furrows in the ground as its tail iled violently. Despite his efforts, the spear didnte free at once.
Its flesh was extraordinarily tough, and Viserys was forced to withdraw the weapon bit by bit. After what felt like an eternityten strained breathshe finally yanked it free and hurled it toward a White Walker Knight. The sheer force sent both the Knight and his undead horse flying.
The remaining smaller ice spears lodged in her body were easier to remove, though Nymerion still flinched and snarled in pain with each one. Once thest was gone, Viserys immediately cast blood magic to heal its wounds.
In under five minutes, Nymerions breathing steadied, its golden pupils brightened, and its immense form seemed to regain its vitality. It nudged Viserys affectionately, its massive head pressing gently against him.
He stroked its muzzle, whispering soothing words before mounting it once again.
The sight of the ck Dragon taking flight reignited the spirits of Lync and the Knights of the Dragons Wings. Cheers erupted from the exhausted warriors, their fears momentarily forgotten. The thought of the Night King iming Nymerion had been a chilling prospect, but now, with its fiery strength restored, hope surged anew.
From Nymerions back, Viserys unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, obliterating wights and White Walkers alike. With the path ahead cleared, Lync rallied the surviving knights, urging them to press forward under the cover of mes.
Nymerion, furious from her earlier wounds, seemed to channel her anger into her attacks. Her dragonfire burned with unparalleled intensity, hotter and more devastating than ever before. Entire swathes of the enemy were reduced to ash, clearing a way for the battered armies to retreat.
By the time the day-long battle drew to a close, the battlefield was a wastnd of charred corpses and shattered ice. The cost, however, was staggering.
Of the original 10,000 Nights Watch, only 6,000 remained. The Norths 15,000-strong army had suffered even greater losses, with over half its forces decimated.
The noble families of the North had been hit hardestnearly two-thirds of their members perished in the fighting. Not a single Northern noble over the age of 40 had survived the carnage. Robb Stark had fallen as well, leaving his younger brother Bran to carry the banner of the Direwolf.
Bran, with his striking resemnce to Edmure Tully, caused some confusion among the soldiers from the Reach who had been conscripted into the Nights Watch. Nevertheless, he quickly consolidated the remnants of Winterfells forces and reassured them.
The White Walkers retreated, he reminded them firmly. That means we can win.
In contrast, the reinforcements brought by Viserys fared much better. Of the 20,000 troops hemanded, fewer than 2,000 had been killed or wounded. Thete-arriving army from Dorne, dyed by their journey, reached the battlefield near White Harbor only to find the battle all but over.
What greeted them were the smoldering remains of wights and the lifeless, charred bodies of the fallen.
More than 40,000 men gathered at Deepwood Motte shortly afterward.
The decision to make Deepwood Motte the assembly point was twofold: it was the closest fortress to the battlefield, and its proximity to the Last River, now frozen over, allowed the wounded to be transported efficiently by sled. However, the fortress itself could not house such a massive army. Only the nobles, officers, the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, and his guards were amodated within the walls. The rest of the army had to camp outside.
This marked the second time the Dragonlords had visited Deepwood Motte, the first being when Queen Alysanne hade riding her dragon, Silverwing. Now, Viserys and Hermine arrived with four dragons, making the event no less momentous.
Inside the hall of Deepwood Motte, hundreds of Westerosi nobles assembled. The flickering firelight caught on their polished armor, lending the rugged castle an almost regal splendor. Viserys sat at the head of the hall, his posturemanding as he addressed the gathered lords.
My lords, he began, his voice solemn, we have all paid a terrible price in this battle. We have lost blood rtives, brothers, and sisters. Let us rise and pray for their souls.
He stood, bowing his head in silence, and the hall followed his lead. The weight of loss was palpable. Bran, Rickon, and Jons eyes welled with tears as Robbs face came to mind. Ned Stark, however, remained stoic, his expression unreadable as he stared down at his boots. Yet his gray eyes betrayed an inner storm of grief.
The North and the Nights Watch had borne the brunt of the losses, suffering devastating casualties. Over half their forces had been killed, and thousands morey wounded. Inparison, the southern nobles fared better, though their moment of silence seemed directed more toward the sacrifices of their northern allies than their own kin.
For Edmure, Viseryss words about losing blood rtives struck a particr chord. After all, Viserys himself was the only surviving adult male of House Targaryen. Even his sister, Daenerys, fought on the frontlines despite her pregnancy, and Viserys had brought his two young daughters into the conflict. Though the royal family had emerged unscathed, theirmitment to the war could not be questioned.
Nearby, the Red Viper cast a nce at the northern nobles standing in the front row. Viserys had ensured that even a knight who had survived the battle was given a ce of honor. No one challenged this decision. The ferocity of the battle had be clear through the grim ounts shared in whispers. Thebined losses of the Nights Watch and the northern army would have broken most forces, but the dragons morale-boosting presence and the White Walkers refusal to ept surrender had kept them fighting.
Viserys eventually lifted his head. Many in the crowd, particrly the Northerners, felt that no amount of silence could truly ease their pain. Sensing this, he spoke softly, My lords, please be seated.
As his words broke the silence, the lords and knights returned to their seats, the clinking of armor filling the hall.
We have paid a great price in this battle, Viserys continued, his voice steady but resolute. But we have also achieved great sess. I bring good news. Soon, we will have the weapons needed to confront the Icebone Tower. Our bows and crossbows will prove invaluable in the battles toe!
Chapter 425: The Savior’s Appearance
Chapter 425: The Saviors Appearance
"If only we had bows and arrows, we could have saved so many lives!"
"Yeah! If I had a bow and arrow, I couldve taken down at least ten more White Walkers!"
"Damn this weather. It''s freezing."
"Its all because of that cursed Icebone Tower!"
For Edmure, amander whose expertisey in archery, losing ess to crossbows was akin to losing his arms. Though his own skill with a sword was mediocre, his ability to lead andmand archers was unmatched. While he couldn''t wield the weapons himself, his battlefield awareness was exceptional.
Edmure believed that with a thousand archers at hismand, he could have eliminated at least 10,000 more wights. This notion lifted the spirits of those around him. The inability to use crossbows had significantly diminished theirbat effectiveness. Most White Walkerscked substantial armor, and if they had been able to deploy the obsidian-tipped arrows and bows as nned, the casualties inflicted on the Night King''s forces would have been devastating.
A rough estimate suggested they had already taken down nearly 300,000 wights and White Walkers in the battle. If crossbows had been in y, that number could have exceeded 400,000. As Edmure voiced these thoughts, Red Vipers eyes glimmered, recalling something he had seen at the Dragonpit.
He remembered the dark, rune-covered skull at the Dragon Gate, adorned with golden inscriptions.
That must be the weapon Viserys had mentioneda countermeasure against the Icebone Tower. While the construction of the Dragonbone Tower wasnt a secret, what Viserys had concealed was the production of cannons.
Viserys had been quietly amassing an arsenal of over 3,000 Ming Dynasty-style red cannons. Since the end of the Restoration War, iron production had surged repeatedly, driving prices higher and higher. Yet, due to the technological limits of this world, only smoothbore cannons could be producedrifled guns were still out of reach. Likewise, explosive shells remained beyond their grasp, leaving the current cannons with limited power and uracy.
Still, with the cannons he had at his disposal, Viserys was preparing for an annihting strike against the Night King when the time was right. However, that was a matter for the future. For now, he had a more pressing and electrifying announcement to share.
Setting aside the radiant envoy, Viserys turned to the gathered crowd and dered, "You may all be wondering why the Night King''s army suddenly retreated. The reason is simple: I defeated the Night King."
His wordsnded like a spark in dry straw, igniting a flurry of excitement among the nobles and officers.
"Your Grace defeated the Night King?"
"Well survive the Long Night for sure now!"
"Your Grace must be Azor Ahai!"
"Long live His Grace!"
The murmurs quickly coalesced into a unified cheer, but just as they were about to shout in unison, Viserys raised his hand, cutting through the noise.
"To be precise," he added with deliberate rity, "I defeated the Night King
together with the Queen."
The distinction gave pause to some of the nobles. A few exchanged questioning nces, while Red Viper shot a sidelong look at Manfrey, as if silently asking why Viserys feltpelled to share the credit. As emperor, he could have imed the glory for himself, and Dany likely wouldnt have objected.
On the other hand, Quentyn gazed at Viserys with newfound admiration. To him, such openness and humility marked the kind of monarch worth following. Gan, meanwhile, didnt dwell on the matter. As the military leader of House Tyrell, he preferred to leave such political nuances to his grandmother, the formidable Old Rose.
Ned Stark, however, remained pensive, his eyes fixed thoughtfully on the sword in Viseryss hand.
Viserys continued, his voice calm but resolute:
"Not only did I defeat the Night King, but I also dealt him a severe wound. I doubt the White Walkers will attack us again anytime soon."
The room fell silent for a moment, his words sinking in. Viserys hesitated to borate further, knowing that describing the Night King''s impalement and subsequent dismemberment would seem fantastical to those unacquainted with magic. He shifted the focus.
"But for now, they still hold a significant number of Icebone Towers. The extreme cold generated by those towers prevents us fromunching arge-scale offensive. To counter this, we need weapons crafted from Dragonbonean essential material. Thats why I have decided to travel to Valyria myself..."
Before he could finish, the room erupted in murmurs. Concerned nces were exchanged among the nobles, their faces etched with worry. Valyria, once a pinnacle of civilization, was now a ce of death and despair. No Targaryen had ventured into the Doom since Arianne''s ill-fated journey with the ck Dread, which had left her gravely injured.
Your Grace, Jon Snow interjected, his voice steady but concerned. You can send others to mine the Dragonbone. Theres no need for you to go yourself.
The room grew quiet again. Jon Snow was no longer seen as a mere ''royalckey.'' His early detection of the White Walkers encircling maneuver had saved countless lives. Though only fifty of the five hundred men stationed at Icebreaker Castle survived, Jons bravery had earned him the respect of all.
"Yes, Your Grace," added Mors Umber, Greatjon''s cousin. "Theres no need to endanger yourself."
Other voices of agreement followed, including that of Ned Stark. Rising to his feet, Ned urged, "Your Grace, please reconsider." Bran and Rickon quickly stood as well, and their actions prompted the northern lords to join. Soon, the southern nobles followed suit.
The consensus was clear: no one wanted Viserys to leave Westeros. His presence, as the man who had vanquished the Night King, provided a sense of safety.
Viserys raised a hand to quiet the crowd. "Everyone, the Queen will remain here in Westeros to lead the fight against the White Walkers. When I was still a sellsword, I ventured into Valyria and returned with a dragons egg and a suit of Valyrian steel armor. I know the path and have walked it safely before."
This revtion caused the nobles to exchange nces. They now understood why Viserys had credited both himself and Dany for defeating the Night King: he wanted to reassure them of her capability. Yet despite his reasoning, doubts lingered. Entrusting a pregnant woman with leading the defense of Westeros against the White Walkers seemed precarious.
Viserys made a surprising move to address these concerns. Turning to Ned Stark, he said firmly, "Lord Ned."
The mention of his name caught Ned off guard. He had been mourning the loss of his son, and now Viseryss focus on him felt both unexpected and heavy.
Descending from the main seat, Viserys extended his gleaming weapon to Ned.
"Everyone," Viserys dered, his tone unwavering, "during my absence, the defense of the North will rest in the hands of Lord Commander Ned Stark. If you need anything, consult the Queen."
Ned stared at the sword, then at Viserys, before sinking to one knee. "Your Grace, the Starks have been Wardens of the North for centuries. I will fulfill my duty. But if you are determined to go to Valyria, please, exercise the utmost caution."
Neds words carried the weight of reluctant eptance. He knew Viseryss reputation all too well. The songs sung of his exploits painted him as a man who achieved the impossible. As an adviser, there was little more Ned could do than offer his loyalty and prayers for his safe return.
With Ned taking the lead, the rest of the nobles followed suit. Many stepped forward, urging Viserys to assemble an elite escort of the strongest swordsmen and warriors. Some even proposed their own heirs to apany him, seeing it as an opportunity for glory and allegiance.
Watching the spectacle, Red Viper couldnt help but marvel. Even the lords of Dorne, who rarely involved themselves in northern matters, were eagerly offering their best to join the expedition. He realized that this was what the savior of Westeros looked likea figure to whom everyone clung.
If this is the saviors bloodline, he thought,
then it is more valuable than any emperors lineage.
His gaze drifted to Hermine, standing beside Viserys. With her light brown hair and striking purple-green eyes, she was undeniably beautiful.
I hope he remembers the marriage agreement, Red Viper mused.
Ariannes son is already four years old. Surely Viserys wouldnt object to uniting their families through marriage?
In contrast, the northern nobles had no patience for such thoughts. Their priority was survival.
"Lord Stark," Viserys reassured with a smile, "do not worry. I will return safely, and Ill bring back more than enough Dragonbone to counter the Icebone Towers."
The nobles offers of goodwill were epted graciously. Viserys would be leading an expedition of 20,000 to 30,000 people to Valyria, with room for a few hundred loyal retainers. He saw no harm in taking some of their rmendationsit was a show of loyalty, after all.
Chapter 426: Margaery’s Invitation
Chapter 426: Margaerys Invitation
King''s Landing, Red Keep.
Roth Zalyne paced back and forth in the dimly lit reception room of the Red Keep, his nervous energy almost palpable. The flickering light from the torches made his eyes strain, adding to his unease. asionally, his gaze drifted to the window where the dragon banner fluttered in the wind, a stark reminder of the man he was about to face. His thoughts spiraled back ten years to the day he first crossed paths with Viserys Targaryen.
Back then, Viserys had been a boy of fifteen or sixteen, an orphan of House Targaryen, and a fugitive embroiled in conflict with House Fregar over the soap trade, thanks to the Moonshadow.
Seeking refuge, the young Targaryen had turned to House Zalyne for help. Roths wife, Methys, had seized the opportunity and signed a contract with Viserys, splitting the profits of the soap business. At the time, House Zalyne had ns to monopolize the business eventually. But fate had other ideas.
Barely six months after leaving Braavos, Viserys had pulled off the audacious ckwater pirate heist, rocketing him to prominence as the second-inmand of the Windblown mercenary group. Within a year, he seized control of Tyrosh, and by the fourth year, he had hatched a dragon and dered himself Emperor of Tyrosh. The meteoric rise left Roth and House Zalyne stunned.
At the time, House Zalyne was nearing ruin. Roth, desperate to tether his lineage to the power of the Dragonlords, had entertained the idea of Viserys marrying into his family. When Viserys fathered children with the famed courtesan Falia at House Zalyne''s stronghold, Roth saw another opportunity.
Falia gave birth to twin daughters, and Roth was overjoyed, stationing guards at her residence and scheming to have his son marry one of the girls. He reasoned it was a win-win n: Viseryss bloodline would remain connected to House Zalyne, and the union would be born of mutual consent.
But Roths confidence wavered as he reyed the details in his mind. The w in his scheme was ringViserys had never been told about the daughters. Hed only discovered their existence after arriving in Braavos, where an attempted abduction of the girls nearly seeded. Roth fainted upon hearing the news. In the aftermath, his actions as the Sealord to uncover and punish the perpetrators had upended Braavos, even forcing the Iron Bank to yield to his demands.
The timing of the revtion couldnt have been worse. Just as Roth was preparing to confess everything to Viserys, the Long Night had descended, postponing their reckoning until now.
His Grace is not a petty man. The River Mander Alliance is proof of that, Methys said gently, trying to reassure her husband. Time had left a few fine lines around her eyes, but her poise and wisdom were as steady as ever. Methys had always believed in seizing opportunities, a trait she shared with Roth. She was confident Viserys would not resent their past dealings, as House Zalynes involvement had ultimately benefited him. Without their support, Falia might never have thrived in the perfume trade, nor found stability amidst Braavoss cutthroat politics.
But then again, people change. Could the same be true for Viserys?
As the couple stewed in their apprehension, the heavy curtain was drawn aside. Two maids entered, their movements precise and deliberate, followed by a striking woman with brown hair and piercing eyes. She wore an elegant green dress thatplemented hermanding presence. It was none other than Margaery Tyrellnow Margaery Targaryen, Viseryss concubine and a woman of formidable influence.
Margaery was no mere ornament. Her keen understanding of human nature and her ability to manipte circumstances to her advantage rivaled even Daenerys. Where persuasion and diplomacy were concerned, she was House Targaryens most valuable asset.
Margaery wasnt alone. By her side was her young son, Duncan, a living testament to her union with the Dragon Emperor.
"Lord Roth, Lady Methys," Margaery seized the moment while the couple remained in a brief daze to speak first.
"Princess Margaery," the Roths quickly returned the greeting, bowing their heads politely.
Noticing it was Margaery who had arrived rather than Viserys, the two seemed slightly disappointed. After the brief introduction, Margaery continued with aposed smile:
"Now that the legendary Long Night has truly befallen our generation, His Grace and the Queen remain in the North, leading the army against the White Walkers. As such, I will be receiving the Prince and his wife. I trust the Prince will not take offense."
Roth hastily waved his hand, his tone sincere. "The White Walkers are a threat to us all. His Grace and the Queen fight for every one of ushow could anyone hold that against you?"
"Yes, mydy, please dont trouble yourself over such thoughts," Methys added earnestly.
Margaery nodded gracefully. "Very well. His Grace has asked me to convey two crucial matters."
"Mydy, please go on," Roth replied, leaning forward slightly, an intentional disy of respect.
Margaery, rying the contents of Viserys''s letter, informed them that the White Walkers were likely to cross the sea, potentially endangering Braavos and even the entirety of the Free Cities.
The news made Roth''s heart sink. He had assumed that the worst-case scenario would see the White Walkers overrun Westeros entirely, leaving the Free Cities untouched. Now, it seemed they too were at risk. Methys, listening intently, grew visibly uneasy.
Years prior, before the White Walkers'' full-scale invasion, a few wights had been captured and sent to the Free Cities to demonstrate their threat to the nobles. The sight of the undead had left many terrifiedthese creatures, only kible through decapitation or burning, had haunted the dreams of many. Some nobles had fallen ill with fevers from sheer fear after witnessing them. Methys herself, shaken by the experience, had ordered the entire river channel in Braavos dredged to remove any corpses.
I thought we had taken sufficient precautions. Who could have imagined these horrors might cross the Narrow Sea? Methys thought grimly.
"Mydy, rest assured," Roth said with determination, breaking the tense silence. "As soon as we return, we will immediately organize a fleet to blockade the Narrow Sea!"
Margaery gave an approving nod before continuing. "The second matter concerns His Graces ns for an expedition to Valyria to mine dragonbone."
This news was less shocking to the couple. They were already aware of the Dragonbone Tower project and admired Viseryss bold vision and willingness to take risks for the greater good. Margaery exined that Viserys intended to take 20,000 to 30,000 people on this expedition. However, due to the need to prioritize supplies for the Northern frontlines, the financial burden of this venture would fall on Braavosor perhaps on House Zalyne.
Roth felt a wave of relief upon hearing this. His concern had been less about punishment and more about potential recement. If Viserys was merely seeking financial support, it suggested the matter would not escte further.
This isnt truly punishment, Roth mused to himself.
The Iron Banks downfall has left wealth aplenty. Contributing some of it is only natural.
"Mydy, have no doubtI will ensure the necessary funds for His Grace''s expedition are provided in time," Roth promised earnestly.
With the official matters addressed, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Margaery, Roth, and Methys discussed their daily lives, sharing anecdotes and asionallyughing together, creating a warm and harmonious atmosphere.
Amid the lighthearted conversation, Margaery suddenly remarked, "I heard that the prince''s daughter is already six years old. Why not consider sending her to the royal academy in Kings Landing? She would have more ymates among the other princes and children of the court."
Chapter 427: Return to the Palace of Sorrow
Chapter 427: Return to the Pce of Sorrow
Margaery''s invitation, which was clearly an extension of Viseryssmand, immediately eased any lingering concerns the Roths might have had. Both Margaery and the Roths were perceptive individuals, and without explicitly acknowledging it, they had defused a potential long-standing tension. The meeting ended on a note of mutual understanding and relief.
A few dayster, after the Roths had departed, Viserys returned to Kings Landing with Daenerys and their dragon. Shortly after, Malora arrived, apanied by the warlocks chosen from the High Tower.
Your Grace, we can now deploy 313 warlocks skilled in casting binding spells, Malora reported formally. This is nearly the entirety of the High Towers magical resources.
For the impending expedition to Valyria, Viserys had effectively emptied the High Tower of its most capable mages. Yet, he was determined not to leave behind the formidable Shadowbinder, Melisandre, whose abilities were critical.
Despite this impressive assembly, Viserys was not fully reassured. He vividly recalled Euron Greyjoys harrowing ounts of encountering Firewyrms in Valyria, along with countless other monstrous creatures. Then there were the sea monsters in the Smoking Sea, and the enigmatic entity that had stolen a fragment of Eurons soula threat that likely still lingered.
In a quiet moment, Viserys leaned closer to Daenerys and whispered, I want to go to the Pce of Sorrow.
The Pce of Sorrow, located within the ruins of Chroyane, held significant importance for Viserys. It was where he had previously defeated a Horselords army and executed its leader. More recently, it had be the site where he sessfullybined blood magic and water magic. Now, he hoped to revisit Chroyane to explore the ruins of Valyria with the enigmatic Shrouded Lady, Valsha, who had once aided him.
The more allies he could rally for the perilous journey, the better. Unfortunately, Viserys had been unable to contact Quaithe, the shadowy figure who had previously shown interest in Daenerys. Despite this, he wouldnt have objected to taking her along if she could be found.
Daenerys did not respond directly to his n. Instead, she gazed into his eyes, took his hand, and ced it gently on her noticeably rounded belly.
Our second child, she said softly, have you chosen a name yet?
She knew there was no convincing Viserys to abandon his quest. Her only hope was that this reminder of what awaited him at home would encourage him to exercise greater caution.
Through her blood magic, Daenerys had already discerned the childs gendera boy. She silently hoped the child would be born by the time Viserys returned.
What do you think of Rhaegar? Viserys asked, offering the name of their fallen brother.
Daenerys nodded. The name mattered little to herpared to the safety of her only remaining sibling. All she wanted was for Viserys to return alive.
The journey from Kings Landing to Chroyane would typically take a little over a day by dragon. However, Viserys nned to fly at a more measured pace due to poor visibility, estimating a two-day trip to Chroyane. Factoring in the return journey, he anticipated being away for no more than seven days. Even if the fleet set sail during his absence, he was confident he could catch up before they reached their destination.
After minimal preparations, Viserys set off alone, leaving Kings Landing astride his dragon. He carried no entourage, trusting in his mounts strength and his own resolve.
Crossing the Narrow Sea, Viserys noticed the skies above Essos were slightly clearer than those over Westeros. The brightening sky allowed him to reach Chroyane a few hours ahead of schedule.
Peering down at the ruins, which were perpetually cloaked in a dense gray mist, Viserys guided his dragon directly toward the Pce of Sorrow.
It was in this pce, years earlier, that Viserys had struck a desperate bargain with Valsha to ensure his victory over the Horselord. In exchange for her assistance, he had agreed to remain with her for a thousand years. Despite his newfound mastery over the fusion of blood and water magic, he had yet to find a way to sever Valshas binding contract.
What happens a hundred years from now, we''ll cross that bridge when wee to it.
Viserys took a deep breath and rode his dragon to the ruined square of the Pce of Sorrow. The view was unchanged from when he had arrived seven years ago. The crumbling pce looked as if it would remain in this decayed state for centuries. Stone pirs in the square were covered in cracks and moss, while the ground remained littered with the corpses of those consumed entirely by grayscale.
When Viserys urged the yellow dragon to fly toward the central hall, the creature halted halfway.
Fly, Wealthbringer! What''s wrong with you? Why are you sozy? Viserys scolded, though inwardly he acknowledged his ownziness in wanting to avoid extra steps. He felt hypocritical, yet he noticed something unusual: the yellow dragon wasnt simply reluctanthe seemed deeply afraid.
It was as if the hall ahead harbored something monstrous, air of demons or a dragons predator. Wealthbringers wings hung half-spread, his thick ws scraping nervously at the stone floor, leaving deep gouges. His long, powerful tail pressed tightly against the ground, and his head twisted restlessly, his bronze eyes turning toward Viserys with a pleading expression, filled with worry.
The dragons demeanor was almost childlike, begging its master to leave and return home.
Viserys sighed. He understood he would have to go to the Pce of Sorrow on his own. He recalled that several half-dead dragons remained inside, about the same size as Wealthbringer.
Sliding off the dragons back, he addressed him gently. If youre scared, go wait for me outside.
At this, Wealthbringer spread his wings as if ready to flee but hesitated. Shaking his head, he crouched on the ground, refusing to leave despite his fear.
Good boy, Viserys murmured, stroking his dragons head with gratitude, the memory of finding the egg in a pirates haul shing briefly in his mind. Wealthbringer responded by nudging his chest with his massive head, a gesture of loyalty and affection.
Afterforting the dragon, Viserys turned his focus to the central hall of the Pce of Sorrow. He recalled that only Valsha, a few half-dead dragons, and some equally half-dead Valyrians resided within. No one else should have been present at this time.
Then why is Wealthbringer so frightened? he wondered. The only exnation that came to mind was Valsha, the Shrouded Lady.
Steeling himself, Viserys walked toward the hall. His boots echoed against the cracked stone steps with a rhythmic tter. As he entered the dim interior, the sound grew louder, reverberating off the walls.
ss chandeliers illuminated the hall, casting light on every detail. Intricate reliefs and patterns adorned the walls, and behind the throne, several dragons continued to spew grey mist into the air. But the throne itself was empty.
Where is Valsha?
Viserys had assumed the dragons were fearful of her presence. If she wasnt here, then someoneor somethingfar more powerful might have taken over. A cold dread crept over him, and he began to turn away.
But before he could leave, a figure materialized silently behind hima face wrapped in brownish-grey strips, like a mummy. The eyes, grey-green and unsettling, rolled unnaturally in their sockets.
It was her. If it wasnt Valsha, who else could it be?
Our agreement was to wait until you were a hundred years old before returning, and now you cant wait? Valshas tone dripped with mockery.
Viserys, startled by her sudden and silent appearance, quicklyposed himself. Princess Valsha, he began, I was actually nning to go to the Doom Ruins.
Chapter 428: Valsha’s Dragon
Chapter 428: Valshas Dragon
Viserys recounted his experiences battling the wights, sharing his worries and concerns. He also mentioned the Dragonbone Tower. Valsha listened intently, her expression calm but intrigued, as though she were hearing an entertaining tale rather than a plea for her involvement.
When he finished, she responded with a faint smile. Interesting. But the Night King cannot reach me, and I trust you can mine enough Dragonbones on your own.
Her smile widened, revealing a set of unnaturally white teeth. It was then that Viserys noticed a subtle changeher skin, once coarse and textured like poundstone, had turned smooth and pale. It was clear her magic had advanced significantly.
If I can bring her along, he thought,
our chances of surviving the Doom Ruins would increase dramatically.
He decided to press further. But by then, the White Walkers will keep attacking Chroyane. Can you really hold them back? Theyre already dead, after all.
Valsha chuckled softly. How I deal with the White Walkers is
my concern. But dont get too careless, Viserys. Failing to uphold our previous agreement wouldnt end well for you.
Halfway through her sentence, her piercing grey-green eyes flicked to his brow. Her smile faltered as her expression hardened. And why, she said sharply, did you put that rubbish inside yourself? Youre forbidden from entering the Pce of Sorrow again with those things here.
Her tone was icy, her displeasure clear. She crossed her arms over her slender frame, her voice firm.
It took Viserys a moment to process her words.
Rubbish? She must have meant the souls of the Undying Ones he had absorbed and controlled. Her ability to detect them took him by surprise. Once again, Valshas power exceeded his expectations.
But her disapproval wasnt his priority now. If she was confident in holding back the Night King, this angle wouldnt sway her. He realized he had to change tactics.
Fine, he said after a moments thought. If you dont want to go, I wont insist. As your friend, I should have spent more time here with you. But my advisers are still bleeding on the frontlines, and I must mine the Dragonbone as soon as possible. Forgive me. He bowed slightly, his tone respectful.
Valsha remained still, her expression unchanging, as Viserys turned to leave. She didnt say a word, even as his back faced her. It wasnt until one foot crossed the threshold that her voice rang out.
If you want me to go, youll stay here with me for another three hundredno, five hundred years!
Viserys froze mid-step. He turned back with a small smile but said nothing, silently rejecting her offer.
If I agree now, shell keep pushing her demands, he thought. After another polite bow, he continued walking.
Two hundred years! she called out, her tone more urgent.
Viserys paused again, his voice calm but firm. Princess Valsha, if you truly dont wish to go, I wont force you. The Doom Ruins are incredibly dangerous. Its not worth the risk.
One hundred years! she said quickly, her voice tinged with frustration, as though she hadnt grasped that bargaining further was futile.
Although Valsha had lived for centuries, much of that time had been spent in istion. Her way of thinking was simplechildlike, even. In this moment, she seemed more like a teenager than the ancient sorceress she was.
Viserys offered no response, neither eptance nor refusal. Valsha, oblivious to his silence, began bargaining with herself, unaware that her offers had already lost their leverage.
Viserys saw an opportunity and seized it. Actually, theres something I havent told you, he began carefully.
Valsha tilted her head slightly. What?
There are still living people inside the Doom Ruins, Viserys said, letting the words linger for a moment. And theyre from the Sennesta family.
At this revtion, Valshas grey-green eyes widened. She reached up and tore away the strips of cloth covering her face, revealing a surprisingly youthfulplexion beneath. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, and her cheeks still held a touch of baby fat. Though they had met before, it was the first time Viserys had seen her true face.
Are you certain? she asked, her voice a mix of doubt and anticipation.
I swear on my unborn child, he said solemnly.
This deration seemed to strike a chord with her. The Sennesta family was infamous for dering war on the Rhoynar Kingdom, a tragedy that had brought immense suffering to Valshas people. Years ago, a member of House Sennesta, also named Viserys, had sought Valshas aid in acquiring the gift of magic. Though she had tricked the family, her revenge paled inparison to the devastation they had inflicted on her people.
Now, Valsha appeared torn. Her emotions red visibly; the strips of cloth trailing from her moved restlessly, a stark contrast to her still figure. It was clear her grayscale had long since healedthose strips were no longer necessary. She had kept them only as a reminder, perhaps, until now.
Her movements stilled, and she fixed Viserys with an intent gaze. You mentioned earlier that the Night King is actually from House Vystarion? she asked suddenly.
Viserys recognized this as a pivotal moment. Though Valshas personality could be immature, her capabilities were formidable. Deciding honesty was the best strategy, he nodded. Thats what he imed, but I dont know exactly what the Night King is. Maybe its an entity, or something else entirely. What I do know is that its parasitically living in Vystarions body.
Valshas grey-green eyes seemed to ignite with purpose. Her chest rose and fell sharply as she turned away from him, heading toward the throne. Instead of sitting, she focused on the dragons that surrounded it. Under Viseryss watchful gaze, she approached thergest of the dragons and climbed onto its back with practiced ease.
The four half-dead dragons, which had been emitting constant streams of gray mist, immediately fell silent.
Viserys took a few steps forward, his mind racing. As Valsha retrieved a blue cloak and draped it over her shoulders, he realized something extraordinary: Valsha could ride dragons. This was unheard ofshe was not of Valyrian descent. The implications challenged everything Viserys thought he understood.
The dragon she mounted rose to its feet, its immense form towering over the hall. The other dragons followed suit, moving in unison behind her. Each was massive, measuring 18 to 19 meters in length, their grey scales glinting dully in the dim light. Valsha, perched confidently atop the leading dragon, exuded the aura of a general ready for war.
Outside the hall, Wealthbringer sensed the presence of the other dragons and stiffened. His golden scales rippled as he prepared for a confrontation, his body coiled with tension. His eyes locked onto the grey dragons emerging one by one, his nostrils ring as he exhaled hot breaths of steam. His hostility was unmistakable, and it seemed he might pounce at any moment.
Chapter 429: The Year of the Great Calamity
Chapter 429: The Year of the Great Cmity
The Yellow Dragon sensed something deeply wrong with these few of its kind.
For humans, the instinctive response to seeing a corpse turn into a wight would be to flee. Dragons, however, reacted differently; when they saw the corpse of a fellow dragon behaving unnaturally, their first instinct was to attack.
Fortunately, Viserys intervened in time.
It''s fine, just rx, he said, stroking the Yellow Dragon''s neck while studying the gray dragons before him.
Despite their movements, their eyes held no trace of color. The ck dragon Nymerion''s pupils gleamed like molten gold, the silver dragon Rharion''s like green tourmaline, and the Yellow Dragon''s like glowing embers. In stark contrast, the dragons captured by Valsha had lifeless, gray-white eyes.
Viserys was curious about how Valsha managed to control these dragons, but for now, he saw no reason to probe further. Her strength was far greater than he had anticipated, and with her ability tomand dragons in battle, the advantages currently outweighed the potential risks. What might happen afterward could wait until the Night King was dealt with.
Are you surprised? Valsha asked, her tone carrying a hint of pride.
Your abilities exceed my imagination, Viserys replied.
Hearing this, Valshas lips curled into an unabashedly smug smile.
Where are we headed now? she asked.
First, well go to Vntis and wait. My fleet will arrive there soon.
I dont want to go to Vntis.
Valshas smile vanished instantly. Chroyane''s downfall had been tied to its ''spice war'' with Vntis. Unable to defeat the Rhoynar, Vntis had sought aid from Valyria. To Valsha, the people of Vntis were the Valyriansckeys, and theckeys of her enemies were enemies as well. She had no intention of stepping into enemy territory.
While Viserys understood her feelings, he had no intention of yielding. His fleet was sailing from King''s Landing, passing through the Hopeful Lands and stopping at Vntis to resupply with troops and provisions. Vntis, the final port before Valyria, was a crucial stop, and Viserys needed to be there personally. The Vntene nobles were highly invested in the expedition, and his presence would secure their continued support.
With the addition of four more dragons, the campaigns prospects had grown even brighter. For this reason, Valsha''s participation in the visit to Vntis was necessary, though it would require careful handling.
Why? Valsha asked, her gray-green eyes narrowing in confusion. The Vntenes gained so muchdont you want to take something back from them?
When you get to Vntis, Viserys said, youll eat and drink with them, and theyll honor you as their Dragonlord. Imagine their faces when you reveal, just before leaving, that youre actually the Shrouded Lord.
Valshas eyes sparkled with amusement, and a sly smile spread across her face. Fine, lets go to Vntis. But I want to stay in the biggest pce!
Months earlier, when Viserys took Benerro with him, he had informed Alios of his uing expedition to Valyria. This news had delighted Vntis'' elite.
The city had assembled a fleet of 500 warships, with the Tiger Cloaks personally selecting half of them. Nobles spared no expense, hiring sailors and outfitting their vessels for the campaign.
Valyria, a near-mythicalnd that had consumed the wealth of the world for over 5,000 years, now promised untold riches. Even as domineering as Viserys was, he had no intention of hoarding it all. Instead, with dragons and the emperor leading the charge, the expedition had be a shared venturea lucrative opportunity.
When the people of Vntis saw Viserys arrive with five dragons in tow, the entire city erupted in celebration.
Father, who is that woman? Arent the only current Dragon Knights Your Grace, the Queen, Princess Hermione, Princess Hali, and Lord Monterys?
I dont know either. Perhaps His Grace has ventured somewhere unknown to us. This woman might be of the ckfyre bloodline.
Alios and his son were not the only ones perplexedeveryone else shared their confusion. However, no one dared to ask directly. The Dragonlord was the Dragonlord; he alonemanded four dragons, and Viseryss evident respect for the woman was unmistakable. With such deference shown by the Emperor, no one dared to risk rudeness.
At the feast, Valsha sat to Viseryss right, eagerly devouring thevish spread before her. Having spent centuries in the destion of the Pce of Sorrow, she hadnt tasted such fine food in ages. Vntene feasts, known for their abundance of exotic spices, were a stark contrast to her past deprivation.
The Vntenes, ever eager to curry favor,vished ttery upon both Valsha and Viserys. Despite her inelegant table manners, they showered her with praise, serving her an unending stream of food and wine.
At first, the atmosphere was typical for a banquet, but the situation began to take an odd turn.
Lady Valsha has such an impressive appetite. The secret to this golden star prawn dish lies in its spices. Speaking of spices, we owe much to the Dragonlord of Valyria from centuries past...
A nobleman dressed in an ornate blue silk robe seized the moment to unt his lineage. Viserys turned his head to nce at Valsha, noticing her sudden pause. Her eating slowed, and her expression grew cold.
To be honest with you, my ancestor Thetios yed a role in the spice war. Our house crafted the golden cage that imprisoned Garin...
The noblemans words hung in the air. Valsha, swallowing her food, slowly raised her gaze to meet his. Her expression turned icy. The mention of
Prince Garinher own brotherhad cut too close to the bone.
Sensing her change in demeanor, Viserys straightened in his seat, saying nothing but readying himself to intervene. While the noblemans blunder was pure misfortune, the underlying problem was Viseryss decision to conceal Valshas true identity.
He couldnt let her unleash chaos at the feast. If manpower were lost before the expedition began, it would spell disaster. Keeping his voice calm yet firm, he spoke.
Enough, my lord. We are here to discuss the expedition. If you wish to recount the glories of your house, youll have ample opportunity to do so
afterwardwith Valsha.
The nobleman, oblivious to the warning, thanked Viserys profusely, misunderstanding his restraint as apliment.
Unfortunately for him, Valsha seized the opportunity for retribution. She began demanding nightly banquets, insisting the nobleman pay for themand required each meal to include a new surprise.
Viserys thought her demands excessive, particrly in a year marked by widespread cmity. Yet,pared to what could have happened, he let her have her way. Had Valsha chosen to vent her anger with her gray dragons, the ensuing grayscale epidemic might have swept through the Free Cities, killing countless people.
Two monthster, the fleet from Kings Landing arrived in Vntis. The armada had swelled to 500 ships, bolstered by the three dragons brought by Princess Hali. With Vntene vessels added to the fleet, the total number of ships and soldiers had more than doubled.
Viserys initially nned for a force of 20,000, but the expedition now boasted over 50,000 men. In the meantime, Vntiss powerful families began subtly vying for Valshas favor. They saw an opportunity: if the Targaryens alone controlled the dragons, their influence would be absolute. But if Valsha held sway as well, they could exploit her presence to protect or advance their own interests.
Your Grace, shall I get rid of a few of them? one of his men asked, noting the political maneuvering.
No need, Viserys replied, his tone dismissive. He had no patience for petty games.
From atop her dragon, Valsha noticed the nobles observing her through their spysses. The dim lighting obscured the finer details of her dragons appearance, and they murmured that it wasnt particrly majestic. Yet, a dragon was still a dragon, and they were busy scheming ways to curry favor.
Valsha, unfazed by their machinations, called out, her voice ringing with mockery and amusement.
Thank you, people of Vntis, for your hospitality! Your spices are exquisite! The Princess of Chroyane Valsha sends her gratitudehahahaha!
Princess of Chroyane...
Chapter 430: The Giant Gates of Tyria
Chapter 430: The Giant Gates of Tyria
The people of Vntis revered the Dragonlords, but their loyalty was to the idea of power, not to any specific Dragonlord. This only reinforced Viserys''s determination to eliminate others Dragonlord houses. The arrogance of the high Dragonlord houses posed a clear dangerbetrayal was not beyond them. If they ever harbored the delusion of aligning with the Night King, it could spell disaster.
Without control of the skies, future battles would grow infinitely more perilous.
Viserys had nowrgelye to terms with the unsettling truth that life still lingered among the ruins of Doom. Given Valyria''s vastness and its centuries of Dragonlord dominance, it wasnt unthinkable that secret havens might have been constructed in preparation for the cataclysm.
As he and Hali hovered over the Smoking Sea on their dragons, the strangendscape of Valyria unfolded before them.
The Smoking Sea, situated north of Valyria, seemed darker and more foreboding than ever. Above it, the sky burned with an unnatural scarlet glowfar brighter than the surrounding heavens. Even the dense, swirling smoke of the sea reflected the eerie crimson light.
The smoke itself twisted into grotesque shapes, forming ghostly faces that leered and shifted, creating an unnerving spectacle. The wall of smoke was no longer just smoke; it was a wall of phantoms, their spectral expressions frozen in torment.
This is strange, Viserys murmured, narrowing his eyes. The red hue of the sky above Valyria was known to result from the reflection of the Fourteen mes. Yet when Euron had ventured to Valyrias outskirts, the sky had appeared normal.
Could it be magic? he wondered, his instincts sharpening.
Steering his dragon closer to Hali, he gave a tersemand.
Hali, go tell them to turn south immediately. No one is to advance any further.
Yes, Father! Hali responded with unwavering resolve, guiding her green dragon, Qinaerys, back toward the fleet.
As he watched his child retreat into the distance, Viserys felt a pang of sorrow. With five Dragon Knights in the family, he knew Westeros would still need its defenders. Danys pregnancy only underscored the necessity of leaving someone capable behind to assist her.
The most logical choice was Monterys, who had the most experience riding a dragon. Yet Monteryss heritageplicated matters. As the son of Montford Vryon, who had died as a loyalist beside Melisandres sacrificial altar, Monterys was thest scion of House Vryon. Removing him from Westeros entirely seemed a poor decision.
Ultimately, Monterys had stayed behind, leaving Viserys with the dilemma of whether to bring Hali or Hermione. The two were only ten years old, and even the coin flip that had decided their fate weighed heavily on his mind.
This expedition wasnt merely about explorationit was perilous beyond measure. The North needed settlers, yes, but Valyria was something far darker.
The memory of Princess Aerea loomedrge in Viseryss thoughts. Aerea had ridden the ck Dread, a dragon over 100 meters long, into Valyriayet even the might of Balerion had not spared her. The horrifying parasites that clung to her had devoured her from within, leaving her body grotesquely ravaged. The heat of her suffering had been so intense that it radiated through her armor.
Viserys nced out over the endless expanse of the Smoking Sea. Beneath its choking fumesy the Fourteen mes, where the Valyrians had once exploited ves to mine gold, red gold, and countless other treasures.
Yet Viserys suspected the mines held more than riches. Perhaps they concealed secretboratories or forbidden experiments.
The Valyrians imed to have discovered dragons in the mines of the Fourteen mes. But Viserys believed otherwisethey had
created dragons there. Through maniption of Firewyrms, Wyverns, and other creatures, they had wrought the beasts that cemented their dominion.
Had their experiments stopped at dragons? Or had they sought to create other magical horrors before their downfall?
Could these primordials lurking in the ruins of Doom still spawn unspeakable terrors?
It was a chilling thoughtand one entirely within the realm of possibility.
The fleet was now roughly two days from Valyria. Viserys, intrigued by rumors, decided to skirt the Smoking Sea and head to the ruins of
Tyria. It was said that Tyria had once housed the worldsrgest library, and though it was likely destroyed in the Doom, remnants might still exist. Being one of the Free Cities closest to Valyria, Tyria could also hold valuable clues.
After bypassing the Smoking Sea, the eerie red light illuminating thendscape made the view more expansive. After several hours of searching, Viserys finally spotted the ruins of Tyria.
From the air, Tyria appeared dotted with Valyrian-style buildings, many still standing despite the passage of centuries. One structure in particr caught his attention: a massive circr stone gate shaped like a dragon swallowing its own tail.
The gates diameter spanned an astonishing hundred meters, defying the conventional understanding of structural mechanics. Viserys marveled at its endurance; it seemed far too massive to sustain itself without copsing under its own weight, suggesting an extraordinary level of craftsmanship and strength.
Riding the Yellow Dragon, he descended toward the circr gate. Volcanic ash billowed as the dragonnded, settling in a cloud beneath its twenty-meter-long form, which perched on the gate like a bird on a branch.
Dismounting, Viserys stepped onto the dragons arch to examine the structure more closely. The craftsmanship was impable, and despite its age, the circr dragon gate was in remarkably good condition.
Looking around, Viserys realized the gate was part of a bridgea hundred meters high and a hundred meters longthat provided a sweeping view of Tyria.
Unlike the ruins near the Fourteen mes, Tyria was surprisingly intact. The buildings below were well-preserved, though the city appeared devoid of life. It felt abandoned, like a ghost town, eerily silent under the reddish glow of the distant pce light.
The destion gave the city an otherworldly, almost purgatorial atmosphere.
In the center of Tyria, a grand building drew Viseryss attention. He couldnt tell whether it was a pce or a temple, but its prominence made it the obvious ce to investigate.
The Yellow Dragon spread its wings and glided down toward the towering structure,nding with practiced grace near its base. After a quick survey for signs of life, Viserys decided to proceed.
The building rested on a teau, with a staircase of nearly 300 steps leading to its entrance. A wide avenue ran straight to the structure, nked by clean, t roads and fortress-like buildings that reminded Viserys of Dragonstones architecture.
Dragon statues lined the streets in dense formations, carved in varied poses: some poised for flight, others rearing their heads in roars, and others resting in repose. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, but Viserys did not linger. He ascended the long staircase.
At the summit, he encountered a massive bronze gate. Up close, the gate towered above himseven or eight meters tall, as imposing as the gates of Kings Landing.
Surprisingly, the gate wasnt locked. Expecting resistance, Viserys braced himself to push it open, but it yielded easily under his hand.
Beyond the gate was a cavernous hall, its vast floor entirely covered with ayer of skulls. As Viserys stepped inside, the clothing on the skeletal remains disintegrated into dust, crumbling as if elerated by his arrival. A field of bare white bones was left in their ce.
Though Viserys was no stranger to death and bloodshed, the sight made him hesitate, forcing him to take two steps back. But after steadying his nerves, he resolved to press forward into the hall.
Just as he crossed the threshold, the heavy bronze gate mmed shut behind him.
The deafening sound reverberated through the vast space, the echo amplifying his unease. Every muscle in his body tensed as he turned his head toward the now-sealed door.
Chapter 431: The Two-Headed Man
Chapter 431: The Two-Headed Man
The huge doors of the hall mmed shut, leaving Viserys with a growing sense of entrapment. The only source of light was the red glow streaming through a massive window near the top of the hall, twelve or thirteen meters high. Below it, skeletons were piled, as if some unfortunate souls had triedand failedto escape through the window.
Outside, the Yellow Dragon sensed the danger and let out a loud cry toward the hall. Yet the thick walls offered excellent soundproofing; Viserys heard nothing of his dragons rm.
His hand instinctively went to the sword at his waist as his eyes scanned the dim hall. Just two breathster, a gargoyle-shapedmp carved into the wall suddenly flickered to life, illuminating the space. The harsh light revealed the gruesome detail of the grounda denseyer of bones, some areas stacked into macabre piles.
Viserys noticed that these skeletons were smaller and more fragile than normal, and the realization sent a chill through him.
Then came the sound of hurried footsteps.
A squad of soldiers appeared in the gallery above, armed with crossbows of a strange design. Viserys quickly assessed his surroundings but found no cover. The hall was vast and barren, resembling an empty warehouse. The piles of small, brittle skeletons scattered across the floor offered no protection.
He couldnt fathom how a regiment of soldiers operated in a deste ghost town like Tyria. Where did they get provisions? How did they survive? But this wasnt the time to dwell on logistics.
Believing his Valyrian armor andbat skills might give him a fighting chance, Viserys decided to try diplomacy first.
I am Viserys Targaryen, descendant of the exile Aenar. If I have disturbed you, I am willing to leave immediately!
His voice echoed in the vast hall, but there was no reply.
Instead, from a corner of the hall, a yellow door creaked open. Two columns of soldiers, armed with swords and shields, marched out in perfect formation.
These soldiers wore blue armor adorned with shields depicting flying dragons. Their disciplined appearance was startlinghealthy, robust men in a ce thought to be devoid of life.
The soldiers halted five or six meters from Viserys and split into two lines, forming a path like an honor guard. At the end of this path emerged a man in a flowing purple silk robe.
Viseryss eyes narrowed. A two-headed man?
Perched on the mans shoulders were two distinctly different heads. Both had silver hair, but the hairstyles were markedly distinct. One head had short hair and sharp, masculine features; the other had softer, more feminine features.
The gender disparity puzzled Viserys. If they shared the same body, wouldnt their biology influence both heads equally? But he quickly dismissed the thought. This was a world of magic, after allrationality often had no ce here.
Speaking in fluent Valyrian, he addressed the figure.
My lord, I am Viserys Targaryen, descendant of Aenar Targaryen, who fled Valyria for Dragonstone. If I have intruded, I offer my apologies and will leave.
Viseryss tone was calm but firm, his eyes carefully studying the two-headed figure. In his mind, he evaluated the possibility of escaping by taking the man hostage if negotiations turned sour.
The masculine head stirred first, its expression pensive. Aenar, it muttered, as though struggling to ce the name.
The feminine head interjected, rifying, It was Aenarsthat led the Targaryens to Dragonstone before the Doom.
The masculine head nodded, as if finally piecing the memory together.
What are you doing here? the masculine head asked, its tone both curious and wary.
To lead humanity against the White Walkers and survive the Long Night, Viserys replied earnestly. He saw no point in deception; honesty might even secure their cooperation. These people, if alive and organized, could be invaluable allies.
My fleet will arrive soon, he continued. I hope to use your port as a staging ground. If necessary, I am prepared topensate you in kind.
Viserys abandoned any pretense of imperial authority. Here, in this ancient and enigmatic ce, he approached the negotiation with genuine humility.
The two-headed man was not about to ept Viserys''s conditions. The man''s head spoke, his tone devoid of emotion:
Your army cannot appear in our port, and the situation in Tyria cannot be known to outsiders.
Realizing there was no room for negotiation, Viserys inclined his head slightly and replied,
Very well. If that is the case, I will leave now. Please, my lord, open the door. I will not tell a soul about what I have seen today.
The woman''s head interjected sharply,
I don''t think you can keep a secret.
Boom boom boom!
As she spoke, a sudden crash echoed from the main hall door. The yellow dragon was attempting to break in to rescue Viserys. Confusion flickered across his facehow had the dragon sensed his predicament from outside?
tter.
The vibrations from the door caused a pile of bones to copse, scattering several skulls across the floor. Seizing the moment, Viserys activated Dragon Vision to assess the situation outside. He saw the yellow dragon pinned at the door, surrounded by hundreds of soldiers d in the same armor as those inside the hall. The dragon could have easily flown away, yet it remained, defying the soldiers and using its massive, water-tank-thick tail to strike the door in an attempt to alert Viserys.
It was clear these people had no intention of letting him leave alive.
They never had any good intentions to begin with!
With that realization, Viserys surged forward, delivering a sharp kick before leaping to confront the two-headed man. Panic flickered across both faces, betraying their earlier overconfidence. The cold steel of Viserys''s sword pressed firmly against the mans throat as he spoke in a chilling tone:
I can promise not to tell anyone about what happened here. But until then, you will either die or let me leave.
To his surprise, the man lunged forward, impaling himself on the sword. Viserys barely had time to react before the womans head extended unnaturally, her neck elongating to three times its original length. Her mouth grotesquely split, stretching to the base of her ears in a horrifying transformation.
Viserys''s eyes widened as the monstrous head mped down on his sword with incredible force. He struggled to free it, but her bite was like a vice. Thebined weight of the two-headed man dragged him down into an awkward heap on the ground, making it impossible to kill them immediately.
Above, a soldier with a crossbow fired, and a hail of seventy or eighty arrows rained down toward Viserys. The man''s head sneered maliciously. With no other choice, Viserys released his grip on the sword and moved to evade the attack, knowing escape would leave him defenseless against the soldiers inevitable pursuit.
But events took an unexpected turn. The two-headed man fused with the sword in Viserys''s hands, bing an unwieldy, grotesque weapon. Swinging this strange new de, Viserys deflected many of the iing arrows, a significant portion embedding themselves into the two-headed man''s body.
A wail of pain erupted from the man, echoing through the hall, yet the womans head maintained her grip on the sword.
You know nothing of strength, Viserys muttered under his breath as he hefted the bizarre weapon. With powerful swings, he began fighting the advancing swordsmen and shield-bearers. The unwieldy, humanoid hammer-like weapon was over two meters long and weighed more than 100 catties, but it proved devastating in his hands.
Upstairs, the archers hesitated, unwilling to fire into the melee. Taking advantage of the chaos, Viserys charged toward the second floor, dragging the two-headed man with him. Along the way, he snatched up a shield for added defense.
At that moment, the yellow dragon smashed through the enormous window, sending shards of ss scattering across the room in a dazzling array of refracted light. With a roar, the dragon unleashed jet-ck fire, engulfing most of the soldiers in mes.
Seizing the opportunity, Viserys mounted the dragon, the wounded two-headed man slung over his back as a hostage. As they ascended, he looked down at the shrinking building below, realizing that Tyria would be a battleground if it were to serve as their base of operations.
But just as this thought crossed his mind, the two-headed man, seemingly on the brink of death, stirred with sudden vitality andunched a ferocious attack.
Chapter 432: The Death of Aerea
Chapter 432: The Death of Aerea
The sudden shift in circumstances forced Viserys and the two-headed man into a direct confrontation atop the dragon''s back. The precarious battleground highlighted the mans grotesque and unnatural nature.
This creature isnt a natural anomaly, Viserys thought grimly.
Hes definitely a mutant, shaped by magic.
The elongated neck, stretching three feet like something from a horror story, was unnatural enough, but the true terrory in the gaze of the two heads. Back in the main hall, their demeanor had conveyed an aura of calcted malice
a blend of simple, brutish strength and sharp intelligence. Now, their expressions were savage, primal, and devoid of restraint. The hardened skulls and powerful, whip-like necks made them formidable even against Viserys''s tactics.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind:
[Master! Leave it to me!]
It was the voice of one of the Undying Ones, a soul bound to Viserys since his time in Qarth.
Another voice interjected, masculine and eager:
[Master! I can do it too!]
Viserys had absorbed eight Undying Ones'' souls during his time in Qarth. Over the years, he had found uses for them, embedding one in Varys to aid his transformation and granting others specific roles. Varys, now tasked with intelligence and administrative duties, had seamlessly adopted his altered identity, his newfound obedience attributed to Viseryssmanding presence.
Viserys entertained the idea of embedding an Undying Ones soul into the womans head. Such a move could prove invaluablelike nting a spy among the Tyrians. However, he was cautious not to release multiple souls at once.
The bond between Viserys and the yellow dragon, strengthened by their mind-merge, proved advantageous. The dragons flight patterns shifted constantly, ensuring Viserys always had the upper hand in his strikes. This tactical advantage,bined with the two-headed mans struggle to coordinate his dual heads inbat, began to wear his opponent down.
Viserys carefully studied the dynamic between the two heads.
The female head seems to handle strategy and thought, while the male head leans toward decision-making and action, he observed. With this realization, he decided to eliminate the male head, leaving the female intact for interrogation.
After a fierce exchange, Viserys executed his n. He beheaded the male head and immediately used fire magic to incinerate it. What remained of the two-headed man now resembled a grotesque, lopsided figure
a crooked-necked woman.
Wasting no time, Viserys breathed one of the Undying Ones'' souls into the surviving head. As the magic took hold, the savage and feral gaze in the womans eyes dissolved, reced by an expression of servility and submission.
My great master, the creature said in a low, reverent tone, thank you for giving me a new body.
The transformation wasplete. The voice, mannerisms, and demeanor now mirrored those of Varys when his body was imbued with an Undying Ones soul.
Tell me everything you know, Viserysmanded.
The former two-headed man began recounting what little he knew, though it was sufficient to piece together crucial details. He described the events leading to the Doom of Valyria:
Valyria had perished not merely because of the volcanic eruption of the Fourteen mes. A vast, intricatework of suppression spells had been woven beneath the mountains, designed to contain their destructive power. However, as the tides of magic ebbed, these spells weakened and ultimately failed. The Fourteen mes erupted violently, engulfing thend in an apocalyptic flood ofva and ash.
The destruction wasnt solely due to the natural catastrophe. Valyria had been a hub of magical experiments, cursed relics, and witchcraft prohibitions. When the suppressing magic copsed, these vtile forcesbined in a catastrophic chain reaction, ensuring the obliteration of the once-great civilization.
Tyria, as a satellite Free City, had been rtively spared from the magical excesses that doomed Valyria, leaving much of its infrastructure intact. The great hall Viserys had visited, it turned out, was a temple dedicated to the gods of the Valyrian people.
When the Doom struck, many Tyrians sought refuge in the temple, believing it to be a sanctuary. However, the temple was enchanted, and when the disaster erupted, the enchantment malfunctioned. Hundreds of thousands of people were trapped inside, dying horrific deaths. Over the centuries, the Tyrians connected the temple to an underground shelter that eventually expanded into a subterranean city. The skeletal remains in the temple were the result of these underground inhabitants piling the bones of the dead there, creating the grim spectacle Viserys had encountered.
As for the two-headed man, Boryas, Viserys confirmed his suspicion: he was a homunculus, an artificially created being. Tyria housed what was essentially a gicboratory, established by the Dragonlords. This facility produced mutants with specialized traits, engineered to serve their Valyrian masters.
What intrigued Viserys most was the Tyrians innovative use of magic. Their magical devices enabled crop cultivation without sunlight, a technique powered entirely by arcane energy rather than the sun. Such methods could revolutionize food production, even in the most deste environmentsa resource too valuable for Viserys to ignore.
Even more astonishing was what Boryas revealed about Tyrias ruler, a being called
On. The supreme leader of Tyria had three heads and five faces, an abomination that dwarfed even Boryas'' unsettling appearance. On was clearly orchestrating something significant, though the specifics of his ns remained a mystery.
Boryas also divulged another revtion: Tyria was home to an enormous repository of Dragonbones, the remains of thousands of dragons. The Dragonlords of Valyria had evidently used Tyria as a graveyard or storage site for these remains, likely for magical purposes. The thought of gaining ess to such a trove of resources gave Viserys even more reason to seize control of the city.
Crops grown without sunlight, thousands of Dragonbones, and the advanced magical and gic technologies housed in Tyriaall of these were treasures Viserys was determined to im. And after their attempted ambush, the Tyrians actions only hardened his resolve.
They dared to move against methey will regret it.
Boryas, Viserys said coldly, his gaze steady on the grotesque figure before him, return to the dungeon. We will maintain constantmunication. I will return soon with an army to take this city.
Boryas, now infused with the soul of an Undying One, bowed deeply. Dont worry, my great master. I will serve you with all my strength. He smeared volcanic ash over the wound on his neck, straightened, and departed with a servile air.
Viserys mounted his dragon and flew toward the ck, round stone arch that marked the temples exit. He paused mid-flight, ncing back at the great hall, his thoughts racing.
Boryas had shared an additional piece of critical information: Tyria, since Valyrias fall, had shed its pretense of being a mere satellite city. Its leaders had begun seizing Valyrias most sacred legacythe Dragonlords bloodline.
Boryas spoke of figures tied to this legacy. Before Viserys, a man named Aurion had dered himself Emperor of Valyria and ventured to Tyria, only to be captured.
Simrly, Aerea Targaryen, who had ridden the ck Dread to the Ruins of Valyria, had apparently wandered to Tyria afterward. Aerea lived in Tyria for some time, but it seemed the Tyrians had leverage over her. Her return to Kings Landing was marked by cryptic final words:
Never!
Viseryss jaw tightened. If Tyrias leader, the three-headed and five-faced On, knew more about Valyria and its mysteries, then conquering the city was imperative.
This On must hold answersabout the Dragonlords, the Doom, and the true legacy of Valyria.
Chapter 433: Steel, Gunpowder, and Spellcasters
Chapter 433: Steel, Gunpowder, and Spellcasters
After three or four centuries of controlled poption growth, the total number of inhabitants in Tyria has remarkably remained steady at approximately 150,000 to 160,000.
The vast undergroundplex, referred to as the "dungeon," has six primary exits to the surface. Five of these are located on the outskirts of what were once the Free Cities of Tyria, while thergest and most significant is positioned directly beneath the temple. Armed with intelligence supplied by Boryas, Viserys''s 50,000-strong army swiftly seized control of the four smaller entrances.
The expedition''s most formidable asset was its arsenal of 500 cannons. The overwhelming superiority these weapons offered swiftly subdued any Vntis nobles entertaining thoughts of defection. Realizing the Targaryens newfound strength, even without dragons, many began reconsidering their allegiances. Those who had sought to ingratiate themselves with Valsha paid a steep priceseveral were executed, leaving others to focus on understanding the cannons deadly potential.
These cannons, regarded as Viserys''s ultimate trump card, were under the strict joint supervision of Conwyra and Rhaegar Connington, also known as Young Connington. At present, Young Connington was coordinating the artillery''s deployment into the dungeon to mount an assault on the final temple fortress of Tyria.
He and Conwyra stood in a dimly lit room, discussing their strategy. Overhead, a single ss candle emitted a soft, white glow, its light barely sufficient to illuminate the fifty-to-sixty square meter chamber.
Using cannons in the dungeon is incredibly risky. Perhaps incendiary bombs would be a safer option? Conwyra suggested.
Every day we dy outside increases the strain on our supplies. We need to act quickly and ept some level of risk, Young Connington replied, his tone measured but firm. After a brief pause, he added, Well use the cannons selectively in critical areas. Later, Ill negotiate directly with their king.
Understood. Ill inspect the troops, Conwyra agreed before leaving the room.
The Tyrians had been driven into a corner within just three days of the attacksmencement,rgely due to the artillery. The cannons had proved decisive, and their impact on warfare was destined to be transformative. Strict secrecy surrounding these weapons was paramount.
Moments after Conwyra departed, a lithe figure darted out of the shadows andunched itself at Young Connington, wrapping slender arms around his neck.
Arya, dont! Young Connington eximed, though there was no rm in his voicehe recognized her instantly.
He stood unperturbed as Arya clung to him like a sloth. The two had first met three years earlier at the first birthday celebration of Viseryss eldest son, Willem. Their rtionship had blossomed, culminating in their marriage a year ago.
Arya had grown into a strikingly beautiful young woman, her earlier horse-faced appearance a distant memory. ording to the original ounts, Aryas time in Braavos had revealed her potential to be a Courtesana testament to her inherited good looks and presence. She had now matured fully, and there was no doubt of her attractiveness.
Despite this, the couple had mutually decided to dy having children, spending their days honing their skills in swordsmanship and horsemanship. Aryas spirits had recently been dampened by witnessing the destructive power of the artillery, leaving her disheartened about the relevance of her martial prowess. This despair had deepened following Robbs death in battle, which left her struggling to find purpose.
To lift her spirits, Young Connington had indulged her by allowing her to guest-star as an artillery officer, a gesture that instantly brightened her mood.
Ill fire the first shot! Arya whispered mischievously into his ear.
Young Connington, though exasperated, couldnt help but smile. Arya had trained relentlessly in the Water Dance for years, often ambushing him in yful surprise attacks.
This is war, my Arya, he said gently. When its over, Ill request Your Graces permission for you to fight wherever and however you wish.
Dont you dare back out now! she teased, pounding his chest in mock protest.
Relenting, Young Connington agreedbut only on the condition that he could supervise her efforts closely. Arya, delighted, yfully struck his chest again in celebration.
Shortly thereafter, the main force, led by Young Connington and the artillery unit, advanced to the entrance of Tyrias underground fortress. Despite being called a fortress, it was more akin to a heavily fortified pass. The steel gates were shut tight, blending seamlessly into the surrounding stone walls. They resembled a pair of massive ck teeth, their imposing appearance reinforced by thick stone pirs on either side.
Conwyra carefully considered the situation, aiming to minimize artillery bombardment if possible. Meanwhile, Young Connington approached the massive steel gate and instructed a subordinate to use a "megaphone" to deliver their ultimatum.
Listen, Tyrians inside! Lay down your arms and surrender unconditionally. The merciful King Viserys is willing to forgive your sins!
From behind the gate, a defiant voice responded:
You''re the invaders, not us! Why should we surrender? Aren''t your cannons powerful? Go ahead and fire!
The voice was peculiara strange blend of a deep, resonant male tone and a high-pitched, shrill feminine quality. Young Connington wasnt surprised. During recent battles, he had already encountered and captured a two-headed man, so the strange voice didnt faze him.
Irritated by the response, he shouted back, You ambushed and tried to kill our emperor, and now His Grace is still willing to show you mercy. Instead of surrendering, you dare to bargain? I''ll give you 15 minutes to surrender. If you dont, Ill start firing!
Despite his threat, the answer from behind the gate remained resolute. Frustrated, Young Connington decided not to wait the full 15 minutes and returned to the artillery position.
The artillery unit was limited to just 12 cannons at this location. Deciding to test the steel gates resilience, he ordered a single shot. As he approached the cannons, he noticed Arya standing nervously, her hand trembling slightly as she gripped a lighter.
This particr lighter was a recent innovationnot technologically advanced, but functional. Based on an idea from Viserys and crafted by a Myrish artisan, the device had be a poprmodity among the old smokers of Westeros and the Free Cities.
Young Connington moved to Aryas side, patiently guiding her through the cannons operation.
Pay close attention. The key to firing a cannon is adjusting the angle and calcting, he exined.
Calcting? Arya repeated, her face clouded with worry. Do I have to learn math to fire cannons?
Math had always been Aryas weakness. At the Royal College, subjects like geometry and equations made her head spin. Seeing her apprehension, Young Connington felt a glimmer of relief. Cannons were inherently dangerousprevious tests had resulted in frequent explosions. If her fear of math deterred her from pursuing this, he would consider it a small victory.
Yes, he replied, his lips curling into a teasing smile. Before I became proficient, I solved dozens of practice problems. Youve seen all the scrap paper in my room, havent you? Still want to learn how to fire a cannon?
Arya hesitated for a moment, then gritted her teeth and dered, Ill learn!
Young Connington adjusted the cannons angle while Arya eagerly stepped forward, her excitement palpable. She struck the lighter several times, her hands trembling slightly, until finally, a thumb-sized yellow me ignited. She brought it to the cannons fuse, which began to sizzle and burn.
Both Arya and Young Connington quickly covered their ears as the cannon roared to life. The dragon-carved barrel erupted in fire, and a steel projectile shot forward like a hammer. The projectile mmed into the steel gate with an ear-splitting ng, and the sound echoed throughout the dungeon.
When the sulphurous smoke cleared, the result was visiblea dent the size of a basin marred the gate, but it had not been pierced. Breaching it would require significantly more gunpowder and repeated bombardments, which risked damaging the supporting stone pirs on either side.
Behind the steel gate, three two-headed men stood alongside a few hundred soldiers. Tension filled the air as they assessed the situation.
As long as the stone pirs remain standing, the road will stay blocked. They wont get in, said the womans head on one of the two-headed men.
But we wont be able to destroy the stone pirs quickly enough, replied the mans head on another.
If the steel gate copses, itll affect the stone pirs. When they break the gate, the pirs will likely give way and block the entire tunnel, the first two-headed man added.
After a moment of deliberation, one of them concluded, Leave some men here to hold them off. The rest of us will retreat for now!
Chapter 434: Steel, Gunpowder, and Spellcasters II
Chapter 434: Steel, Gunpowder, and Spellcasters II
The great fortress of Tyria had only one viable entry point, and despite the formidable disy of artillery, Young Connington knew the limits of his resources. When the first cannonball failed to breach the iron gate, he refrained from using excessive gunpowder. The cannons and their ammunition were too valuable to squander.
In this era, indiscriminate bombardment was not a luxury anyone could afford. Even Viserys, with his ambitions, had reserved artillery for decisive battles, such as the anticipated confrontation with the Night King. The cannons were meant to deal a devastating blow, not to be overused against lesser threats, lest the enemy adapt to their tactics.
Young Connington faced unique challenges here in the dungeon. Although his ammunition reserves were sufficient, the confined underground environment imposed restrictions on how the cannons could be used effectively. Precision sting was not within Viseryss expertise, nor did Young Connington have the luxury of indulging in trial and error.
As he pondered his options, a woman in a warlocks cloak approached. It was Malora, leading a group of warlocks to offer their assistance.
Linking spell? Are you sure this will work? Young Connington asked, his skepticism clear. While he possessed some magical knowledge, he was aware that Maloras methods belonged to a different school entirely.
Maloras group proposed a n to use magic alongside the artillery to breach the gate. Yet, there was a risk: the dungeon was crucial as a forward base for the eventual assault on the Doom Ruins. sting the tunnel could trap the remaining Tyrians, but it could also leave his forces vulnerable to counterattacks from hidden forces within.
This is what His Grace wishes, Malora assured him. Weve rehearsed it thoroughly, and the odds of sess are high.
Since it bore Viseryss approval, Young Connington decided to proceed. He ordered the artillery to prepare for another volley while assigning a squad of warriors to guard the warlocks.
The warlocks each carried what appeared to be simple wands, prompting mixed reactions from the soldiers. Eddard Umber, son of Jon Umber, stood among them. Fourteen years old but already possessing a towering physique, Eddard exuded an imposing presence. Known for his strength and blunt manner, he regarded the warlocks and their wands with disdain.
To Eddard, the wands resembled nothing more than twigs. He felt confident that if he could close the distance, he could dispatch the warlocks effortlessly with his greatsword. He touched the massive de strapped to his back, a family heirloom he had inherited after Greatjons death in battle. That sword had in a two-headed man, and Eddard saw no reason to believe these fragile-looking wands couldpare.
As he watched the warlocks work, Eddards attention drifted to the artillery. His eyes gleamed with admiration for the powerful cannons. Their imposing forms reminded him of something primal, a connection he couldnt quite put into words.
Calibrate it! Young Connington barked, pulling everyone back to focus.
Arya, who had been eager earlier, now wisely stayed back. She realized the situation was far more serious than before and didnt want to interfere. Instead, she silently prayed for the gates destruction so she could join the fray alongside Young Connington.
A deafening series of explosions followed as all twelve cannons fired in unison. The roar echoed through the dungeon, reverberating like a relentless drumbeat. The sound was so overwhelming that, even with ears covered, everyone felt the vibrations coursing through their bodies.
As the sulphurous smoke cleared, the damage became visible. The once-pristine steel gate now bore the scars of wardeep pits and jagged craters covered its surface, resembling a tattered piece of linen.
Young Connington nced at Arya, noticing her pale face. Momentster, she turned aside and vomited.
He understood all too well. The sheer force of the explosions and the sound waves could unsettle even the most hardened soldiers. During his training, he had experienced simr nausea, and it was no surprise Arya felt the same.
The bombardment had made progress, but the gate still stood. Young Connington knew they had weakened it significantly.
Second round of bombardment, prepare!
Young Connington''smand rang out sharply, and the artillery teams sprang into action. They cleared the lingering ash from the barrels, loaded fresh gunpowder, and carefully inserted the projectiles.
As the preparations continued, Young Connington''s gaze shifted to the massive stone pirs nking the steel gate. Deep cracks marred their surfaces, and one cannonball had already narrowly missed, grazing a pir and almost causing further damage.
Finally, the Unsullied-led artillery stood ready for the second volley. With a steady voice, Young Connington gave the order, lifting Arya directly into his arms as the cannons fired again.
The deafening barrage shattered the steel gatepletely, and the stone pirs trembled violently, barely standing amidst spreading cracks.
Crack.
The fractures deepened, and the pirs seemed moments away from copse.
Prepare the binding spell! Malora shouted suddenly.
A brilliant white light emanated from the warlocks wands. The shimmering magic enveloped the damaged pirs, stabilizing them temporarily as the tunnel walls ceased their copse.
Eddard stared in silent astonishment at the surreal disy. He couldnt match the devastating power of those massive cannons, but now even these slender wands seemed far beyond his grasp.
The uneasy reprieve was short-lived. The shifting weight of the damaged structure soon caused the tunnel to destabilize again. Stone and debris began to crumble as the warlocks poured more energy into their spells, maintaining a fragile equilibrium.
A warlock rushed over to Young Connington and spoke urgently. My lord, we can hold the spell for about half an hour. Lord Malora asked me to tell you that if you n to attack, you must act quickly and pass through the tunnel. If not, well have to end the spell.
Young Connington faced a difficult choice.
Attacking meant risking everything without knowing the enemy''s strength, and half an hour might not be enough to get a thousand soldiers through safely. Even if they seeded in entering, retreat would be a perilous endeavor.
But retreating now would forfeit their only chance.
Aryas gray eyes met his, calm yet resolute, silently conveying that she would follow whatever path he chose. Her unwavering determination steeled his resolve.
With a nod to Conwyra, Young Connington issued his order: Attack!
Under Eddard Umbersmand, the three battalions began moving single file into the unstable tunnel. The stone groaned ominously, dust falling in torrents as cracks widened.
Young Connington brought up the rear, Arya close behind him.
Arya, look behind you!
What? she asked, turning instinctively.
Seizing the moment, Young Connington struck, knocking her unconscious. He swiftly handed her limp form to Conwyra, locking eyes with the soldier for a brief moment before charging into the tunnel himself.
As soon as Young Connington entered, the warlocks strength faltered. The spell failed, and the tunnel copsed in a thunderous roar behind him.
Tyria Dungeon, Main Castle:
What! Theyre inside? How many?
The three-headed On paced in panic, his voices ovepping in rm.
A two-headed man replied grimly, About a thousand, give or take.
A thousand. Not many, but enough to pose a dire threat.
Ons fortress still housed 4,000 defenders, yet the invaders weapons were unnervingly destructive. The cannons alone had breached their defenses, and their incendiary bottles turned into raging infernos upon impact.
Despite their numerical advantage, On felt cornered.
Escape seemed the only viable option. He could flee and seek help from the figure in the Doom Ruins. But even the thought of that entity sent a shiver of dread through him, and all five faces on his three heads twisted in anguish.
My lord, let me hold them off for you! Boryas interjected, his remaining head speaking with solemn conviction. I failed to kill Viserys before, but if theye for you, theyll have to step over my corpse!
Boryas, now harboring the soul of a thousand-year-old monster, exuded an air of sincerity. His tone, expression, and gestures were wless.
On hesitated but finally made up his mind.
Fine. Ill take only... 2,500 men with me. The rest are yours!
Even in retreat, taking the majority of the garrison felt excessive.
Boryas bowed deeply. Do not worry, my lord. Allow me to bid you farewell on your final journey!
Chapter 435: Steel, Gunpowder, and Spellcasters III
Chapter 435: Steel, Gunpowder, and Spellcasters III
Your Grace, this passage leads outside the city of Tyria. Their leader, On, is likely heading toward the Doom Ruins, Boryas informed Viserys, his tone measured yet firm.
The statement stirred Viseryss thoughts. If On was indeed headed to the Doom Ruins, it suggested there were other inhabitants thereperhaps even a thriving poption. Tyria itself housed nearly 150,000 people, so the Doom Ruins might support an evenrger number.
If possible, Viserys preferred to seek a path of negotiation or trade with the inhabitants of the Doom Ruins. After all, before arriving here, Dragonbone had been left abandoned in vast quantities outside the ruins, signaling itsck of utility to the locals.
Whats the quantity of Dragonbones here? Viserys asked, his focus sharp.
Young Connington stepped forward, providing a detailed report. Your Grace, the Tyrians used most of the Dragonbones to reinforce their dungeon. In our search, we uncovered over 700 giant dragon skulls. Fourteen of these were more than 10 meters long, 88 measured between 7 and 10 meters, and
The sheer scale of the discovery made Viserys pause. A dragon with a skull measuring 10 meters likely had a body over 100 meters longfourteen dragons the size of
Balerion the ck Dread.
Valyrias history spanned 5,000 years, with over 1,000 dragons at its peak. It wasnt unthinkable to unearth tens of thousands of dragon skeletons, especially with more than 700 satellite cities like Tyria. The Doom Ruins undoubtedly held even more.
What kind of crops can grow without sunlight? Viserys shifted his focus to the critical issue of food supply.
Boryas handed him a te of peculiar, purple, mushroom-like produce. Your Grace, this is what has sustained Tyria for centuriespurple flesh.
Viserys broke off a piece and tasted it. Its texture was both chewy and crisp, akin to konjac, with a vor blending the essence of meat and vegetables. Surprisingly, it was quite ptable.
After swallowing the first bite, he sampled another before speaking decisively to Young Connington. Send back seeds of this purple flesh along with people skilled in its cultivation. Also, transport all the Dragonbones.
Yes, Your Grace, Young Connington replied with utmost respect.
Having served Viserys for years, Young Connington thought he had grasped the extent of his kings abilities. Yet time and again, Viserys shattered those perceptions.
When Young Connington had led the charge into Tyria, he never expected Boryas to surrender so abruptly. Initially, he doubted it, but seeing Boryas approach with raised hands left no room for misinterpretation.
What unnerved him most, however, was Viseryss ability to seemingly nt an ally here long before their arrival. Young Connington was certain no one had prior knowledge of Tyrias existence, let alone contact with its people. Yet here was Boryas, pledging loyalty as if orchestrated by some unseen force.
Suppressing his bewilderment, Young Connington continued his report on the battles spoils.
There was an abundance of gold, red gold, and silverplunder that hardly needed boration. ording to established regtions, half of all gains went to the court, with the royal family receiving the remainder. The rest was divided equally among the army, individual soldiers, and organizations involved in the campaign. Even so, the sheer scale of the wealth left the Vntene soldiers ecstatic.
It was no surprise for a Valyrian satellite city to hold such treasures.
Beyond the wealth, the expedition had recovered a trove of books. Although much of Tyrias library was destroyed, enough manuscripts survived to make the find significant. Among these were numerous texts on magic, which were immediately sealed for safety.
More concerning was the discovery of a gic modificationboratory. Its contents were deemed too dangerous to handle without Viseryss direct oversight.
Apanied by Melisandre, Malora, and Young Connington, Viserys made his way to theboratory.
Viserys had always harbored a nagging question: why hadnt the Tyrians moved to the surface to live?
Boryas, fortunately, provided an answer. He exined that around seventy or eighty years after the Doom, the Tyrians gradually relocated to their underground city. The reason was simple yet peculiarthe light above ground became increasingly unbearable for them.
Given the Tyrians ability to mass-produce yin-yang two-headed people, Viserys tentatively attributed this aversion to sunlight to gic modifications. In Tyria, one in every thousand children was born as a yin-yang two-headed individual, a trait that strongly hinted at deliberate gic tampering.
The Tyrians seemed to share simrities with the Valyrians and Dragonlord families, who had also undergone extensive group modifications in the past.
This realization made Viserys wary of the Tyrians. Their gic foundation was deeply wed, perhaps even dangerous, and this caution extended to their legacy.
The biologicalboratory in Tyria resembled a massive warehouse rather than a conventionalb. Its entrance was guarded by a "palmprint lock," a device unfamiliar to Viserys. Boryas ced his hand on the scanner, and a ripple of green light spread outward from his palm.
The massive metal door lifted slowly, almost eerily silent as it opened. Bright light poured out from within, confirming the interior was heavily illuminated.
The group entered cautiously, only to freeze in stunned silence at the sight before them.
Theboratory was enormous, as spacious as a grand theater, with rows upon rows of transparent ss jars, eachrge enough to hold a person. The jars were arranged with exact precision, creating an unsettlingly ordered scene.
Viserys stepped closer to inspect the contents.
Inside most jars were humanoid figuresnaked and eerily lifelike. Yet each disyed features that set them apart from ordinary humans. Some had dragon wings sprouting from their backs, others were covered in patches of shimmering scales.
At first, Viserys assumed they were abnormal fetuses, perhaps part of an experiment to cultivate magically gifted beings. But something about them felt... off. He soon noticed the web of purple veins coursing visibly through their necks, groins, and armpits, hinting at something far more sinister.
And it wasnt just humans in the jars.
In other containers, they found creatures of varying shapes and sizes. Dragons floated in suspended animation, alongside Firewyrms, lizards with grotesquely elongated legs, and even horses with gills and scales.
The audacity of the Dragonlords was unmistakable. In their hubris, they had seemingly attempted to rewrite nature itself, acting as if they were the creators of the world.
Viserys pondered the technological prowess necessary for such feats and whether it was even possible with what Valyria possessed in its prime.
Ultimately, he decided these experiments were too dangerous to preserve. Most of the jars would need to be destroyed, though a few samples and experimental notes might prove valuable for study in safer hands.
Theboratory also housed an array of gically modified nts, some resembling the "purple flesh" crop that sustained the Tyrians. While they appeared edible, Viserys saw no immediate need to take such risks.
After nearly an hour of observation and deliberation, the group prepared to leave theb.
But just as they turned to depart, a sudden, sharp sound echoed through the space.
Crack.
All at once, the ss jars shattered, sending shards flying in every direction.
The creatures insideformed and unformed embryos, grotesque lumps of pink and white fleshspilled out onto the floor.
Then they began to writhe.
The sight of these malformed creatures squirming and twitching against the sterileb floor sent waves of dread through everyone present. Even Viserys, who had witnessed many horrors in his life, felt an icy chill creeping up his spine.
Chapter 436: Hali’s Mathematical Mind
Chapter 436: Halis Mathematical Mind
The sudden change left everyone on edge.
Inside the vast, warehouse-likeboratory, the wriggling pinkish-white flesh covered the floor, moving erratically. The air grew thick with a pungent, fishy stench, suffocating and invasive as it seeped into the lungs.
Viserys and the others instinctively drew their swords, assuming defensive positions. The ruby at Melisandres throat pulsed with a steady, ominous glow.
My lord, I think they are destroying themselves, Melisandre said, her voice calm but taut with unease.
Self-destruction? Viserys repeated, his eyes scanning the grotesque sight before him.
The flesh sprawled across the floor varied in sizesome norger than an infant, others as big as a fully grown adult. The cries they emitted were unsettling: the wails of babies, the groans of adults, and the animalistic screeches of unrecognizable creatures blended into a cacophony of despair. The sounds wed at the nerves, making the scene feel like a vision of hell itself.
Despite the chaos, there was no sign of intelligence in these creatures actions. Everything they did seemed driven by instinct, devoid of autonomy.
Not all the entities were writhing or crying out. Some peopley motionless, their eyes vacant and lifeless, as though their souls had already fled.
This sight stirred a thought in Viseryss mind. He recalled the three-headed statue in Tyrosh, which had ties to a magical item he had encountered. The three heads symbolized distinct functions: one devoured death, another breathed life, and the third, as Viserys had theorized and Shiera confirmed, stored souls.
Looking at the lifeless bodies, Viserys couldnt shake the impression that these experiments had failed due to the absence of that very magical item.
Could it be that Tyrias gic engineering copsed because theycked the means to house souls? he wondered aloud.
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a cacophony in his own mind.
[Master, please give me a body! Master!]
[Master, grant this lowly soul a vessel to inhabit.]
[Master, please!]
The Undying Ones mored in unison, their ethereal voices piercing his thoughts.
[Shut up!] Viserys snapped, his patience wearing thin.
To him, these spirits were tools, nothing more. He would never forgive those who had once sought to kill him, and mercy was out of the question.
I will decide when to release you, he hissed in his mind. Anyone who dares to speak out of turn will have their soul obliterated!
The threat worked. Silence fell among the Undying Ones.
Refocusing on the grotesque scene before him, Viserys made a swift decision. Tyrias experiments and its grotesque remnants were a blightproof of their decline and corruption.
Remove all written materials here, he ordered coldly. Burn everything else. Quarantine the people handling this ce for observation before releasing them.
The destruction would ensure safety, and the written materials might provide insights without preserving the horrors themselves.
With theboratory dealt with, Viserys shifted his attention to the next challenge: making contact with the people of the Doom Ruins.
Shieranow known as Shireehad recently felt the call of House Sennesta from within those ruins, suggesting there might be a conflict of interest. Still, Viserys believed negotiation was possible. His primary goal was obtaining Dragonbones, which held no apparent value to the Doom Ruins inhabitants. In essence, he was offering to clean their "rubbish" and improve their environment in return.
He had no interest in venturing into the treacherous heart of Valyria itself. For now, collecting Dragonbone from the "suburbs" was sufficient.
Yet, there was one matter he needed answers towhat exactly had the Tyrians done to Princess Aerea? The mystery gnawed at him, and as a father, it had be personal.
Viserys had immersed himself fully in the struggles of this world, determined to secure the future of his descendants. He couldnt bear the thought of House Targaryen suffering another downfall. This time, his enemies would pay dearly, starting with the resolution of Princess Aereas plight.
It was not just for vengeance but to send a clear message to the shadows: meddling with the Targaryens carried an unthinkable cost. He needed order and stability before he could turn his full attention to the ultimate threatthe Night King.
Since travel through Valyrias outskirts was fraught with danger, Viserys devised an alternate n. He had a printing press brought down from his ship to produce negotiation documents.
In just one day, 10,000 copies of a brief, single-page document werepleted.
Hali, you are not allowed to go, Viserys dered firmly, stepping forward to stop her. He noticed that Hali was preparing to ride the dragon alongside him to Valyria.
Why, Father? I can help you, Hali replied, her confusion evident.
Valyria is too dangerous. You know that. The ck Dread likely received his wounds there.
But I can be invisible. You''ve seen that, she argued, a spark of defiance in her tone.
Thats not an option... Viserys began, only for Hali to cut him off.
Father, you have ten children, but you are the only father they have. Hali and Hermine look exactly the same. Even if Im not there...
Who taught you to say such things? Viserys interrupted, his voice rising slightly with irritation. The many advisers and military officers nearby made his pride as a father sting even more.
Hali, however, seemed entirely unaware of any offense. She simply looked at Viserys with her striking heterochromatic eyes, her expression steady.
Ill go with you, she insisted.
At that moment, Valsha approached, riding her dragon. As the massive creaturended beside them, everyone instinctively stepped back. Compared to Viserys dragon, Valshas was unnervingly grotesquea beast that seemed more like a decaying specter than a living creature.
Some whispered of it as the "wight dragon." Its pallid, thin frame was riddled with holes, the wings appearing tattered and skeletal. The sight of it was enough to make even seasoned warriors uneasy.
When the timees, I will kill all Sennestas with my own hands, Valsha dered, her voice cold and resolute.
We may not necessarily go to war with them, Viserys countered.
That is my business. You dont need to concern yourself, Valsha shot back, before urging her dragon upward into the crimson-hued sky, apanied by her four simrly skeletal dragons.
Once she was gone, Viserys turned back to Hali. His tone was sharp. Dont ever speak to your father like that again! He mounted his yellow dragon and took off, leaving Hali behind.
The green dragon, loyal only to Viserysmand, refused to take Hali to the Ruins of Doom. Watching her father leave, Hali stood in silence, a hint of despondence in her posture.
Arya, noticing her mood, approached gently. Princess, in His Graces eyes, you are different from Princess Hermine. No one can rece you.
But Halis reaction was unexpected. But this is just a simple problem of mathematics.
Mathematics... Arya repeated, her mouth twitching slightly as the subject veered into territory she wasnt confident in.
The five dragons reached the Ruins of Doom in just an hour. As they descended to a lower altitude, Viserys and Valsha began their search. Below them stretched a deste expanse, a stark contrast to the well-preserved Tyria. The ruins, bathed in perpetual red light, were overrun by reddish-orange vegetation.
Among the growth, nts of the Convolvceae family, resembling morning glories, climbed the remnants of dragon statues scattered throughout the ruins. Over the centuries, they seemed to have overtaken the grandeur of Valyria inch by inch.
To survey the entire area by dragon would take at least half an hour. As Viserys scanned the ruins, he recalled what he had read in books. Valyria, during its peak, had boasted a poption in the tens of millions. Such a metropolis was unimaginable now. Even Kings Landing struggled to manage half a million residents.
It made sense when one considered the Valyrian social structure. The forty Dragonlord houses aloneprised one to two thousand people, the pinnacle of nobility. Adding their allied families brought the total to over ten thousanda staggering number of elites. Beyond them, ordinary Valyrians enjoyed rtive peace and prosperity, benefiting from the best aspects of their civilization.
But the peace of some came at the cost of others. Borrowing from the Old Empire of Ghis, Valyria had relied on an enormous poption of ves. Beneath the Fourteen mes alone, millions of ve miners toiled. Countless others served as domestic ves, sustaining the opulence of the Valyrian elite.
Despite the ruins'' scale and the weight of history they carried, Viserys and Valsha found no signs of lifeno intact structures, no inhabitants. It was as though the citys grandeur had been utterly erased.
Just as they were about to leave, a strange noise interrupted their thoughts. A buzzing sound filled the air, rising in intensity. It was like the collective hum of countless giant wasps descending upon them.
Chapter 437: The Dragon Battles in the Wild
Chapter 437: The Dragon Battles in the Wild
The ruins of Doom were immense, sprawling far and wide, and the two of them flew low to get a closer look. This proximity distracted them, and they failed to notice where the danger came from.
Suddenly, the riders on the dragons back looked up and saw a massive swarm of blood-red flying insects hurtling toward them. Despite being called insects, these creatures were farrger than typical bugseach was roughly the size of a rabbit.
What made Viserys categorize them as insects were their wings. These translucent appendages, veined like blood vessels, were elongated and thin, resembling mosquito wings magnified hundreds of times. The swarm, dense and crimson, resembled a blood mist, skillfully splitting into two groups to encircle Viserys and Valsha individually.
As the creatures drew closer, Viserys observed their peculiar mouthparts, which reminded him of Firewyrmshe had encountered before. Their round mouths were nked by several tentacle-like appendages, likely sensory organs.
When facing insects, fire is often the first thought.
Draca Viserys began tomand his mount to unleash dragonfire, but his words trailed off. Something felt wrong. Could these creatures be connected to the attack on Princess Aerea?
He recalled the horrifying ount of a parasite that had infested Aereas body. The Maester''s records described how they submerged Aerea, feverish and delirious, into icy water, forcing a swarm of slender parasites to emerge from her skin.
Even Balerion, the ck Dread, bore a jagged wound, which Viserys had long suspected resulted from a powerful assault. However, he noted that such parasites could also cause simr wounds. Theirrvae migrated within a host''s body, creating ulcers that eventually became jagged scars.
These blood-red insects were clearly unbothered by heat; they seemed to thrive in it. Quickly strategizing, Viserysmanded the yellow dragon to beat its wings fiercely, generating powerful gusts. The n worked. The blood-mist-like swarm scattered as if a colossal fan had sliced through smoke. Many of the flying insects, unable to maintain their flight, tumbled to the ground in disarray.
Even so, Viserys didnt lower his guard. He directed the yellow dragon to ascend rapidly into the sky. Though the insects were fast, their bulky forms limited their altitude. Sure enough, once they reached 400 or 500 meters, the insects ceased their pursuit, unable to climb higher.
Now at a safe height, Viserys turned his attention to Valsha. She was in dire straits. The red swarm had nearly engulfed her, and her dragon was struggling. Instead of fire, the creature exhaled only grayish-brown smoke. It was then that Viserys realized Valshas dragon couldnt breathe fire at all. It couldnt even roar, merely wheezing as it grappled with the insects.
Watching her four awkward gray dragons flounder, Viserys shouted, Valsha! Fly higher!
He was prepared to intervene. After all, Valsha was a guest he had personally invited, and if she were injured, he wouldnt hesitate to help. Hearing his call, Valsha urged her dragon upward.
Just then, a loud dragon roar split the air, startling both riders.
Its Hali! What is that girl doing here, of all times? Viserys heart sank.
Trouble. His first thought was how much hed need to scold herter.
But before he could dwell on it, his focus shifted. Three dragons emerged into view, none belonging to him.
The dragon at the center was bronze, nked by one to the left, a rust-red, and one to the right, a striking purple. Each carried a rider, their silhouettes cutting through the sky.
House Sennesta?!
The three riders hovered before Viserys and his yellow dragon, their features unmistakable under the sunlight. Silver-haired with piercing purple eyes, they were true Valyrians, every bit as striking as the legends suggested.
You are Viserys Targaryen? the leader asked, his tone sharp.
Viserys, surprised that they knew his name, quickly reasoned that it wasnt unusual. If they had been in contact with Shiera or Shiree, his identity would have been easy to ascertain.
The leader, who rode the bronze dragon, wore a ruby-red hairband that gleamed against his deep purple eyes. His gaze was icy, while the two knights nking hima rider of a rust-red dragon and one of a purple dragonwatched Viserys with thinly veiled contempt.
Viserys chose to stayposed. Though his side had more dragons, the advantage was questionable. Valshas control over her dragons was far from proficient; the four gray beasts under hermand moved clumsily, as though impaired.
It was like pitting a healthy warrior against three well-trained opponents while being burdened by four injured allies. At best, her dragons were liabilities.
Yes, my lords, Viserys answered evenly, keeping his tone polite. He was about to exin his purpose when Valsha interrupted sharply, her voice cutting through the tension like a de.
She flew up to Viseryss right, ring at the trio with unrestrained anger.
Are you from House Sennesta?
Her tone was usatory, and Viserys noticed her condition for the first time. Her face and arms were covered in red welts, no doubt from the bites of those blood-red insects earlier.
The rider on the purple dragonhis delicate, almost feminine features framed by flowing silver hairsmirked as he gathered his hair over one shoulder.
Who are you? he asked dismissively.
Admit it? Valsha hissed, her voice trembling with fury. I am Valsha of Chroyane. You destroyed Chroyane and killed my family!
The three knights exchanged amused nces. Then the purple dragon rider replied mockingly, Who?
Valshas eyes went bloodshot as she screamed in rage, charging at them with her four gray dragons.
Viserys clenched his teeth. He had known this confrontation was inevitable the moment he told Valsha about House Sennestas rumored presence in the Ruins of Doom. Now, there was no stopping her.
As he prepared to intervene, the bronze dragon knight with the ruby-red hairband maneuvered to block his path, holding up a pamphlet in one hand.
You wanted to see me. Where are you going? he asked with a smirk.
The ruby-haired knights confidence was unnerving. Although Viseryss yellow dragon wasrger and theoretically more powerful, the knights demeanor suggested he was certain of victory.
The dragons shed with a deafening impact, their sturdy hind legs testing each others strength. The yellow dragon,rger and stronger, managed to shove its opponent off bnce. But the bronze dragon, under the knights expert control, recovered with astonishing speed, lunging for the yellow dragons left wing.
The attack was so swift that Viserys could barely react. A chunk of wing, the size of a basin, was torn away, and the yellow dragon let out a pained roar, its green, gem-like eyes zing with fury.
Dark mes erupted from its jaws, but the bronze dragon evaded them with ease.
Viserys, do you know how old my dragon is? the ruby-haired knight taunted. One hundred and sixteen years. How old is yours? Sixteen?
One hundred and sixteen years? Viserys thought, his mind racing. How could a dragon that old be just twenty meters long?
Distracted, he nced toward Valsha. One of her gray dragons had lost a wing and was plummeting toward the ground, while another was pinned under a red dragons talons. Valsha herself was in terrible shape, her body scorched and her dragon struggling to stay aloft.
It was chaoslike watching two martial artists toy with a pack of wounded dogs.
Sensing Viseryss distraction, the ruby-haired knight seized the moment. The bronze dragon lunged forward again.
Since youre here for the bones, the knight sneered, youd better get down on the ground!
Chapter 438: The Dragon Battles in the Wild II
Chapter 438: The Dragon Battles in the Wild II
Viserys quickly realized that his dragon-fighting skills were no match for his opponents expertise. Growing up among the skies filled with Targaryen dragons, he had never needed to practice airbat, much less anticipate encountering other dragons in the Ruins of Doom.
As for why the other knights dragon was over a century old but only twenty meters long, that was a mystery for another time. Right now, he needed topensate for hisck of skill with his other talents.
He reached for his Dragonbone bow, nocking an arrow with practiced speed.
Whoosh!
A white streak flew through the air toward the Bronze Dragons eye. The red-haired knight sneered as he maneuvered his dragon to evade the projectile, closing the gap between them rapidly.
Though the knight had noticed Viserys''sck of aerialbat prowess, he still maintained caution, his skill far outmatching Viseryss. Within seconds, the distance between the two was reduced to a mere hundred metersa fleeting moment at such speeds.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Viserys loosed three more arrows in quick session. One was dodged, while the other two struck the Bronze Dragon''s head. However, the arrows failed to prate its hardened, century-old scales.
The distance between them dwindled to less than ten meters, close enough for their hair to whip in the wind around their faces. The ruby-haired knights dark purple eyes gleamed with excitement. It was his chance to truly test his dragon in battle.
The Bronze Dragon lunged, its massive maw lined with jagged teeth capable of tearing through an elephant. Its red-ck tongueshed forward, and the acrid stench of sulfur filled the air.
But before the beast could snap its jaws shut, Viserys whipped out two long-barreled muskets from behind him.
A flicker of doubt passed through the knights eyes, but there was no time to react.
Bang! Bang!
Two bursts of me erupted from the musket barrels, followed by plumes of white smoke. Blood sprayed from the Bronze Dragon''s mouth, staining its teeth red.
The makeshift firearms, though rudimentarypared to modern designs, were effective. If Viserys had been able to machine rifled barrels, he wouldnt have had to get this close for the shot.
The wounds werent fatal, but they were enough to throw the Bronze Dragon off bnce. Its movements grew erratic, and the Yellow Dragon seized the opening, biting down hard on its throat.
The Bronze Dragon reflexively kicked out with its hind legs, trying to shake the Yellow Dragon loose, but its unbnced state left it vulnerable. Viserys took the opportunity to hurl one of the muskets directly at the knights head.
The weapons butt struck the ruby-encrusted hairband with a sharp crack, sending the knight reeling. His vision darkened, and he lost consciousness, slumping against his dragons saddle.
From Viseryss vantage point, the knight and his Bronze Dragon were in freefall. The Yellow Dragon kept its grip on the Bronze Dragons throat, shaking violently as blood sprayed in scalding streams. Within moments, the Bronze Dragons strength faded, its dying wails reverberating through the air.
The sound drew the attention of the other two knights battling Valsha.
By now, Valsha had only two of her four dragons left. One of them had its right hind leg torn off at the hip. Despite the grievous injury, the gray dragon stayed aloft, likely due to its diminished pain sensitivity. Otherwise, it would have crashed long ago.
You actually killed Kynar! the knight on the purple dragon shouted, his face contorted with fury. The cold beauty of his features twisted into a menacing snarl. His frozen blue-violet eyes burned with rage.
Viserys, however, spared no time for conversation. He didnt care about Kynar or the knights anger. This was a fight for survival, and he had his own tactics to employ.
Reaching into the saddlebag strapped to the Yellow Dragon, Viserys retrieved three Molotov cocktails. With precision born of urgency, he hurled them toward the Purple Dragon Knight.
The knight instinctively dodged, but the projectiles exploded midair, unleashing bright yellow-green mes that bloomed like fiery chrysanthemums.
The Molotov cocktails contained a sticky, adhesive substance that clung to whatever it touched. The knight and his dragon were instantly engulfed in mes, the fire spreading rapidly across their bodies.
The knight screamed in pain as the inferno consumed him, his purple dragon thrashing wildly in the air. The bright, burning spectacle illuminated the battlefield, turning the tide decisively in Viseryss favor.
Wildfire! How dare you use wildfire during a dragon fight, you madman!
The Purple Dragon Knights voice rang out, a mixture of shock and fury. He knew the risks. Wildfire, infamous for its vtile nature, was almost suicidal to use near dragons. The natural body temperature of a dragon, anywhere between 40 to 60 degrees Celsius, made its presence a dangerous gamble.
Only Dany, the Unburnt, could wield such fire without riskbut Viserys wasnt Dany.
Unbeknownst to the knight, Viserys had used a diluted form of wildfire, focusing on its sticky properties rather than its extreme heat. Though less intense than traditional wildfire, it was still potent enough to overwhelm anyone without fire immunity.
The mes that clung to the Purple Dragon Knights body threw him into disarray, disrupting his control over his mount. Viserys seized the opportunity, drawing his bow and firing a well-aimed shot.
The arrow struck true, piercing the knights brow. His body slumped lifelessly in the saddle, and his dragon, now free from its riders influence, transformed into a wild and feral beast.
Wasting no time, Viserys retrieved the Dragons Horn from his saddle.
The pitch-ck horn gleamed with a warm, eerie luster as he blew into it. A deep, resonant sound echoed across the battlefield, and golden runes on the horn red to life, one after another, radiating light.
The purple dragons obsidian-like eyes grew hazy, as if caught in a trance. Without hesitation, Viserys leaped from the back of his yellow dragon onto the purple dragons broad, me-scorched shoulders.
He channeled the soul of an Undying One into the dragons body, a risky but calcted move. Almost immediately, a piercing, inhuman scream erupted in his mind, a testament to the Undying Ones inability to control the dragons primal essence. The soul burned away, consumed by the creatures innate power.
Despite the bacsh, the effect was clearthe dragon feared Viserys now and hesitated to defy him. With this tenuous control, the battlefield shifted dramatically. What had been a lopsided 5-on-3 fight was now a 4-on-1 advantage for Viserys and Valsha.
Thest of the Sennesta knights, the rider of the red dragon, was visibly shaken. His expression turned grim as he watched Viseryss audacious maneuver. Without wasting another second, he wheeled his dragon away from the battlefield, retreating into the distance.
Viserys prepared to give chase, but Valshas voice stopped him.
Dont bother. He wontst long, she said weakly.
Valshas gray dragon couldnt breathe fire, but it exhaled a mistced with a strengthened form of grayscale. The red dragon and its rider had been exposed to this toxic fog, and it wouldnt be long before the disease rendered them both incapable of fightingor surviving.
Viserys paused, calcting his next move. The oue of the battle had been decisive, but questions lingered. How many more dragons did House Sennesta possess? If this had been their full force, then the next challengey in dealing with the blood-red insects that gued the ruins.
Despite the looming uncertainties, the victory had its rewards. Capturing a dragona stunning purple one, no lesswas an extraordinary feat. The purple dragon reminded him of a lost opportunity he had once mourned: the inability to secure the purple dragon egg fossil from the Roth family. Today, that regret was reced by triumph.
But as the thrill of victory settled, Viserys noticed something rming. Valsha, still perched on her gray dragon, began to sway unsteadily.
Oh no!
The memory of the blood-red flying insects from earlier struck him like a thunderbolt.
The bites!
Chapter 439: Peace Talks?
Chapter 439: Peace Talks?
Even for a parasite, this progression was rmingly fast. The battle hadsted less than an hour, yet in those fleeting minutes, the eggs of the blood-red flying insects had begun to hatch within Valsha.
Viserys acted quickly. He spotted arge, ckened pond nearby and directed his dragon to p its wings, clearing away theyer of ash that nketed the surface. Once the water was exposed, he carried Valsha to the pond andid her in it.
Her pale skin had turned an angry red, and subtle movements were already visible beneath the skin near her woundsa sickening sign of the parasites growing inside her.
cing a hand on her forehead, Viserys felt the intense heat radiating from her. Her body temperature was nearing that of a dangerous fever.
His thoughts shed back to the haunting ounts of Princess Aerea. At her worst, her body temperature was described as so high that her eyeballs boiled in their sockets, and ck smoke poured from her nose, mouth, and other orifices.
Valsha wasnt at that point yet, but she was on the brink. And unlike the Targaryens, who were naturally more resistant to heat, Valsha might not survive much longer without intervention.
My blood magic can only heal, not kill, Viserys thought grimly.
The Maesters records said these parasites fear the cold, but theres no ice water here. The wizards might be able to create a low temperature, but...
For now, he did what he could. Using his blood magic, he provided a basic treatment to stabilize her. Her body temperature seemed to drop slightly, and the wriggling beneath her skin lessened. Satisfied she could survive the journey, he mounted his dragon and flew back to Tyria with haste.
When Viserys arrived at the camp, his arrival caused an immediate stir.
A purple dragon? Your Grace has brought back a new dragon! eximed Eddard Umber, his voice filled with excitement.
While the full details of what had transpired in the Ruins of Doom were unknown, the addition of a new dragon was clearly a cause for celebration. The army buzzed with curiosity and spection. What could have happened in the Ruins to allow for another dragon to be captured?
Some of the shrewder observers whispered theories. If there were still dragons alive in the Ruins, what else could be hidden there?
Hali, who had been patrolling the area on her own dragon since Viserys had barred her from apanying him to the Doom, quickly returned upon spotting the yellow dragon from afar.
She dismounted and made her way to the purple dragon, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. Up close, she could see it was unlike the dragons raised in her House.
The dragons of her family always regarded their riders with gentle, almost affectionate expressions. This demeanor was markedly different from the chronicles of old Valyria, which spoke of Targaryens who were injuredor even killedwhile attempting to tame their dragons.
Even Nymerion, the familys most ill-tempered ck dragon, disyed surprising patience when Willem rambled on about mundane matters.
But the purple dragon was different. Its gaze was filled with fear as it watched Hali approach.
Cautiously, she edged closer and ced her hand on the dragons jaw, stroking it gently. The dragon flinched at first, but as Hali continued, its tension eased, and its guard began to drop.
Behind her, however, a low, grumbling cry broke the moment. The green dragon she had arrived with nudged her sharply with its head.
It was jealous.
Hali sighed, stepping away from the purple dragon to cate her own mount.
When Hali asked about her father, Lord Eddard Umber responded hesitantly, his voice tinged with nervousness.
Your Grace, His Grace is in the underground fortress. Hes given strict orders that no one is to disturb him.
What? Is Father hurt? Halis tone turned anxious, her concern evident.
No, no, Princess, Eddard quickly assured her. His Grace is fine.
Then whats wrong with him?
At that moment, Viserys was immersed in treating Valsha, aided by a group of warlocks. They had ced her in arge tub of magically cooled ice water to reduce her fever.
Before long, thread-like, transparentrvae began to emerge from her wounds. These grotesque parasites floated in the water, writhing like overgrown mosquitorvae. Their tails acted like coiled springs, propelling them in erratic, jerking movements.
Valshas body bore dozens of bite wounds, and the sheer number ofrvae being forced out was horrifying. The surface of the water was soon teeming with the squirming creaturesa sight enough to make anyones stomach churn.
When Valsha was removed from the tub, her body temperature had dropped significantly. While this meant she was out of immediate danger, it also confirmed that she would not be able to apany any further expeditions into Valyria. The parasitic insects were far too aggressive, effectively rendering the ruins a death trap for ordinary explorers.
Later, Viserys conducted tests on thervae. He discovered that they entered a state of dormancy when exposed to the cold but revived when warmed. rmingly, they were also highly resistant to fire, capable of surviving direct exposure to mes for over ten minutes.
This resilience raised unsettling questions. There was no guarantee that such parasites were confined to the Ruins of Doom. They could potentially infest the surrounding Valyrian suburbs as well.
Despite these risks, Viserys pushed forward with the mining operation. With over 10 million people in Westeros depending on the resources, he had little choice. Moreover, the abundance of prisoners in Tyria made for an expendable workforce.
Thus, therge-scale mining effort began, with tens of thousands of workers extracting Dragonbones at an impressive rate of 40 to 50 pieces per day.
For three months, the mining operation proceeded smoothly. Surprisingly, there were no attacks by the blood-red flying insects, nor did the dreaded Firewyrms make an appearance.
Viserys kept abreast of developments in Westeros through his dreams and conversations with Dany.
For now, theres no indication that the Night King will continue his southward invasion, Dany reported. Benerros research on the Dragonbone Tower has been sessful. It can fully counteract the effects of the Icebone Tower. With enough of them, well be able tounch an offensive.
Excellent, Viserys replied. The second shipment of Dragonbones is on its way, but Ill need to stay here for another six months to oversee things.
Dany expressed disappointment at the dy. The Sennestas havent reappeared? she asked.
Not recently, Viserys said. If theyre willing to submit, I might send someone to rece me. Once the Sennesta problem is resolved, the Doom will be far less dangerous. Monterys could easily manage it after that.
Dany hesitated before mentioning something on her mind. Speaking of him... hes been spending a lot of time with Myrce. Ive sent her to Tyrosh.
Viserys nodded in agreement. Its for the best. Myrce isnt worthy of the Vryon name. Shes just a bastard, and a union between them would tarnish our familys reputation.
Ill arrange for him to marry someone from Oldtown, Highgarden, or Dorne, Dany suggested. Hes been managing the grain shipments to the south, so hell have plenty of opportunities to meet someone suitable.
With the logistical matters addressed, Dany changed the subject to something more personal.
Brother, look, she said, her voice softening. This is our second child. She described the baby in vivid detail, noting how the Holy Sisters who cared for him often said he bore a striking resemnce to their brother, Rhaegar.
Viserys smiled as he imagined the strong, healthy boy. But before the conversation could continue, a knock at the door interrupted him.
Your Grace, said Young Connington. There are people iming to be from House Sennesta. They request an audience with you.
House Sennesta? Viserys sat up, his mind racing.
Valsha had told him that the escaped Dragonknight had contracted a form of enhanced grayscale. If the disease had spread among their ranks, it was likely that this delegation was here to seek his help. If so, the power dynamic had shifted entirely in his favor.
With the Sennestas weakened, the risks of mining the Doom would be greatly diminished, and the vast stockpiles of Valyria could finally be exploited.
However, there was one major obstacle: Valsha.
As the only one capable of curing the enhanced grayscale, her cooperation was crucial. Without her, any peace negotiations would be impossible.
Very well, Viserys said. Ill meet with them. Notify Valsha and have her brought here as well.
Young Connington hesitated before delivering the news.
Your Grace, Princess Valsha has already left.
What? Viseryss voice rose in disbelief.
Chapter 440: The Black Dread’s Past
Chapter 440: The ck Dreads Past
Valsha wanted them dead, while Viserys sought to make them advisers.
This time, the Sennesta House had sent five representatives. Their leader was a woman with a pale, almost sicklyplexion, wearing an orange scarf draped elegantly around her neck. Despite her frail appearance, her every movement exuded dignity, leaving no doubt that she was their undisputed leader. The four individuals apanying her treated her with a reverence bordering on worship.
Although they had arranged enough chairs for the group, the fourpanions chose to stand behind her instead.
Fortunately, Valsha refrained from starting a conflict with them.
When Viserys arrived, Valsha and the members of House Sennesta turned their heads in unison. The woman in the orange-and-yellow scarf knelt gracefully, lowering herself onto one knee.
Your Grace Viserys, she said, her voice sincere and steady, I am Lorarys, the leader of the Sennesta House. We seek to serve as advisers to House Targaryen and humbly beg you to relieve our suffering.
Her earnestness caught Viserys off guard, leaving many of his prepared responses unnecessary.
Im sorry, he replied, his tone measured. I cannot relieve your suffering. She can. He gestured toward Valsha.
After months of struggle, the Sennesta House was at the brink of copse. Almost all of its members had contracted grayscale. The few who hade today were among thest healthy members of the family.
At Viseryss words, Lorarys turned without hesitation. Kneeling before Valsha, she repeated her plea with the same sincerity and humility.
Her seamless transformation from one position to the next was remarkablefluid and without a trace of resistance. Suchposure and resolve were rare.
Valsha felt a swell of satisfaction at seeing her once-proud enemy humbled before her. Yet at the same time, she couldnt help but scorn Loraryss submissive attitude.
With a sudden burst of cruelty, Valsha stood and kicked Lorarys squarely in the face. The force of the blow sent the silk scarf tumbling from Loraryss neck, exposing a swath of rough, gray-green skinclear evidence of her own infection with grayscale.
Lorarys had hidden it well, like any woman mindful of her appearance. But the truth was now in for all to see.
The four individuals standing behind Lorarys moved instinctively to defend her. Despite their youth, their anger was palpable, shing vividly in their purple eyes.
Viserys hurried forward to ensure Valsha wouldnte to harm, but Lorarys swiftly raised a hand to stop herpanions.
Why should I save you? Valsha asked coldly, her voice sharp with disdain.
Loraryss reply was steady, her gaze unwavering. It is true that the Sennesta family led the spice war. I know we cannot undo the harm we caused. Prince Garin is the Lord of Chroyane and the patriarch of your family. I am the leader of the Sennesta family. I offer my life in atonement. I only beg you to spare the other members of our House.
Her words were unflinchingly honest. She intended to trade her life to soothe Valshas fury.
Valsha, whose emotional maturity still bore the marks of youth, was unprepared for such self-sacrifice. Faced with her former enemy kneeling in submission, Valsha hesitated. The act of taking Loraryss life now seemed less satisfying.
Of course, I will kill you! Valsha dered, her face stern. Yet, as the words left her lips, she froze, unsure of what to say next.
At that moment, two silver-haired warriors dragged forward a grotesque creature and ced it before Viserys. The sight of the creature caused everyone to instinctively step back.
Its body was somewhat bloated, with a disheveled mane of hair, though the left side of its head was bald. Upon closer inspection, two additional faces were grotesquely fused onto the back of its head.
This abomination was none other than On, the leader of Tyria.
Suppressing a wave of nausea, Viserys noted that On''s body bore the telltale marks of rampant grayscale disease. Gray-green patches marred his chest and abdomen, while his hands and feet trembled unsteadily.
Lorarys had brought this creature forward as a gesture to curry favor with Viserys. She understood clearly that he was the more rational figure, the one who could truly aid her.
Kneeling before him once more, she turned to face Viserys and said,
Your Grace, I have uncovered everything I could about Princess Aerea.
Lorarys began recounting the tale, starting with the strange insect they had encountered, known as the Scorched Blood Wyrma gic hybrid of a Firewyrm and some other flying creature. She then detailed all she knew of Princess Aereas fate.
When Aerea arrived at the Doom Ruins astride her dragon, the ck Deathan enormous beast over 100 meters longshe immediately drew the attention of the House of Sennesta. After an emergencynding following an attack, the Sennesta demanded she leave the ck Death behind. Aerea refused. In the chaos that followed, fate led her to Tyria.
The people of Tyria captured her and, horrifyingly, demanded she bear their children. Lorarys refrained from borating further; the grim details needed no exnation. Aerea eventually fled on the ck Death, but she was gravely weakened. Worse still, the dragons natural high body temperature had caused the rapid growth of the Blood Wyrms.
As the dragons grew, their body temperatures would have risen dramatically. With the ck Death being hundreds of meters long, you can imagine how intense the heat was, Lorarys exined.
For now, Viserys believed her. Tyria was now under his control, so verifying her ount would not be difficult.
Lorarys did not attempt to absolve herself of guilt but admitted her role without hesitation. She then continued,
The Sennesta of Valyria are willing to offer their services. I know Your Grace seeks a way to defeat the Icebone Tower. The Sennesta House possesses the necessary heritage to assist youplease, save my family.
It was clear this information hade from Shiree. The bloodline bond between Shiree and the Sennesta family left her with no secrets from them.
Viserys mulled this over. Could he truly trust a house capable of producing such cunning minds, one steeped in such ancient history? The idea of injecting the souls of the Undying Ones into Lorarys crossed his mind, but before he could act on it, the absorbed souls screamed in protest.
''Master, no! We cannot upy the body of a Dragonlord!''
''But youve already taken over Varys body,'' Viserys countered.
''That is because he is an eunuch, my lord. The full body of a Dragonlord is beyond us.''
Viserys trusted that these entities would not dare to lie to him. If he were to defeat the Night King, he would need to take this gamble. For now, he turned his attention to strengthening the Dragonbone Tower, a task that would require Valshas cooperation.
Before he could even broach the subject, Valsha surprised him by speaking first.
I can save you, she said, but you must help me rebuild Chroyane.
Her reaction was unexpected. For someone who had harbored a grudge for centuries, such a concession was remarkable.
Chapter 441: The Night King’s Submarine
Chapter 441: The Night Kings Submarine
The Sennesta family had safeguarded forty-seven dragon eggs, their entire reserve. A dragon typicallyys only two or three clutches of eggs in its lifetime, with each clutch containing no more than five eggs. The intervals between clutches could span ten to twenty years.
Viserys did the math. Excluding the newly captured purple dragon, the four female dragons in the Sennesta family wouldy roughly twenty to thirty eggs over the next two decadesa sluggish pace, but understandable given the rarity of dragons. These werent chicken eggs, after all. By the end of his life, Viserys calcted that the House would have at least a hundred dragons, a formidable number.
However, the terms of Sennestas allegiance stipted that they could no longer keep dragons themselves. Any dragon infected with grayscale disease was an exception, belonging to Valsha. This agreement marked only the beginning of a long road toward fully subjugating House Sennesta.
To ensure their loyalty, intermarriage within their house was forbidden, and all female descendants were to marry into the Targaryen family. Viserys intended to leave those marriage arrangements to his sons. While eliminating potential rivals early was prudent, House Sennestas knowledge of crafting an enhanced Dragonbone Tower and their extensive collection of Valyrian magical spells made them indispensable allies.
The old adage rang true:
Without a powerful family backing you in politics, youre no match for foreign powers. If Viserys did not take action, his descendants would likely engage in infighting within the next century or two. Allowing House Sennesta to survive and serve as a strategic tool would help slow that decline.
With his ambition extending another eighty or ny years, Viserys saw House Sennesta as a whetstone for sharpening his de.
After formalizing their allegiance, he visited their underground fortress. Built during the Valyrian era, the Sennesta dungeon spanned the size of sixteen football fields. It was part of a vastwork of underground pces and facilities known collectively as the Valyrian Dungeon.
The lighting in these dungeons was remarkably advanced, with chandeliers resembling dense constetions controlled by magic to simte day and night cycles. Though spacious as a refuge, the dungeon was austere and unsuitable forrger-scale habitation or breeding.
Due to resource constraints, House Sennesta had carefully controlled its poption. Currently, the houseprised only about 100 members, while the broader "noble ss" numbered roughly 1,000. Includingmoners and ves, their total poption fell short of 100,000. The devastation caused by rampaging Firewyrms through the Doom Ruins had further shrunk their living space.
Before departing, Viserys made a grim disy by hanging the three-headed, five-faced Onon a gpole, leaving it to be devoured by the Blood Wyrms.
Turning to Young Connington, he said, Youve always been my right-hand man. Ive watched you grow, and I entrust the mining of Dragonbone entirely to you.
As he reached out to adjust Young Conningtons cor, he hesitated, recalling hisints during their time in Braavos. Instead, he gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.
Young Connington, brimming with excitement at earning Viseryss trust, stood rigid, muscles taut with anticipation.
Your Grace can rest assured, Young Connington said. All the Dragonbones will be delivered to Kings Landing intact!
Viserys departed with the army he had brought from Westeros, leaving the remaining forces to continue extracting Dragonbones. Most of House Sennestas people boarded warships bound for Westeros, while Viserys flew back to Kings Landing atop a dragon, apanied by Hali.
Lorarys, the Sennesta matriarch and expert on the "enhanced" Dragonbone Tower, was also transported back to Kings Landing by dragon.
Viseryss eagerness to return to Kings Landing had been growing. He suspected Sansas youngest daughter, Rhaebetter known as Rhaellewas causing trouble again. Though anxious, he tempered his pace to avoid missteps.
After five long days of travel, he finally reached the Narrow Sea.
The Narrow Sea was teeming with ships, the Imperial fleet forming a near-continuous presence across the waters. Their mission was critical: to prevent the White Walkers from breaching the Free Cities aboard ice vessels or bypassing Viserys''s coastal defenses to strike the south. While maintaining such a fleet consumed vast resources, the war against the Night King was an existential battle. No one wished to wake to the terror of a White Walker attack in the dead of night.
Though the Night King had remained dormant for half a year, the memory of the previous war in the North loomedrge. No one dared to growcent. It was now evident that the Long Night was inextricably linked to the Night King himself. The southern skies retained a faint brightnesspared to the north''s oppressive darkness, offering a glimmer of hope: perhaps killing the Night King would finally banish the eternal night. But the question lingeredwhat unimaginable power did the Night King wield to shroud the skies and the world in this endless cold?
Flying low over the waves, Viserys scanned the sea aboard Hali, his dragon. Sailors and soldiers aboard the warships below spotted the dragon and knelt in reverence, bowing toward their king. Hali acknowledged them with a resounding roar that echoed over the waters.
Hali, do you want to rest? Viserys murmured, patting the dragons neck.
Although Kings Landingy northwest of Valyria, Viserys chose a more circuitous route. He first headed for the Stepstones before turning north, carefully monitoring the sea for any signs of a surprise attack from the Night King.
By his calctions, Kings Landing was still half a days journey away. The closestnd to him now was Summerhall, the former pce reborn as a new city after the Usurper''s War. Following the war, Storms End had been demolished, its materials repurposed to construct Summerhall, which had since grown into a bustling settlement with a permanent poption nearing 100,000.
Father, lets go back early, a soft voice urged.
Okay, Viserys replied, nodding in agreement.
Just as he was about to have Hali increase their speed, Lorarys, seated behind him on the dragon, suddenly eximed,
Your Grace, look! Over there!
Viserys followed her pointed finger and spottedrge, milky-white ice blocks littering the shoreline. From their altitude, they appeared inconspicuous, like natural chunks of drift ice. But as Viserys lowered Halis flight path for a closer look, he quickly realized something was amiss.
The ice blocks were enormous, each measuring ten to twenty meters in diameter. Some were so massive they could be described as small icebergs. They seemed to have been swept ashore by the waves, and the sight of them chilled Viserys to the bone.
Turning his gaze toward the sea, he noticed more such ice blocks floating to the surface, their numbers growing. It was an unnatural phenomenon. Just as he considerednding to investigate further, something horrifying urred.
A humanoid figure emerged from one of the massive ice blocks, its milky-white skin and piercing blue eyes revealing its identity beyond any doubt.
A White Walker.
Chapter 442: Can Spring Be Far Behind?
Chapter 442: Can Spring Be Far Behind?
In King''s Landing, Daenerys stood presiding over the unveiling of the first Dragonbone Tower. The city had recently experienced another snowfall, leaving everything outside the well-heated Dragonpit nketed in silver-white. The pristine coating of snow improved the city''s appearance, but it also brought challenges. While children yed joyfully in the streets, older residents harbored concerns. Snow reaching their ankles meant higher fuel consumption and faster depletion of food stores.
Rumors had spread that the royal family had devised a way tobat the cold, and nearly half of the city had gathered near the Dragon Gate, eager to witness the Dragonbone Towerspletion. This tower, constructed from the remains of the ck Dread, symbolized hopenot only in countering the Night King''s Icebone Tower but also in providing much-needed warmth.
The ck Dread''s massive ck skull, several meters long, had been engraved with intricate golden runes. Its ribs formed the structural support, while wood carvings shaped the towers body to resemble a crouching dragon. The resulting design, though majestic, exuded an approachable charm due to the proportionsthe body was only twice the size of the skull, lending the structure a "cute" appearance.
Now, tens of thousands of people stood fifty meters away, gazing at the tower with anticipation. For most, the promise of warmth eclipsed the distant threat of the Night King. While the Icebone Tower and the Night King''s army were a menace restricted to the North, the cold was an immediate and pervasive enemy. Fuel costs had be an unbearable burden for much of Westeros, and the Dragonbone Tower represented a beacon of hope against the bitter winter.
The gathered crowd, dressed in thick, weather-worn sheepskin coats, murmured amongst themselves. Sheepskin, sourced from the Free Cities and the Dothraki Sea, had be affordable enough for most to wear, a small sce in these harsh times. Steam rose from their breath, illuminated by flickering torches, while the hard, dry ground beneath them radiated the chill into their legs. They stomped their feet and huddled for warmth, all while specting about the Dragonbone Tower.
So, is the Dragonbone Tower just a big furnace? asked a man with a stubby chin and dry, weathered cheeks. Her Grace the Queens supposed to light it herself?
With Viserys away, of course its Daenerys, another replied. And Ill bet its dragon fire she uses to light it!
But whats taking Her Grace so long? the first man grumbled. Why hasnt she lit it yet? Did she forget to bring firewood?
The man''sints earned him a sharp p on the back of the head from an older man nearby.
Mind your tongue! the elder barked. How dare you speak of Her Grace that way?
The stubby-chinned man scowled, rubbing his head. Whats the big deal? Im just saying what everyones thinking!
The older mans voice rose, his anger contagious. What nonsense! If it werent for Their Graces Viserys and Daenerys, wed all be frozen stiff by now! You should be thanking them, not whining like a fool!
Others in the crowd chimed in with agreement.
Exactly! If the usurper were still in power, wed all be dead from the cold!
Shut your foul mouth before you cause more trouble!
Themotion soon caught the attention of the Kingsguard. An Unsullied soldier, standing tall and imposing, parted the crowd to address the disturbance. Speaking fluent Common, he demanded, What is the meaning of this?
After learning the details, the grumbling man was escorted away.
As the words Her Grace ising out spread through the crowd, every head turned toward the Dragonbone Tower. Thousands strained their necks to catch a glimpse of the royal entourage.
A grand royal carriage rolled forward, nked by four dragons of different colors circling above. The Kingsguard, resplendent in their armor, led the way, followed by a procession of court officials and members of House Targaryen.
Thergest carriage halted in the center of the assembly. Daenerys, regal andposed, stepped out with the assistance of her son Willem. Following her, other dignified women emerged from apanying carriages: Shinelli, Margaery, Sansa, and Falia, some carrying children, others visibly pregnant. Each was surrounded by attendants and Cupbearers tasked with both protection and service.
From a short distance, Aemon smiled faintly, his aged face alight with satisfaction as he observed Dany and Willem approach the Dragonbone Tower. Connington and Sam stood nearby, simrly absorbed in the moment. The sessfulpletion of the Dragonbone Tower marked a pivotal moment, one that would make the Long Night far more bearable.
The purple flesh that Viserys returned to us has begun to grow, Sam remarked, his eyes following Dany and her son. Westeross ability to endure this endless cold has improved significantly.
As Daenerys ascended the temporary steps leading to the tower, Sam turned to Connington and asked, Lord Connington, I read that after the dragons became extinct, summers began to shorten. When the Long Night ends, do you think summers will grow longer again?
I suppose so, Connington replied, grinning broadly. The Towerspletion had clearly lifted his spirits, even to the point of humor. You know, Your Grace once told me something quite profound.
Intrigued, Sam asked, What did Your Grace say?
Conningtons grin widened as he recited, He said,
Winter is here, so can spring be far behind?
Sam repeated the words to himself, a hopeful warmth spreading within him.
Winter is here, so can spring be far behind? It was as though the phrase had blown away his worries like a refreshing spring breeze.
Dany and Willem climbed to the top of the tower, which stood over ten meters tall. The young prince ced his small hand on the ck Dreads skull, the surface warm to the touch, and eximed, Its so warm, Mother! He leaned forward, attempting to press his cheek against the skull.
Dany, amused by his childish eagerness, gently pulled him back. Youre a prince now, Willem! Behave yourself, she chided lightly, a smile gracing her lips.
Her gaze lingered on her sons golden crown, which sparkled in the light of the engraved runes. The memory of Viseryss words at a banquet in Braavos years ago suddenly resurfaced:
A crown makes the wearer look taller and symbolizes their status, but its true meaning is that when disaster strikes from the sky, I will protect you all and always look upon you with hope.
Now, both Dany and Willem wore crowns. The golden light reflected from the runes on the ck Dreads skull illuminated their faces, mingling with the hope radiating from the gatheredmoners and the endless snow around them.
As mother and son ced their hands on the skull together, the runes red to life, emitting a soft golden glow that bathed the area in light.
Wow
Its so bright!
The light wasnt blinding, but in the muted gray of the Long Night, it stood out like a beacon of warmth. Momentster, a wave of heat began to emanate from the tower.
Victoria rolled up her sleeve, extending a hand to feel the rising temperature. Margaery, visibly pregnant, inhaled deeply and smiled as the cold, dry air softened. She nced down at her son Duncan, wiping his nose as the warmth brought color to his cheeks. Nearby, Aemon, lulled by the heat, looked drowsy, a frequent urrence ofte.
As the heat wave spread, the gathered crowd marveled at the transformation. Sweat began to form on their foreheads, and the snow clinging to the city gate reliefs started to melt. Dripping water was soon audible amidst their awestruck murmurs.
Its so warm!
Its like magic!
Feels incredible!
Just as the atmosphere reached a crescendo of joy, Hermine noticed something in the distance: dragons soaring quickly toward the city from the horizon. At first, her heart liftedViserys must have returned! But as she observed their speed and formation, her smile faded.
Something wasnt right.
Mother! Fathers back! Willem eximed excitedly, pointing at the approaching dragons.
Dany, too, turned her attention to the horizon. Her expression grew serious. The number of dragons matched what she expected, but something was amiss. Thergest yellow dragon was missing, and a smaller purple dragon had joined the group.
The unease thickened as Hali, riding on a green dragon, bypassed the city walls andnded directly beside Danya breach of protocol that underscored the urgency.
Hali dismounted hastily and leaned close to whisper in Danys ear. Her words sent a chill through Dany despite the warmth of the Dragonbone Tower.
Your Grace, Hali said, voice taut with urgency, the White Walkers areing from the sea!
Chapter 443: The Crisis in King’s Landing
Chapter 443: The Crisis in Kings Landing
The Night King, after months of eerie silence, had reemerged with a vengeance, his forces now striking along Westeross coasts. Viserys had discovered the White Walkers infiltrating the Stornds shores. The heaviest concentration, however, had been near the Griffins RoostConningtons fief.
After a brutal battle, Viserys and the local defenders managed to repel the White Walkers, but many scattered into the Rainwood, slipping through the dense forest terrain.
Your Grace, all the ones we killed were White Walkers, the Maester of Griffins Roost reported gravely, cing fragments of fine ice on the table before Viserys.
Viserys studied the remains, the icy shards gleaming in the firelight. Twisting them between his gloved fingers, he spected aloud,
The Night King is preparing to open a second front.
It was well-known that the White Walkers, or the Others, formed the elite corps of the Night Kings army. Estimated at 70,000 to 100,000, they were far fewer in number than the two to three million undead soldiers believed topose the Night Kings ranks.
Viserys reasoned the Night Kings march south had two objectives.
First, to find a new source of soldiers. The South, with itsrger poption and more plentiful human remains, offered fertile ground for expanding the army of the dead. However, Viseryss widespread cremation campaigns over the past few years had severely limited this possibility. Many skeletons had been burned, and even those buried in the warmer southern climate would have decayed beyond use.
That left the second objective: to disrupt production and spread panic.
The Night King knows warfare, Viserys muttered, still toying with the icy shards. Coming from a Dragonlord lineage, the Night King was well-versed in Valyrian-era military tactics, where air superiority allowed dragons to target enemy supply lines deep behind the front. It appeared he was applying simr strategies now, though his dragons were reced by the freezing tendrils of winter and his undead forces.
Viserys issued a few more instructions to the Maester at Griffins Roost before immediately departing for the Isle of Faces, seeking counsel from Bloodraven, who remained the most attuned to Westeross shifting tides.
At Kings Landing.
Halis dramatic entrance into Kings Landing had caused quite a stir. Her abrupt arrival on dragonback and her dire warning about the White Walkers spread unease among the popce. Fortunately, Daenerys managed the situation with her usual poise.
She swiftly announced Viseryss victory in Valyria and assured the people that Dragonbone Towers, like the one they had just seen activated, would soon be erected throughout Kings Landing and across Westeros. The promise of warmth and protection brought cheers from the crowd, who were then calmly evacuated to make way for urgent royal business.
In the Tower of the Hand, Daenerys convened an emergency council. She sat at the head of a long, triangr table, a design crafted by Viserys to ensure that everyone could see each other clearly during discussions. Normally, this seat belonged to Viserys, but in his absence, Daenerys presided with authority.
Closest to her sat the senior members of Viseryss dragon party:
Jon Connington, Samwell Tarly, Benerro, Monterys Vryon, Lync Brune, and Dick.
Further down sat newer appointees such as
Wis Tyrell, who had been
Master of Ceremonies for two years, and
Roose Bolton, serving as
Master of Justice. Even
Lorarys, recently returned from Valyria with Hali, was present, her expertise on the Dragonbone Tower deemed critical.
Behind Daenerys stood
Hali and
Hermine, her
Dragon Knights, their imposing presence a reminder of the power and vignce the Targaryens wielded. The room was dimly lit, with the crackling firece and
whale-oil candles providing warmth and illumination.
Despite the physical heat, the mood was frosty. Almost every face was clouded with concern. The sudden and direct threat of the
White Walkers hitting so close to home was difficult to process.
My Lords, please share your thoughts. I need as many opinions as possible, Dany said sternly, her voice carrying the weight of authority.
Most hade to ept the arrangement of a co-rule between the queen and the king. Dany had upied this position longer than Viserys, and when she made such a request, it was understood as an open invitation for all to speak freely, regardless of rank.
Your Grace, Sam spoke first, ncing briefly at Connington. There has been no sign of White Walkers along the coast, not even near Dragonstone. We should use this time to fortify our defenses, distribute weapons to themon people, and notify all feudal lords to remain on high alert.
Connington, however, was quick to counter. Distributing weapons to themon folk is premature, he said. It could spark panic. We dont yet know the scale of the White Walker incursion. Drafting additional soldiers would be a more measured approach.
His response was thoughtful, presenting a more strategic n.
Another voice joined the discussion. Your Grace, said Theobald, a man in his fifties with the bearing of a Maester. Once the archmaester to the Citadel, now split in two by Viserys, Theobald had yed a pivotal role in recruiting its best minds for the newly established Royal School, where he now served as Maester.
While the full strength of the White Walkers remains uncertain, we must prepare for the worst. I propose sending Prince Willemrys and the royal family to the Moonlight Pce and Casterly Rock as a precaution.
Both locationsformerly The Eyrie and Casterly Rockwere renowned for their defensibility. Evacuating the royal heirs there would be a prudent safeguard. However, Theobalds suggestion wasnt limited to the royal family. It implied mobilizing vital supplies, troops, and resources to apany them.
His words left a ripple of unease among those present.
Maester Theobald, Meris, the warden of Kings Landings prisons, spoke up, her tone reflecting disbelief. Has it trulye to this?
The idea seemed almost iprehensible to her. With nineno, tendragons and over 100,000 soldiers, the dynasty forged by Viserys and Daenerys seemed far too formidable to face imminent copse.
The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Dany. Beneath her calm exterior, unease flickered in her violet eyes. Her thoughts turned to her eldest son, Willemrys, still a child with traces of baby fat on his cheeks. He was barely four, the same age she had been when she lost Ser Willem, who had protected her and Viserys in their youth. The cruel symmetry of fate struck her, filling her with a sense of foreboding.
As she wrestled with her thoughts, LymanDarry, her twelve-year-old cupbearer and heir to House Darry, approached. The panic in his expression was palpable, and a collective tension gripped the room.
Your Grace, Lymanstammered, his voice trembling, arge force of White Walkers hasnded at ckwater Rush and is attacking Kings Landing!
Gasps filled the chamber. Danys eyes widened as she fixed her gaze on the boy.
How many? she demanded sharply.
I-I dont know, Lymanstuttered. But there are many.
Dany straightened, her resolve hardening. She knew she had to see the situation herself.
My lords, Kings Landing is my home, she dered, her voice steady andmanding. I have already lost it once. I will not lose it a second time. We still have eight adult dragons and 20,000 Kingsguard. No matter how many White Walkers the Night King sends, they will not set foot in Kings Landing!
Turning to her advisors, she issued orders with unwavering determination:
Send word to the people of Kings Landing: the dragons are with them, the royal family is with them, and the Targaryens are with them!"
"Let the war begin!
Chapter 444: A Cornered Dog Will Jump Over the Wall
Chapter 444: A Cornered Dog Will Jump Over the Wall
After addressing the situation at the Griffin''s Roost, Viserys made his way to the Isle of Faces. The diminished power of the Bloodraventhe enigmatic Greenseerhad changed things, making it impossible to ignore the bond they shared over vast distances.
Upon arriving, Viserys approached the Weirwood where he and the Bloodraven had once forged their pact. It was an uncanny sight; while nearly all trees in Westeros were stripped bare, the Weirwood of a Thousand Faces remained lush and thriving.
Lighting antern brought from Valyria, Viserys illuminated the area. A face slowly emerged on the Weirwood before himweathered, missing an eye, unmistakably the Bloodraven. The face seemed to stir awake, squinting in irritation at the sudden light.
Youvee, the Greenseer rasped, his voice weak and weary.
Viserys didnt waste time. He needed to know how many White Walkers the Night King had sent south, though he could sense the Bloodraven was too drained to offer exact numbers.
Ivee to ask you about the Night King, Viserys said, keeping his tone steady. Ive seen White Walkers near the sea.
The Bloodraven regarded him with a long silence, his ancient features etched with fatigue. Atst, he spoke.
Go back and protect Kings Landing. The Night King is targeting Dragonstone.
So hes desperate now? Viserys asked, trying to discern the implications of this move.
Desperate? the Bloodraven said with a faint chuckle. You might call it that. Go, Viserys. I can already feel spring in the air.
The cryptic remark caught Viserys off guard. His eyes brightened as he pressed further. What do you mean? Are we going to win?
The Bloodraven chuckled again, the sound more akin to a dry rasp. Victory is still distant, he admitted. But dawn is near.
Dawn? Viserys looked up, puzzled. The sky remained cloaked in its perpetual darkness. Yet before he could ask more, the face on the Weirwood faded into the wood itself, leaving Viserys with a sudden sense of rity and relief.
Two realizations struck him in that moment.
First, the pact between the exiled Aenar Targaryen and the Greenseer had ended. The Targaryens were no longer bound to be chosen or manipted by the Greenseers will.
Second, he understood why the Bloodraven spoke of the sky brightening. The Night King had expended tremendous resources to bring the White Walkers south. Should this attack fail, he would not be able to mount another assault for a long time. This would grant Viserys ample time toplete the Dragonbone Tower and eventually march northbeyond the Great Walls ruinsto the Land of Always Winter itself.
Looking at the Weirwood one final time, Viserys understood that the Bloodraven was gone, but the Greenseers bloodline would someday reawaken among the First Men.
...
Kings Landing.
While Viserys had worked diligently over the years to reinforce the three main lines of defense against the White Walkers, his personal attachment to Kings Landing ensured its fortifications were exceptional.
Dozens of fortresses now encircled the capital, each connected to the main city by simple drawbridges. The defenses were so robust that even Randyll Tarly admitted no army could breach Kings Landing without dragons.
As the city braced for theing storm, every measure of its formidable defense was put into action.
From above, Dany patrolled the skies on her silver dragon, sweeping over the eastern and southern perimeters of Kings Landing.
The ckwater Rush had be a battlefield of ice and death. Over the years, the rivers flow had slowed due to the encroaching cold, and its water level had dropped significantly. Now, the massive ice blocks floated into ce by the White Walkers had dammed it, causing the river to spill out across the surrounding terrain. These colossal, white ice blocks resembled shattered eggshells, and from within them emerged hordes of White Walkers and wights, crawling like a tide of insects.
Dany watched the terrifying scene unfold from her vantage point, estimating that their numbers exceeded 200,000more than half the poption of Kings Landing. The realization was chilling, especially considering the farms and viges surrounding the city. Hundreds of thousands of people lived there, and it seemed unlikely they would escape the onught.
Yet, amidst the chaos, one small relief stood out: no Icebone Towers were visible. As the battle raged, simple Dragonbone Towers had been erected in key locations. With five such towers, the entirety of Kings Landing was protected. These structures ensured that soldiers could continue using their crossbows without fear of their inrades rising again.
Dany directed her silver dragon to the eastern side of the city, overlooking the Narrow Sea. Here, the White Walkers and wights were relentlessly scaling the cliffs, defying logic and fear. Years earlier, the cliffs near the Red Keep had been smoothed and fortified as a defensive measure. No one had anticipated that the White Walkers would freeze themselves to the stone walls, creating a grisly, frozendder for the others to climb.
The sight was horrifying. If Viserys were present, he might liken the advancing White Walkers to the relentless spread of a Venom-like parasite. Their method of attack was unnerving, and Dany felt an uncharacteristic chill of fear. But she refused to let it consume her. The Red Keep was her home, and her children were still inside its walls. She could not, and would not, let the White Walkers breach it.
With determination, Dany guided her dragon to the top of the cliffs. The silver dragon carried more than a dozen steel-woven baskets beneath its belly, each loaded with explosive charges. Dany pulled a rope, releasing one baskets contents. A dozen charges plummeted ten meters before she snapped her fingers, igniting their fuses. The midair explosions sent shards of ice and wights tumbling into the sea below, their descent apanied by the crackling sound of breaking branches.
She continued bombing the cliffside until the immediate threat was neutralized. Cheers erupted from the defenders below.
Long live Your Grace Daenerys! they cried, their voices echoing as they resumed firing at the remaining White Walkers below.
Within the city, the situation was less dire. The soldiers there remained rtively safe under the protection of the Dragonbone Towers, which ensured that corpses within their range could not turn. The Red Keep, in particr, was heavily fortified. Though it upied only a tenth of Kings Landing, it was safeguarded by three Dragonbone Towers.
However, the outer fortresses faced a far grimmer fate.
On one such fortress, a Kingsguard soldier named Ander stood amidst devastation. The small, 100-square-meter structure had once housed 33 men. Now, Ander was the only one left alive.
Andry! Hurry! Come quickly!
The shouts of hisrades from the main city walls reached him, urging him to retreat. He needed only to sever the drawbridge ropes to escape. Yet, as he moved, a dark, icy hand seized his ankle.
Looking down, Ander saw the reanimated corpse of a fallenrade clutching him. His face paled in realization: this wasnt resurrectionit was a corpse turning.
If he cut the ropes now, the undead might swarm into the city.
Then he froze. The face holding him was not that of arade, but his adoptive fatherthe man who had once been an Unsullied.
At twelve, Ander had been adopted by the Unsullied soldier. Though his father rarely spoke, he would loosen up when drunk, recounting the day Viserys had liberated the ves of Astapor. The story had grown tiresome over the years, but in this moment, Ander could see his fathers face clearly, hear his words vividly.
His gaze shifted to the burning torch nearby and the explosive charge at his feet. His decision was made.
Chapter 445: The Siege and Defense of King’s Landing
Chapter 445: The Siege and Defense of Kings Landing
A human face, webbed with white cracks, emerged from the icy, ck depths of the ckwater Rush. Blue-tinged eyes opened, their gaze meeting an explosive burst of light. The detonation was so powerful it carved meters off the fortress it struck, sending shockwaves that toppled the defenders manning the city walls.
For a fleeting moment, the st disrupted the relentless advance of the White Walkers.
That cracked visage belonged to none other than the Night King. Emerging behind him, a cluster of White Walkers with glowing blue eyes followed, their water-slicked hair clinging to their skulls, enhancing their sinister aura. The Night King, fully recovered from wounds inflicted months prior, had learned from his past misstepunderestimating Viserys reckless resolve. This time, his n was wless, seizing the perfect moment when many of Westeros elite were still far away in Valyria.
As the Night King''s army disembarked from the river, the waters of the ckwater Rush began to churn ominously. Towering structures of ice, the dreaded Icebone Towers, rose one by one from the depths. The river itself sumbed to the chill, freezing solid as the Towers emerged. This time, the Night King brought only a fraction of his forcesjust over a hundred Icebone Towersyet their mere presence exuded overwhelming menace.
A pale mist of ice spread across the battlefield, its glow eerily orange from the flickering light of nearby torches. The mist, undeterred by the heat, moved like a cold tide, spreading from the ckwater Rush to the city walls. Though the walls halted the creeping ice itself, the freezing fog rose higher, spilling over the ramparts and enveloping the gates. The defenders watched in dread as the white haze consumed everything in its path, bringing with it an unbearable chill.
Hurry! Tell the soldiers in the outer fort to retreat! Connington, sensing the growing threat, shouted orders.
A soldier, tasked with rying themand, stepped onto the battlements and fired a signal re. The red light streaked into the sky, drawing the attention of every corner of the battlefield. The drawbridge connecting the citys main wall to the outer fortress began to lowerbut only halfway. The section on the main city wall descended, yet the fortress-side mechanism remained unresponsive.
Connington, suspicious, raised his binocrs. What he saw froze his blood. The soldiers stationed in the outer fortress stood motionless. Some were poised to fire arrows, others mid-task, while a few injuredy still on the ground. They were statuesfrozen solid where they stood.
Then came the Night Kings Spider Knights. Mounted on massive, frost-covered spiders, they scaled the outer fortress with ease. Within minutes, dozens of once-proud Topless Towers surrounding Kings Landing had fallen. The Spider Knights bypassed the city''s famed defenses, scaling the towering walls without the need fordders. On the battlements, the Kingsguard watched in stunned horror as moraleand temperatureplummeted.
Connington felt the icy grip of fear as even his cheeks quivered from the cold.
Amid the rising panic, a sudden roar broke through the chaos. Two dragons, one emerald-green and the other sapphire-blue, streaked across the sky: Hali and Hermine. Their zing mes tore through the fog and scorched the Spider Knights. The Night Kings forces crumbled under the onught of dragonfire, and the captured fortress, now aze, stood as a beacon of fiery defiance.
Long live Princess Hermine! Long live Princess Hali!
Long live Princess Hermine! Long live Princess Hali!
Long live Princess Hermine! Long live Princess Hali!
The chants echoed across the walls as the two princesses unleashed their magic, swiftly advancing toward the outer fortress. With coordinated precision, theymanded their dragons to unleash Dragons me, incinerating the White Walkers entrenched in the fortress below.
In the distance, the Night King stood motionless, his face an unreadable mask. He watched the fiery scene with neither fear nor fury. Air superiority granted the Dragon Knights a considerable advantage, their fiery wrath unmatched. Yet, the Night Kings forcesthe White Walkers and their undead wightsfeared neither fire nor death, dampening the decisive power of the dragons'' aerial supremacy.
Meanwhile, reinforcements from the inner city, conscripted from "within the first ring," swarmed the walls. These troops,posed of King''s Landing''s elite, had undergone regr warfare training, and their presence quickly tripled the number of defenders. Morale, briefly shaken, soared anew as the swelling ranks created a renewed sense of security.
Amid the chaos, defenders began to notice a strange warmth emanating from behind. Turning, they saw a massive structure risinga temporary Dragonbone Tower constructed from the remains of dragons and other colossal skeletons. Under Sams direction, more Dragonbone Towers were erected with remarkable speed, their golden light piercing the gloom like a rising sun.
The radiant light repelled the ice fog, and to everyones astonishment, the frost nketing the ground began to recede. Even the Night Kings Spider Knights, who had been scaling the city walls, started slipping as their mounts lost their footing. Soldiers atop the battlements seized the opportunity, hurling obsidian orbs at the frozen White Walkers, shattering them into icy fragments.
From his distant perch atop a massive block of ice, the Night King observed the battle with slight unease. His attention shifted as a disturbance rippled through his ranks. Hundreds of giant wights, enormous and lumbering, had appeared behind his army. Each carried battering rams as thick as water tanks and hundreds of meters long. Divided into three groups, they marched in unison, their steps pounding the earth like a drumbeat, heading straight for the River Gate, Lion Gate, and Dragon Gate.
At the Dragon Gate, Dick felt the vibrations of their approach but remained calm, calcting their speed and distance with precision. As the giants closed in500 meters, 300 meters, 100 metershe barked hismand:
Light them!
Seven fuses sparked to life, shooting trails of fire in all directions. The ground beneath the advancing giants was riddled with hidden explosives. The distance narrowed further50 meters, 30 meters, 10 metersuntil the earth erupted with an ear-splitting roar.
The initial sound was not a violent st but a strange, disorienting rumble. The reinforced city walls trembled, and Dick briefly feared they might copse entirely. When he rose from the trembling ground, he saw a massive mushroom cloud rising before him. A deep crater had reced the battlefield in front of the Dragon Gate, and the once-mighty giants were obliterated, along with their colossal battering rams. Not a single White Walker or wight remained in the vicinity. The acrid stench of sulfur filled the air, stinging eyes and noses alike.
Simr explosions erupted at the River Gate and Lion Gate, leaving behind devastation. Years of preparation had culminated in a moment of unparalleled effectiveness.
High above, Dany hovered on dragonback, exhaling in relief as the defensive line stabilized. With more than thirty Dragonbone Towers now active, their golden radiance bathed Kings Landing in a protective aura, shielding it from the icy advance.
Below her, the Night Kings forces regrouped, their numbers still swelling to over half a million. The battlefield shimmered with the eerie glow of countless Icebone Towers amassing alongside the undead legions. The White Walkers glowing blue eyes flickered like distant stars beneath an ominous, frostbitten veil.
Danys heart sank as she surveyed the scene. Though their defenses had held for now, the sheer scale of the Night Kings army loomed overwhelming. The preparations, though valiant, had been rushed, and time had worked against them. She found herself grasping for solutions, her thoughts clouded with uncertainty.
Just then, a strange calm washed over her. Her body ckened, and she drifted into an unexinable sleep, slumping against her dragons neck.
In her final waking moment, a voice echoed in her mind:
Dany, at all costs, hold off the Night King until I return!
Chapter 446: The Runaway Princess
Chapter 446: The Runaway Princess
Year 616 of the Restoration Calendar
The sky hung heavy and foreboding. Thunder rumbled through the heavens, and lightning wrestled fiercely within the dense, dark clouds. The sound rolled across the expanse, like a trapped animal thrashing within a sack. Finally, after an agonizing wait, the storm seemed to break free, and a jagged sh of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating thend below.
Then came the deluge. Rain poured down in relentless sheets, as if determined to drown the world. The storm subdued everythingthe lush vegetation of the mountains, the bustling streets of the city, and even the rushing torrents of the river. Yet through the pounding rain, a ck dragon, over twenty meters in length, fought against the storm, its wings beating furiously as it fled westward.
The dragon had crossed the Narrow Sea and now flew over Westeros.
Perched on the dragons back was a silver-haired girl, no older than fourteen. Her disheveled hair clung to her face, wet and whipping like a g in the violent wind. Her helmet, customary for any Dragon Knight, had long since been discarded.
Behind her, a dozen Dragon Knights pursued her through the storm, their dragons painted in hues of copper, gold, and green. At their head flew a massive silver dragon, over fifty meters in length, ridden by a young man with silver hair and striking purple eyes. He was Viserion, the great-grandson of Viserys the Restorer.
Viserion II, the Emperor before him, had issued an edict forbidding his descendants from naming their children Viserys or Daenerys. Yet, in homage to the legendary Restorer and his queen,ter generations adopted Viserys and Daenerys as symbols of admiration.
The girl fleeing for her life was named Daenerysor Dany.
She clung to the back of her dragon, her young face pale and determined. The dragon beneath her, Balerion, was still young, barely half the size of the dragons chasing them. Its smaller frame made it faster in short bursts, but its strength was waning quickly. Dany nced over her shoulder at the encroaching silver dragon.
Please, Balerion, she whispered through the tears that mingled with the rain, faster... just a little faster!
Behind her, Viserions stern voice cut through the roar of the storm. Dany,e back! Do you want to feel the Wrath of the Sleeping Dragon?
His threat had the opposite effect. Balerion, as if understanding the insult, beat its wings harder, increasing the distance between them. Frustration mounted among the pursuers. One of Viserion''s Dragon Knights drew a spear and prepared to hurl it at Danys dragon.
Viserion, noticing the movement, acted swiftly. He pulled a glinting charm from his robe and hurled it at the offending knight. The charm struck him squarely, knocking the weapon aside.
What are you doing? You could have killed me! the knight shouted.
Viserion snapped, his tone harsh. Fool! Do you want to bring dishonor to House Targaryen? To spill blood within our own family is a crime that bars us from the royal tombs! Do that, and youll lose your session rights for three generations!
His rebuke masked his desperation. Viserion wasnt chasing Dany merely to fulfill some duty; he had ambitions. If he could capture her and offer her as a bride to the Emperor of Yi Ti, he believed it would secure his im to the throne.
I am Viserion Targaryen the Seventh! he muttered to himself, clutching the reins. The throne will be mine!
But Danys destination posed a threat to his n. She was heading for the Summer Pce of the Restorer, a sacred ce housing enchanted portraits of Viserys the Restorer and his queen, Daenerys. Every Targaryen emperor had visited the Summer Pce for the ancestors symbolic blessing. Although the portraits had never denied an heir, Viserion feared their judgment might reject him if they knew the lengths to which he was going.
He had to stop her before she reached the pce.
Dany, as if sensing his thoughts, suddenly dove with her dragon, weaving through a narrow mountain stream. The maneuver was daring, almost reckless. The storm winds buffeted her pursuers, scattering their formation. A powerful gust threw Viserion and his knights off bnce.
One dragon crashed into the hillside, and its knight tumbled violently, breaking bones. Another spiraled out of control toward ake. Viserion steadied his silver dragon but cursed under his breath as the dy allowed Dany to widen the gap.
By the time he regained his momentum, she was nearly at the gates of the Summer Pce.
Danynded Balerion on the pce grounds and slid from its back. The ck dragon copsed, its body trembling with exhaustion. The descendants of House Brune, sworn to guard the Summer Pce, quickly surrounded the young Dragon Knight. Armed and wary, they closed in on her, shouting for her to stand down.
Through his telescope, Viserion watched with a satisfied grin. Thews of the pce forbade the use of mounts within its grounds. No dragon, horse, or carriage was permitted out of respect for the Restorer and his queen.
Shes trapped, Viserion murmured, urging his dragon forward.
Dany nced behind her and saw Viserion closing in. Her gaze hardened. Reaching into her boot, she pulled out a ck Dragonbone dagger. She held it to her throat, her hands steady despite the storm and the chaos around her.
Dany drew a jade tablet from her pouch, its surface adorned with embedded seven-colored gems that glinted in the faint light. Holding it high, she cried out with unwavering determination:
I am Jaehaerys IV''s granddaughter, Aegon I''s great-granddaughter, and Viserys II''s bloodline! Let me in, or I will die here!
This jade token carried immense significance, a creation of the same Viserys II who had sought to fortify the legitimacy of his lineage. Issued to his direct descendants, these tokens served as irrefutable proof of the purest Targaryen bloodline, descended directly from Viserys the Restorer and Daenerys.
The guards stationed at the Summer Pce understood the gravity of the situation. Refusing entry to someone with such a token could lead to dire consequences, and so, after a tense pause, they parted to allow Dany ess. Under their watchful eyes, she passed through the defenses and was escorted toward the innermost hall of the Summer Pce.
From his vantage point in the storm, Viserion saw it all.
The sight of the token stirred aplex mix of emotions within him. The jade tablet had once been entrusted to him by theirte mother. He, in turn, had passed it to Dany, believing it might one day save her life. At the time, he had never imagined it would be an obstacle to his ambitions.
Viserion clenched his fists as the memories surged back. Only fifty such tokens had been issued centuries ago, and most had since been lost to time. The rarity of the artifact, coupled with the rapid multiplication of Viserys IIs descendants over the generations, made the token an invaluable relic.
I gave her that token to protect her, not to stop me, he muttered bitterly.
Urging his dragon forward, hended at the pce gates but was promptly intercepted by the guards.
Do you have a token as well? one of them asked.
I dont, Viserion admitted, his tone curt. But I am her brother!
The deputymander shook his head, unyielding. Without a token, you may not pass. Wait here, my lord.
Frustration burned within Viserion. Though Targaryens were Dragonlords, bound to a legacy of might and nobility, they were also bound by their ownws. And the Summer Pcews were absolute. To force his way in would invite censure, and he could already see the political fallout looming on the horizon.
Hmph! he scoffed, throwing a disdainful nce at the guards before turning away.
For a moment, he considered charging in with his dragon, but the thought quickly faded. The Summer Pce was shielded by airborne magic. If his dragon were struck down, it would be the end of him. Gritting his teeth, he resigned himself to waiting in the rain, his gaze fixed on the pces towering structure.
Inside, Dany followed the Summerhallmander through the grand doors of the innermost hall. The architecture, a marvel of Valyrian craftsmanship, was awe-inspiring in scale. The corridor stretched endlessly, and even thergest dragons could navigate its vast spaces with ease.
As they entered the main chamber, Danys gaze was drawn to the walls, where two magical portraits hung in reverence. Full-length depictions of Viserys the Restorer and Queen Daenerys looked down over the hall, their gazes eternal. Beneath each portrait rested the colossal skulls of their dragons, symbols of their unmatched power and legacy.
Dany approached the portraits, her footsteps echoing faintly. She knelt before them, trembling slightlynot from the cold, which Targaryens were known to withstand, but from the tension coursing through her body. Her damp clothes clung to her frame as she pressed her hands together in silent prayer.
Daenerys seeks asylum. Daenerys seeks asylum. Daenerys seeks asylum.
This ritual, steeped in tradition, had rarely yielded results. Though Queen Daenerys portrait responded more often than Viserys, the magic had be increasingly dormant over the decades. If no response came within a quarter of an hour, the supplicant would be asked to leave.
Commander Brune discreetly checked his watch and began counting the minutes.
One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes.
As he prepared to tell Dany to leave, the hall was suddenly bathed in a soft glow. The light emanated from Daenerys portrait, illuminating the space with a warmth that pierced the gloom.
Commander Brune and his men immediately knelt behind Dany in reverence as the portrait came to life.
A voice, calm and regal, echoed from the painted figure. Did you say your name is also Dany?
Yes, Your Grace, Dany whispered, her voice barely audible as she lowered her head.
The painted Daenerys studied her with an air of curiosity. What brings you here, child?
Tears welled in Danys eyes as she answered, Your Grace, I do not wish to marry the Prince of Yi Ti... but my brother...
Her voice broke as she poured out her thoughts and fears.
Daenerys in the painting fixed her cold gaze on Commander Brune andmanded sternly, Call in Viserion.
Her tone softened as she turned to Dany. My dear, go wash and change.
Thank you, Your Grace, Dany said, bowing deeply before leaving the hall apanied by a brown-skinned servant. The servant, standing discreetly in a corner earlier, now quickly cleaned up the puddles of water left behind by Danys soaked clothes as she departed.
Meanwhile, Viserion sat in a side room with the Summer Pce guards, taking shelter from the rain. The announcement that Daenerys wished to see him sent a chill through him. Unease prickled his thoughts, and when a guard offered him an umbre in an attempt to curry favor, he waved it away brusquely.
As he made his way to the hall, the vast square before it loomed ahead. Statues of crouching dragons nked the central avenue, their stone gazes seeming alive under the dim, rain-soaked light. Viserion could not shake the feeling that the statues were watching him, judging him silently.
Each step along the avenue felt heavier than thest. Finally, he reached the staircase leading to the hall111 steps in total, each representing one year of Viserys and Daenerys legendary partnership. By the time he set foot on the topmost step, his legs felt leaden, his breath shallow.
As he entered the grand hall, the air felt oppressive. His great-grandmothers painted visage stared down at him with icy disdain.
Viserion Targaryen greets Your Grace, he said, bowing his head low.
His thoughts raced. He remembered vividly the tales of Daenerys passing judgment, even sentencing other Targaryens to death for grave offenses. One had been a drunken Dragon Knight whose reckless actions had led to civilian deaths; another had been a paranoid emperor who executed his own son, only to meet his end by the decree of the Restorer couple.
Yet, Viserion did not see himself as guilty of anyparable crime. Still, he knew that disapproval from Daenerysor worse, Viseryscould doom his chances for the throne.
As he scrambled to prepare a defense in his mind, Daenerys spoke, her voice calm yet devastatingly sharp.
Viserion, you dishonor the name.
Her words cut through him like a de. His carefully constructed arguments crumbled in an instant. The usation, though delivered without a shout, reverberated in his ears, leaving him dazed.
Is this the time for the Targaryens to live or die? Daenerys continued, her voice growing firmer. Must dragons make fight each other likemon beasts?
No, Your Grace, Viserion replied, his voice shaking.
So you would betray your own sister for your pitiful lust for power? she asked, her gaze piercing.
I would not Viserion began, but the words faltered in his throat, unwilling to emerge.
Daeneryss painted face hardened further. Well, I dont think the Targaryen name suits you anymore. Youre out.
The sentence hit him like a blow, leaving him trembling. Though she hadnt explicitly ordered his death, the judgment was finalhe was stripped of his im, his honor tarnished.
As her words echoed in his mind, a chilling line from
The Great Biography of the Restorer surfaced in his thoughts:
"Whatever he doesn''t have, take away what he has."
He had never imagined that he, of all people, would be an embodiment of that infamous quote.
Leave, Daenerysmanded.
In a daze, Viserion turned to leave, each step heavier than thest. Just as he reached the threshold, Dany reappeared, her clean, dry clothes a stark contrast to her earlier state.
I beg Your Grace not to take my brothers surname, Dany implored, her voice trembling but resolute.
Dany! Viserion eximed, startled. He didnt want his sister entangled in his disgrace.
Dany stepped forward and continued, her eyes filled with determination. Your Grace, my brother has always been kind to me. When we were young, he told me stories about the Restorers and about you. Ive caused trouble for you by fleeing here. Please dont me him. He he had no choice.
Daeneryss expression softened slightly, though her gaze remained calcting.
At that moment, a deep,manding voice echoed through the hall. Oh? No choice? Tell me exactly why there was no choice.
The portrait of Viserys, which had been silent for fifty years, glowed faintly as it came to life.
Chapter 447: Bedtime Story (End)
Chapter 447: Bedtime Story (End)
The Restorer, Viserys, had earned his title not just by reiming the Iron Throne but by achieving the unthinkablerestoring Valyria itself. The ancient, once-mighty Valyria had been annihted in a catastrophic failure of the magic that contained the Fourteen mes, leaving it a deste wastnd of fire and ash. For centuries, it was regarded as a cursed, uninhabitable realm.
Yet during his reign, Viserys began the monumental task of reiming Valyrias ruins. By the time his son Willemrys assumed the throne, new Valyria was rising from the ashes, but its foundation had beenid by Viserys himself.
This achievement came after his legendary victory over the Night King. Leading the living to triumph in that ultimate battle, Viserys gained another, chilling epithet:
the Night Eater. To ensure the Night King could never rise again, Viserys consumed his body through an extraordinary act of magic. The process irrevocably altered the Targaryen constitution, tying their line more closely to fire and magic.
Viserion revered Viserys as a figure beyond mortalprehensiona god among men. When the painted visage of Viserys stirred and his voice filled the hall, both Viserion and Dany instinctively bowed low.
Your Grace, they said in unison, their voices trembling with awe.
The glowing figure of Viserys gazed down at them. His presence, even as a projection of magic, carried an overwhelming weight. Daenerys in the painting spoke first, recounting Danys plight and Viserions actions. The tension in the hall was palpable, every word heavy with judgment.
The Restorer Emperor was a legend not only for his wartime feats but for his transformation of the world. After the Long Night and the victory at Kings Landing, Viserys rebuilt Westeros from the ground up. The feudal system, riddled with inefficiency, was reced by the county system, unleashing the full potential of the continent. Within seventy years, the poption soared from a mere ten million to over eighty million. Even the frigid Land of Always Winter, warmed by the changing climate, became habitable, giving rise to new towns and cities.
Meanwhile, Viserys devoted hister years to excavating Valyrias ruins. The Dooms remnants yielded ancient magical knowledge and technological marvels, fueling the Golden Age. Thisbor of restoration consumed much of Viserys and Daenerys lives and continued under Willemrys, their son, who carried the torch of their legacy.
Under the Targaryens, the empire extended its reach far beyond Westeros and the Free Cities. vers Bay fell swiftly, followed by the submission of Qarth. When the empires gaze turned to Yi Ti, the Pureborn nobility knelt without resistance, theirplete capittion smooth and unopposed.
Yet, this triumph nted the seeds of trouble.
The YiTish, crafty and ambitious, ingratiated themselves with the Dragonlords, bing indispensable advisors and middlemen. Over two centuries, they married into the Targaryen bloodline, producing dozens of Dragon Knights and embedding themselves within Valyrias ruling ss.
Their influence extended so far that they controlled the Jade Sea trade and held sway over the Targaryen court itself. By the time of the 27th emperor, their power was so entrenched that they nearly imed the title of co-emperor.
It was to this group that Viserion sought to marry Dany. Not because the YiTish had ckmailed him, but because he was cornered by another Targaryena rival with both power and pure bloodline.
Lacking sufficient allies, Viserion believed aligning with the YiTish was his only chance to secure his position and protect both himself and his sister.
As Dany ryed this exnation, her voice steady yet tinged with emotion, something unprecedented urred.
Viserys, the Restorer, stepped out of the painting.
His ethereal form emitted a faint glow, and his body seemed weightless, almost insubstantial. The sight left everyone stunned, especially Commander Brune, who had spent more than twenty years guarding the Summer Pce without ever witnessing such an event.
In the great hall of the Summer Pce, the glowing figure of Viserys the Restorer loomed, a manifestation of legend itself. Commander Brune struggled to keep hisposure, his thoughts racing.
"Is this equivalent to seeing His Grace the Restorer himself?"
He had served as themander of the Summer Pce for over two decades, meticulously studying the memoirs of his predecessors, yet none had mentioned anything like this. There were many portraits of Targaryen legends within the Summer PceFalia, Margaery, Shinelli, Sansa, Willemrys, Jaehaerys, and Viserys IIbut none possessed this profound, lifelike intelligence, let alone the ability to step out of their frames.
Viserys the Restorer approached the siblings, his ethereal presencemanding absolute silence. His glowing form radiated authority as he leaned toward Viserion, his voice calm yet piercing.
So, do you want to be the emperor? Or how badly do you want to be the emperor?
The question hung heavily in the air. Viserions mind churned with conflicting thoughts, yet his instincts told him to answer truthfully. Finally, with his head bowed, he replied:
Your Grace, I want to be the emperor.
Viseryss response cracked through the hall like a thunderp.
Then destroy the Yi Ti!
His words echoed with the force of an ancient decree, reverberating in the silence.
I will give you the name Viserion Julius Targaryen. Go and proim it to all the Targaryenstell them that the past is forgotten. Take your dragons and your armies, and wipe out the Yi Ti.
ording to Little Dany, the Shadow of the Lysene has loomed over sessive generations of kings for countless years. The time hase to wash away the blood and start anew with a clean te.
He turned sharply toward Brune, who stood behind the siblings. At the sound of his name, Brune momentarily froze, his mind struggling to process what he had just witnessed. Only after two seconds did he drop to his knees.
You, Brune, will apany Prince Viserion to deliver my orders. A Dragonlord must act openly and with honor. Conspirators aplish nothing of worth. Have you not learned from the folly of that fool Illyrio?
Brune bowed lower, his voice trembling. Yes, Your Grace.
...
Meanwhile, in Yi Ti.
The grand pce of Iti stood as a monument to the kingdoms aspirations. Having allied with the Dragonlords generations ago, the Yi Ti monarchy expanded their pce repeatedly.
Now, it rivaled even Valyrias greatest structures, save for the Dragons Nest itself. The pce sprawled both above ground and below, with secret chambers and hidden passageways illuminated by Valyrian magic and alchemical ingenuity.
Within one of the pces richly adorned chambers, a middle-aged man with dark, polished goatee sat in quiet contemtion. His long fingers traced the lines of his beard as he spoke, his square face emanating an air of deep cunning and experience.
This Dany, he mused, his tone measured, is a direct descendant of Viserys II. At just fourteen years old, she could bring several Dragon Knights into our dynasty.
Across from him sat a younger man, his face bearing a clear resemnce to his father but marred by impatience and immaturity.
The Targaryens already have more than two thousand Dragon Knights, the younger man said, his frustration evident. When will we have even half that number?
The elder man leaned back, his expression calm. This is a long-term endeavor. Once we embarked on this pathwhen our dragons firstnded in this pcethere was no turning back. We must y our cards carefully.
What the elder man did not reveal, however, was that Yi Ti. had made significant strides in the shadows.
Though officially boasting only one hundred Dragon Knights, they secretly nurtured an equal number of prospective Dragon Knights who had already tamed wild dragons. This was a calcted move to prevent the Targaryens from perceiving them as a direct threat.
More than a thousand wild dragons remained in the known world, and Valyrias legendary Dragon Keepers still held sway over many of them. But Yi Ti had infiltrated their ranks, quietly recing them with their own operatives. Over the years, they had amassed over three hundred dragon eggs, carefully hidden from prying eyes.
As the father and son discussed their ns, a dragons roar echoed through the pce.
Is it Jaro returning? the younger man asked, standing quickly.
Jaro was one of the rare Dragon Knights loyal to Yi Ti, and even the crown prince afforded him respect.
The elder man began to rise, but before either could leave, the chamber doors were flung open with a thunderous crash.
A tall knight stepped through, his silver hair and purple eyes unmistakable.
At first, the father and son were rmed, fearing an extraordinary incident. But as they recognized the identity of the intruder, their rm turned to derision.
The contempt was clear in their expressions as they regarded Viserion Targaryen.
In the vast and ornate hall of Yi Ti''s pce, tension crackled like a storm as Viserion faced the father and son who had mocked him moments earlier. The middle-aged Jia Jin, outwardlyposed, addressed him with feigned politeness, though his tone betrayed ack of respect.
"Lord Viserion, I wonder where we have offended you?"
Viserions face darkened, his purple eyes zing. He spoke coldly, his voice filled with usation:
"Jia Jin, secretly hoarding dragon eggs. Yi Ti, covertly fostering Dragon Knights. Themand is clear: eradicate the n! Obliterate the kingdom!"
The young man beside Jia Jin leapt to his feet, his face twisting with fury.
Who do you think you are? How dare you speak like that?
Viserions lips curled into a sharp sneer. Who am I? Ill tell you who I am. His voice rose, reverberating through the chamber. I am Viserion Julius Targaryen! The Restorer bestowed this name upon me and personallymanded me to lead the expedition against Yi Ti. Is that clear enough for you?
The words struck like thunder. Jia Jinsposure shattered as his knees gave way, and he copsed into his chair, his face pale.
The Restorer... gave you a name... he whispered in disbelief, his voice barely audible.
Year 648 of the Restoration
Under the warm glow of a bedsidemp, a young girl of seven or eight nestled under thick covers, her frail body barely forming a shape beneath the quilt. Herrge eyes shone with curiosity as she listened to her father, Viserion IX, recount tales from their familys storied past.
Father, she asked, her voice soft but eager, so the Restorer really... ate the Night King?
Viserion IX, now in his middle years, adored these moments with his youngest daughter, Rha. Unlike most Targaryens, she was a rare non-burner, much like Daenerys of legend. He tucked her quilt snugly and smiled.
Yes, my sweet one. Back then, the Night Kings army had already breached Kings Landing. Even Hermine Targaryen, the second head of the Royal School of Magic, had her dragon shot down.
Opening the enchanted alchemical book on hisp, Viserion showed his daughter an animated page. The illustrations moved like living memories, vibrant and detailed.
Look here, he said, pointing to an image of the Night King astride his undead dragon, its icy mes spreading chaos across Kings Landing. The defenders scattered in terror as the dragons ice-blue fire transformed those it touched into wights.
Rha pressed closer, her small head leaning against her fathers shoulder as the pages shifted. The next scene showed Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Restorers, riding her majestic silver dragon into battle against the Night King.
Monterys and Hali soon joined her on their dragons, but even theirbined might wasnt enough. The White Walkers dragonfire proved wickedly potent, darkening the battlefield with despair.
Is that the Lightbringer sword? Rharion asked, pointing to the next scene, where Viserys the Restorer leapt from his bright yellow dragon tond on the green Baleris.
Viserion shook his head, smiling at her innocent curiosity. Not exactly. Do you see the hilt? Its not like any other sword, is it?
Rha squinted at the image. It looks... like it has leaves?
Indeed, her father confirmed. The hilt was formed from the body of a Greenseer who sacrificed himself for the battle. This made the sword uniqueimbued with magic, but also destined to burn out after its purpose was fulfilled.
In the next animated scene, Viserys wielded the radiant sword with ferocity, plunging it through the Night Kings chest. The undead ruler dissolved into dust, and with him, the sword disintegrated as well. The scene darkened further as the Night Kings ashes scattered in the winds stirred by his dragon.
But the battle was far from over. Icebone Towers, enchanted structures that served as the Night Kings anchor to immortality, began drawing the scattered remains toward their frozen cores. The Targaryens fought valiantly to block the Towers, their dragons plugging one opening after another. Monterys, Hali, and others gave everything they had, but the sheer number of Towers overwhelmed them.
The books illustrations grew increasingly frantic. Rha clung to her fathers arm as the final scene unfolded.
And then? she whispered.
Viserion turned the page, showing Viserys devouring the Night Kings remains. He tore apart icy fragments with his hands and teeth, swallowing them piece by piece. The animated sun, long absent from the sky, began to rise as he consumed the Night Kings blue, pulsating heart.
Isnt he afraid hell die from eating that? Rha asked, wide-eyed.
Viserion stroked her silver hair gently. I dont know. But what I do know is that Viserys the Restorer cared more about the safety of his family and his people than his own life.
As the sun rose fully in the books final scene, Viseryss glowing form seemed to shine brighter than ever, banishing the Long Night and bringing light back to the world.
Chapter 448: Extra: Awakening
Chapter 448: Extra: Awakening
The Long Night hadsted a little over a year, a harrowing time by any measure, but now the people of Westeros finally had a way to judge its end: the sun had risen once more. With its return, even the White Walkers, once an unstoppable terror, seemed less fearsome. Their leader, the Night King, had met his end, devoured by Viserys.
Deprived of the Night Kings presence, the White Walkers lost their cohesion, retreating chaotically toward the ckwater Rush, the forests, the ravines, and the coastline. The converted green dragon also tried to escape but was cornered and forced into the Dragonpit, where it was locked away under the overwhelming might of six other dragons. The Night King''s army, so formidable just days ago, dissolved like ice under the morning sun. Even if they were to rise again in the future, no one feared them anymorethe sun hade back, and with it, hope.
In the North, the armies of Winterfell and the Nights Watch celebrated the dawn. The Long Night was over. The Night King was dead. They had won.
Father, look, Jon said, handing Ned Stark a pair of binocrs.
Ned raised them to his eyes and peered out over the horizon. More than ten li away, the towering Icebone constructs that had been such a dire threat were copsing. From south to north, the skeletal towers crumbled like falling dominoes.
Has His Grace seeded? Ned murmured, his mind briefly flickering back to Viserys. He hadst seen the Targaryen prince returning from the Land of Always Winter, demanding the Lightbringer with amanding gesture like the outstretched branches of an ancient tree. The memory lingered, but Ned shelved his questions forter. For now, there were more pressing matters.
Jon, he ordered, take some men and scout the White Walkers positions. Report back immediately.
Yes, my lord, Jon responded, already preparing to leave when another voice interrupted.
My lord, I beg to apany them, said the Red Viper. His tone was resolute, his need for firsthand information clear.
Ned regarded him for a moment, then nodded. Granted.
Jon and the Red Viper led a hundred men toward the remnants of the White Walkers position. Their march was steady but cautious, as though they feared the so-called victory might yet prove illusory. But as they drew closer, they saw the truthid bare before them.
The ground was covered in a gray and ck carpet of bones, so numerous they almost obscured the earth itself. Jon and the Red Viper stepped forward cautiously. The Viper drew his spear and tested the bones underfoot, only to find them brittleno, crumbling.
With a single prod, a bone as thick as an arm shattered into fragments, as if it had been weathering for decades.
The Night Kings magic has failed, the Red Viper observed, his voice tinged with a note of finality.
Satisfied, he bent to pick up a piece of bone, rubbing it between his fingers until it disintegrated into dust. Jon followed suit, lifting a fragment and examining it closely. As he gazed at the decayed remains, a sudden image of Ghost, his direwolf, shed through his mind.
"Lets scout a bit further," Jon suggested.
Okay, the Red Viper agreed.
Their group of more than a hundred spread out across the area, carefully searching through the piles of bones. For two full quarters of an hour, theybed the field but found no sign of any lurking threats. Even the falcons and ravens sent to survey the regioncontrolled by the Skinchangers under Nedsmandreported nothing of concern.
Satisfied, Jon and the Red Viper exchanged a nce, silently agreeing it was time to return.
...
Highgarden.
The once-vibrant fortress of Highgarden had grown deste during the Long Night, its lush gardens and golden fields faded in the absence of sunlight. It had not been spared from the White Walkers'' wrath either. However, its maze-like defensive perimeter and location ind near the Mander River had limited the scale of the assaultpared to ces like Kings Landing.
Now, as the White Walkers retreated into massive ice formations, Mace Tyrell stepped back into the inner city, visibly relieved.
Mother, the White Walkers have all fled! he called out, but his moment of sce was quickly interrupted.
My lord, a maid said hesitantly, the Lady has gone.
Mace froze, his relief giving way to heartbreak. His mother, Olenna Tyrell, the sharp-witted matriarch known as the Queen of Thorns, was gone. Ovee with grief, Mace copsed over her lifeless body, weeping like a child. His cries were so raw, so poignant, that even the maid felt her heart ache.
Mother, he whispered through his sobs, did she see the sun?
Yes, my lord, the maid replied gently. The Lady even basked her hands in it.
Hearing this, Mace seemed to find a small measure offort. His sobs quieted, though the grief in his eyes remained.
Send word to Kings Landing about what has happened here, he ordered.
...
Dorne: Sunspear.
Far to the south, Doran Martell stood in disbelief. Even Sunspear, the southernmost fortress of Westeros, had been attacked by White Walkers. The attackers werent vast in number, but their endless waves were unnerving.
As Doran pondered the implications, the White Walkers abruptly turned and leapt into the sea. The sudden retreat sparked a realization within him. Without hesitation, he ordered preparations for a journey to Kings Landing.
Prepare boats immediately, hemanded. He intended to witness whatever was unfolding firsthand.
Across Dorne, other lords reached simr conclusions. Some prepared carriages, others ships. They understood the significance of this momenta turning point in history.
...
Across Westeros, and even in the Free Cities, the news spread quickly. The Long Night was over. Victory had been won.
From the North to Dorne, from Westeros to distantnds like vers Bay, Qarth, and Itty, the world rejoiced. Yet, for many, joy was tempered by loss. The year-long night and the five-year winter that preceded it had cost more than 80% of their poptions. For those who had endured so much, the sight of the sun brought not happiness but a numb, hollow relief.
In many ces, people turned to the sun in reverence. Arms stretched wide, they stood as if trying to embrace the sunlight. It seemed as though the entire world had be devoted to this celestial salvation.
Yet, not all was well. Their emperor, Viserys, had not been seen by the public in five years. Only the highest officials, princes, and his heir had ess to him. Whispers began to circte.
Some imed Viserys had died after consuming the corpse of the Night King, a sight witnessed by many. Others feared something far worse: that Viserys himself had be the new Night King. Both rumors bred unease, and neither could be confirmed nor denied.
Daenerys, his devoted sister, had remained by his side throughout these years. She handled governmental affairs from the same room where Viserysy in a deep, unbroken sleep. What troubled her most was not just his state of slumberit was that for two entire years, Viserys had neither eaten nor drunk, yet his vital signs persisted.
This was no longer the condition of a normal man.
Mother, its time to eat.
Daenerys looked up at Willem. The past five years had seen her son grow into a tall young man, standing eye-to-eye with her now. She nodded, leaning back in her chair. Though five years had passed, they had left no visible mark on her. Her face remained as youthful as ever, but her demeanor had shifted; she now radiated themanding presence of someone ustomed to wielding power. To call her a queen mother almost felt inadequateshe was every bit a queen in her own right.
Willem ced the tray of food before hera bowl of thick soup and two delicate pastries, the entirety of her modest meal. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he began to massage it gently.
Daenerys had just lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips when a sudden noise behind her made her freeze. Without a second thought, she spat out the soup, setting the bowl down as she rose abruptly from her chair. The force of her movement caused the chair to push against Willem, but he didnt seem to notice. His focus was entirely on his mothers uncharacteristic reaction.
Mother? Willem began, concern evident in his voice, but Daenerys was already striding toward Viserys bedside. He followed closely behind.
Daenerys stopped by the bed, her eyes fixed on her brothers face. She watched in stunned silence as his eyes moved beneath their lids, twitching as if something within him was awakening.
Brother? Brother? she called softly.
Father? Father! Willem added, his voice louder with excitement.
Keep your voice down! Daenerys hissed, waving her son back.
The two of them held their breaths as Viserys eyes slowly opened. What they saw sent a shiver down their spines. Gone were the familiar violet eyes they shared; in their ce glowed an unnatural, piercing blue.
Willem instinctively took a step back, but Daenerys stood her ground. Her head tilted slightly, her white, slender neck exposed, unflinching before her brothers gaze.
Dany? Viserys croaked, his voice hoarse from five years of silence.
Did we defeat the White Walkers?
Yes, Daenerys replied with a nod, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within her. She quickly realized hisst memory was of their battle five years ago.
Father, its been five years since we defeated the White Walkers! Willem interjected.
Willem? Viserys eyes shifted to his son, lingering on the unfamiliar maturity of his face. The absence of baby fat struck him harder than any words could.
Five years? he echoed, his voice hollow with disbelief.
The realization washed over himhe had lost five entire years of his life. He had been 25 years old when hest closed his eyes. Now, he was a man of 30. The weight of it was almost too much to process.
He struggled to sit up, and both Daenerys and Willem moved to support him.
No, Viserys said firmly, stopping them. He braced himself and realized, with astonishment, that his muscles showed no signs of atrophy. Instead, his body felt strongerunnaturally so. There was a vigor coursing through him, even greater than what he remembered before his long slumber.
His eyes swept the room, taking in the unfamiliar decor and surroundings. A sense of disconnection gnawed at him, but one realization soon consumed his thoughts: the souls that had once been bound to him were gone. He could no longer feel the presence of Valsha, the ancient entity tied to his existence.
Had consuming the Night King caused this?
Viserys confusion deepened.
After a long silence, Willem spoke hesitantly.
Father, your eyes.
Eyes? Viserys echoed, confused.
Willem handed him a mirror, and Viserys stared at his reflection. The glowing blue of his eyes startled him, but with a brief concentration, he willed the glow to fade. The familiar purple hue of Targaryen eyes returned, leaving Willem and Daenerys watching him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Inside, Viserys felt an unfamiliar energy coursing through him, like a reservoir of untapped power. He couldnt yet understand its source or how to use it, but its presence was undeniable.
Are you feeling unwell? Daenerys asked softly, her tone careful.
No, Im fine, Viserys assured her.
Father, Willem began, his youthful curiosity on full disy. Why did you decide to eat the Night King? Andhow did you manage to eat someone so big? He nced toward Viserys stomach, his innocence betraying the seriousness of the question.
Viserys smiled but didnt answer. Instead, Daenerys began briefing him on what had transpired during his five-year slumber.
She exined how, after the Long Night ended, the realm had gradually returned to normalcy. Agriculture and production were restored, and a year and a half of spring had given way to summer. ording to Melisandres prophecy, this summer mightst for more than two decades.
She spoke of how the Nights Watch had pushed their front lines into what was once called the Land of Always Winter. Remarkably, the name no longer fit, as patches of green now dotted the once-frozen terrain. The Seven Kingdoms had effectively grown by one-third, though much of this newnd remained undeveloped. The once-mighty Wall had been abandoned, as the souths poption had yet to fully settle even the existing territories.
A pang of sadness crossed Viserys face when Daenerys mentioned the death of the Green Dragon, which had been corrupted by the Night King. The loss was personal, as the Green Dragons egg had been the first hed ever obtained. But his spirits lifted when she revealed that eleven young dragons had hatched over the past five years. The Blue Dragon, ck Dragon, and Silver Dragon had allid clutches of eggs, bolstering the Houses strength.
As Daenerys finished updating him, Viserys women and children began to gather around a grand long table adorned with an abundance of food. The entire Red Keep buzzed with life, the mood celebratory. The family was dressed for the asion, each person radiant and well-prepared to wee him back.
Daenerys sat beside Viserys, while their childrenFalia and the otherswere seated nearby.
The younger children, including Willem, Victoria, Hali and Hermine, were visibly excited, though their nerves showed in their cautious nces. Others, like Sansas triplets, radiated a mix of curiosity and timidity.
Viserys gaze settled briefly on each child. Some stared boldly, like Little Roses second son, whose confidence seemed inherited from his mother. Others, like Hali and Hermine, stood tall and serious, their maturity catching him off guard. He noted how young Victoria still was, but the rooms atmosphere reminded him that many of the children were at an age that felt like a lively kindergarten.
Aemon has already left, Daenerys whispered softly into his ear, her voice tinged with sorrow.
The news struck Viserys with a pang of regret. Aemons absence weighed heavily on him, but he kept his expression neutral.
Children, I am your father! Viserys dered with a heartyugh.
Theughter was not echoed by the room, save for Willem, whose boyish amusement stood out. Viserys felt a brief flicker of loneliness but resolved not to dwell on it. He had been absent for five years; now, he intended to spend time with them, mending the bonds of family and avoiding future conflicts within the House.
Your Grace, we Little Rose began, her voice tentative.
Call me husband, Viserys interrupted warmly. There are no outsiders here.
His directness left her slightly flustered, but she managed a soft response.
Husband we have missed you so much over the years.
I could feel it, Viserys replied with a smile. Thats why I woke up so quickly. How is Lady Olenna?
Little Roses expression fell, the mention of her grandmother darkening her mood.
Grandmother she has passed away, she admitted softly.
Viserys paused, the weight of the news settling over him. He had intended to ask about Mace Tyrell as well but decided against it, sensing the mood was already somber. Turning back to Daenerys, he resolved to focus on the present.
Today, well feast properly, Viserys said, his voice brightening with determination.
''After five years, its time to make it up to all of you.''
Chapter 449: Extra: Clothes and People
Chapter 449: Extra: Clothes and People
Thirty-five years into the Restoration calendar, Viserys the Restorer, still in the prime of his springtime years, made an announcement that shocked the realm: he would abdicate the throne in favor of his thirty-two-year-old son, Willemrys. The news came just months after the emperors stunning victory at the Tournament of the Year, where he hadpetedand wonas a masked contender. For a man in his fifties, such a feat was almost beyond belief.
By July of the same year, nobles from Westeros and the Free Cities flocked to Kings Landing like birds returning to their nests. The city, whose poption had hovered near 700,000, saw its numbers surge well beyond that figure. The port brimmed with ships stretching as far as the eye could see. Colorful banners pped in the wind, and dragons of every hue soared and circled above, casting their shadows over the bustling capital.
The current Princess of Dorne was Arianne Martell, who had assumed the title after her father, Doran, passed away fifteen years prior.
This time, Willemrys enthronement was orchestrated in part by Arianne and her uncle, the Red Viper. Among the entourage were Ariannes son, Clemence, and his wife, Elizabeththe second daughter of Viserys and Shinelli. Elizabeth, now a proud mother of three sons, had further cemented ties between House Targaryen and House Martell. Her sons, all silver-haired, bore a striking resemnce to the Targaryen lineage. Of the three, onerumored to resemble Viserys the mosthad even earned the title of Dragon Knight.
Arianne, now over fifty-five and the same age as Viserys, gazed at the ever-changing city before her, marveling at how different it was with every visit.
"What is Viserys like now? Thest time I saw him, he was still young."
Her thoughts churned with a mix of bitterness and jealousy. It had been seven years since theirst meeting, back when they were both forty-eight. If only Viserys had been the only one to retain his youth, she might have epted it. After all, he had shown remarkable magical prowess even as a teenager. But it wasnt just himhis women remained youthful as well.
Even Sansa, the youngest, showed no signs of aging. And Shinelli, the eldest at sixty, looked no older than someone in their early thirties. Arianne couldnt help but wonder: if she hadnt been so impulsive back then, might she have lived in this very castle herself?
Mother, Clemence said, moving to steady her as she seemed momentarily lost in thought.
Im not that old! she snapped, brushing him off before storming away, leaving Clemence bewildered.
Whats wrong with Mother? Elizabeth asked.
Elizabeth, both a Dragon Knight and a Princess of House Targaryen,manded great respect in Dorne. The Water Gardens that her grandfather, Doran, had cherished had been expanded in her honor, reflecting her growing influence.
I dont know, Clemence replied with a shrug, his expression uncertain.
Elizabeth, however, was far moreposed. She was no stranger to Kings Landing. As a dragon rider, she had the freedom to visit the city whenever her duties allowed. Her familiarity with the capital gave her a confidence Clemence often envied.
Just then, a tall figure caught their attention. It was Rudy, the fifth child of Viserys and Shinelli, approaching with a wide smile to greet his sisters.
Sister! Rudy called out, hurrying to Elizabeth. The two embraced warmly, the joy of their reunion evident.
As they pulled apart, Elizabeths keen eyes caught something unusuala white silk scarf wrapped snugly around Rudys neck. The sight immediately struck her as odd.
This is so unlike you, she said, raising an eyebrow. Whats wrong with your neck?
Rudy hesitated, avoiding her gaze. Nothing. It just feelsfortable, he muttered.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. Nonsense. I know you. When you were little and lying, you used to blink nonstop. Let me see!
Ignoring Rudys protests, Elizabeth deftly untied the scarf, revealing a jagged arrow wound running down his neck. Her expression darkened at the sight.
I got it in vers Bay, Rudy admitted sheepishly. Dont tell Father, okay?
Elizabeth sighed, her irritation clear. Rudy had always admired Viserys, and his reckless streak often led him into dangerous situations. Some time ago, a minor conflict had red up between the Empire and vers Bay. While Elizabeth had heard of Rudys daring exploits during the skirmish, she hadnt realized just how much hed risked.
Be careful next time! she said sternly, giving him a sharp tap on the head.
Rudy grinned despite himself. Come on, sister, lets go.
They soon reunited with their eldest sister, VictoriaViseryss first child. Before long, all five siblings had gathered, each apanied by their respective children, and began making their way toward the Red Keep.
Most of Viseryss daughters had been married off, their unions forging powerful alliances across Westeros and beyond. A curious detail, however, had be the talk of the realm: all of Viseryss grandchildren had silver hair, an undeniable mark of their Targaryen blood.
Rumors swirled about the cause, some attributing it to Viserys having devoured the Night King. Whatever the truth, about a third of these descendants had be Dragon Knights, fiercely loyal to their Targaryen heritage despite the independence their dragons could afford them. Much of this loyalty stemmed from their deep admiration for their grandfather, Viserys, whose influence was unparalleled.
Viserys, for his part, seemed content. He understood that in theing millennia, new Dragonlord houses might rise, but for now, he relished the thousand years of ascension and prosperity thaty ahead for his family. If another Restorer emerged in the future, it would be a wee surprise, but he felt no need to dwell on what mighte.
Meanwhile, within the pcenow called the Red Pce after its expansionWillemrys was preparing for his new role as emperor. The pce, which now epassed nearly a third of Kings Landing, was a marvel of power and ambition. The city itself had more than tripled in size, bustling with life and activity as never before.
Inside his chambers, Willemrys sat quietly as his wife organized his ceremonial attire. She was the daughter of Young Connington and Arya, and the two shared a bond amplified by their shared lineage and history. With a seven-year age gap between them, their union was seen as an auspicious match among the nobilitythanks in part to the precedent set by Viserys and Daenerys.
Despite the blessings of his position, Willemrys couldnt shake his unease. Though he had assisted Viserys and Daenerys with administration for nearly a decade, the sheer scale of the empire he was about to inherit felt overwhelming. No kingdom had ever been as vast, as powerful, or as demanding as this one.
Renee, you Father is still so young. Why does he want me to be emperor? Willemrys asked, his toneced with uncertainty.
Because youve done an excellent job, and Father trusts you! Renee replied warmly, her voice brimming with encouragement.
Willem smiled helplessly as he looked at his wife. Her long, dark hair framed her fair skin, and her red lips contrasted beautifully with her white teeth. Renees beauty was undeniableso much so that even Viserys had once admitted she had inspired his tale of
Snow White.
After pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, Willemrys left with Renee and their three sons to visit his mother, Dany.
Dany, nearing fifty, looked as youthful as everno older than her twenties, with skin so wless it could rival that of a seventeen-year-old. Willemrys marveled at how time seemed to leave no mark on her; in his memory, her appearance had never changed.
Do you remember where your namees from? Dany asked in a measured tone, her eyes sharp yet affectionate.
I will never forget, Mother, Willemrys replied solemnly. Ser Willem was the one who protected you and Father when you were young. He was the Warden of the Targaryen bloodline during the most dangerous era for our house. And Lysit isnt just amon Valyrian suffix. It reflects your hope that I would inherit Fathers virtues.
Danys expression softened, clearly satisfied with her sons understanding. She had always held high expectations for Willemrys, her eldest son. Unlike many families with a tiger mother and eagle father dynamic, she and Viserys had reversed roles. Viserys, with his awe-inspiring achievements, made a point to be approachable to their children.
This was no ident. It was a lesson Viserys had carried over from his memories of a past life. He often reflected on historical figures like Qin Shi Huangdi, who had unified China and achieved greatness, only for his son Fu Su to fall victim to a scheming adviser. Viserys believed that if Qin and his son had fostered a closer rtionship, such tragedies could have been avoided.
He also thought of Emperor Wu of Han, who had expelled the Xiongnu and expanded Chinas influence, only to see simr fates befall his sessors. Even the Tang dynastys Li Shimin, who strengthened his empire, had allowed ack of closeness to provoke unnecessary rivalries among his children.
In contrast, Viserys made it a priority to maintain close rtionships with his five sons, knowing it was the key to preventing such conflicts. He and Dany had an unspoken agreement to always keep their family bond strong. If anything significant happened, they would discuss it openly.
For Dany, this meant sometimes ying the disciplinarian, keeping her sons in check when necessary. But she cherished the moments when she could simply be a loving mother, particrly with her two youngest daughters.
As their conversation shifted to government affairs, Dany quizzed Willemrys on various matters. He answered each question with precision, earning a rare, warm smile from his mother.
Youre already a true king, my child, Dany said softly, stroking Willemryss face before cing a gentle kiss on his forehead.
Willemrys froze for a moment, startled by the gesture. It was unlike his mother to show such tenderness.
Go and see your father, she added.
As he walked deeper into the pce, Willemrys couldnt shake the sense that his mother had be exactly as he had always wished her to bea blend of the wisdom of Lady Falia and the warmth of Lady Sansa.
Still a little dazed, Willemrys entered the next chamber. There, he found Viserys standing before a rack of clothes, carefully inspecting a newly crafted dragon robe.
Father, Willemrys called out with a warm smile.
Viserys turned, his youthful face unmarked by time. Though in his fifties, he looked almost as young as Willem, and the resemnce between the two was uncanny. Standing together, they could easily be mistaken for brothers. Their simr height and features only deepened the confusion, and many officials unfamiliar with them often made amusing errors. When Viserys and Willem stood side by side, more than a few had mistaken Viserys for Willem, and Willem for his younger brother Rhaegar. If Viserys had imed to be in his early twenties, no one would have doubted it.
My big boy, Viserys said affectionately. Come here and take a look at the dragon robe I designed for you.
Willemrys stepped closer to admire the red-and-ck dragon robe. He had always been captivated by his fathers impable sense of aesthetics. From clothing to literature, Viserys was unmatched. His creative genius extended far beyond attirehis
Targaryen Fairy Tales were beloved bedtime stories for children across the realm, and his contributions to music and literature were unparalleled.
To Willemrys, Viserys was almost godlike, though a god with a mischievous streak that often left Willem at a loss for words.
Its beautiful, Father. I like it very much, Willem said sincerely.
Oh? If you like it so much, how about we switch? You can wear my robe, and Ill wear this one, Viserys teased, his smile yful.
Okay! Willem replied without hesitation, missing any subtext. To him, it was a simple exchangeone robe was new, the other old. It seemed perfectly natural for his father to wear the newer one, while he, the son, wore the older one.
Viserys chuckled, seeing the earnestness in his sons response. Willem was not na?ve, but he clearly hadnt caught on to the metaphor Viserys was attempting to weave. That n had fallen through, so Viserys decided to take another approach.
Willem, he began thoughtfully, let me ask you something. If, in the future, all Targaryen emperors were allowed to wear only one dragon robe, would you agree to that?
A dragon robe, like a crown, is a symbol of status, Willem answered after a moments thought. It doesnt matter whether its new or old.
Viserys nodded, then posed another question. If thats the case, consider this: people wear clothes because there are more clothes than people. But if it were the other way aroundif the dragon robe ousted the wearerdo you think youre wearing the dragon robe, or is the dragon robe wearing you?
Willemrys froze, his expression reflecting the weight of the words. Father I think I understand something, but its not fully clear. Please teach me.
Viserysughed, amused by Willems earnestness. His son, despite being in his thirties, winked at him with a childlike yfulness.
You must remember who you are, Viserys said, tapping Willem lightly on the head. Never let power consume you. Power is responsibility, Willem.
The highest use of power is to seek a better life for the majority. A lesser use is to realize ones personal ideals. And the lowest, most selfish use, is to revel in the thrill of power or indulge in the luxury it provides.
Like Robert the Usurper, Willem replied, his smile fading.
Exactly, Viserys agreed, patting his sons shoulder. Robert fell into thest category. The point is simple: as king, you must embody the interests of the people. Only then will the throne remain a source of strength and not be a burden or a trap.
With that, Viserys picked up the dragon robe and helped Willem put it on. The rich red and ck fabric made Willem look imposing, regal, and every bit a Targaryen ruler.
Father and son exited the room together, where Renee was waiting with their four children. Beside her stood their eldest son Jaehaerys, second son Aron, third daughter Anjelica, and youngest daughter Melody.
Seeing his grandchildren, Viserys leaned over and whispered into Willems ear, Youve already given me four grandchildren at just twenty-eight. Let her rest a bit.
Willem grinned mischievously and replied, Hey, Father, Renees pregnant again. And besides, I only have one wife.
Good point!
Chapter 450, Side Story: The Secret of the Second Son of House Targaryen
Chapter 450, Side Story: The Secret of the Second Son of House Targaryen
Willemrys eldest son, Viserys first grandson, bore the name
Caesar Targaryen. While it might seem unusual to use a surname as a given name, there was no equivalent surname like
Caesar in this world, making the choice fittingly unique. However, Viserys couldnt help but notice that his grandson showed little interest in politics, even from a young age. Instead, Caesar seemed far more captivated by Olenna, the ddaughter of Margaerys eldest son, Duncan.
This phenomenonmarrying forpanionship or affection rather than purely for political gainhad begun to resurface in the third generation of Targaryens. Perhaps it was something intrinsic to the Valyrian bloodline, though Viserys found himself less inclined to concern himself with the fourth generation. After his abdication, he nned to travel the world with Dany and his grandchildren, leaving the future to Willemrys and his siblings.
As Willem and Viserys emerged together from the pce, Dany joined them. Each parent took one of their sons by the arm, and they walked toward the square of the Red Pce, where dozens of dragons awaited.
The Targaryen dragon poption had flourished over the past two decades, surpassing a hundred in number. Dragonstone, their breeding ground, was already feeling the strain of housing so many of these magnificent creatures. Thergest among them, a young yellow dragon, had grown to over eighty meters in length. At just over forty years old, it was still considered a juvenile by dragon standards, with a potential lifespan of over two centuries. Some spected that it might one day surpass even
Balerion the ck Dread in size.
Other dragons from Viserys original brood had also grown impressively, nearing seventy meters in length. After Hermines green dragon died, she had taken to riding a red one, and as the group arrived at the square, she and Hali swooped down on their dragons to greet them.
The sound of two dragons roaring in unison echoed across the square, and the dozen or so others took up the cry in a cascading ry. The chorus of roars reverberated throughout Kings Landing as one by one, the dragons soared into the sky.
In the center of the square, thousands of nobles from across the known world stood solemnly before a three-tiered altar to the heavens. At the sight of the emperor and the new emperor approaching, the gathering fell silent, many of the attendees gazing at Viserys with a mix of awe and reverence.
Closest to the altar were members of the royal family, including the Targaryen princesses who had already married into other houses. Viserys had thirty-three children, and their unions had produced enough offspring to swell the ranks of the
Pureborn to over a hundred.
Willemrys nced at his younger siblings out of the corner of his eye. Their variety of facesso familiar yet suddenly distantstirred an odd feeling in his chest. It was as if an invisible barrier had risen between him and his blood rtives, creating a strange sense of detachment.
Some of his siblings were staring at his face, others at his dragon robe.
Youll get used to it, Viserys whispered with a smile, noticing Willems unease.
Dany, too, sensed her sons difort. She reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Her touch was soft yet strong, and Willem felt a wave of calm wash over him. His parents still looked so young, so vital. If he ever faltered in his responsibilities, he knew he could turn to them for guidance.
With this reassurance, Willem straightened his back and strode confidently toward the Temple of Heaven.
The towering structure was the centerpiece of the square, and from its heights, the entire gathering could be observed. Nobles from every corner of the known world were present, filling the space in borate garb. The Kingsguard stood in their shining armor, keeping order and holding back the throngs of spectators.
The noblewomen were dazzling in their finery, many of them youngdies vying for the new emperors attention or seeking favor for their houses. Among them were their male counterparts, d in the te armor of Westeros. While the armor retained its symbolic prestige, many knew that its practical use was dwindling in the face of advancing weaponry. Viserys inventionsartillery and explosiveshad rendered even the sturdiest castles vulnerable, and the ever-growing number of dragons only deepened the shift away from traditional defenses.
Representatives from the Free Cities stood out with their more eclectic styles, from Qartheen nobles with exposed torsos to those dressed in flowing togas. Willemrys even spotted a Qartheen with one breast uncovered, a stark reminder of the cultural diversity on disy.
Nobles from nearly every corner of the world hade to witness this moment, making it a glory the Targaryens had never before experiencednot even under Viserys himself.
But Willem knew the truth. All this splendor and reverence was not for him; it was the legacy of his parents that had brought them here.
The three of them ascended the Temple of Heaven, its spire rising as the highest point in the square. Upon reaching the tform, Viserys and Dany stopped and stood to one side, while Willem turned to face them. Slowly, he knelt on one knee before his parents.
Dany held a crown in her hands, its intricate design a masterpiece of Valyrian craftsmanship. She passed it to Viserys, who stepped forward and ced it gently on Willems head.
Do a good job, Viserys said to Willemrys, his tone light but meaningful. And when youve had enough of being emperor, your mother and I will take you on a trip around the world.
He looked at his son, who now stood nearly as tall as he did. A rare wave of pride and aplishment washed over him.
Ill be down in a minute. Well leave today, Willem replied with a grin.
Dont make me crack you over the head on the most solemn asion in the world, Viserys shot back, shaking his head with mock exasperation.
From the square below, the gathered nobles and dignitaries were awed by the solemnity of the coronation ceremony. But within the confines of the tower, only the three Targaryens knew the ridiculous exchange that had just passed between them.
When Willemrys descended, the formalities resumed.
Long may his reign be glorious! the nobles chanted in unison.
Long may his reign be glorious!
Long may his reign be glorious!
The celebrationssted for seven days. On the first day, the festivities began in Kings Landing and spread across the Crownds. By the second and third days, the entire country joined in the revelry. On the fourth and fifth days, the enthusiasm started to wane, and by the seventh day, the ceremonies and feasts finally came to an end.
Many of the nobles who hade to swear fealty or offer congrattions lingered for nearly a month, taking advantage of the asion to solidify alliances and curry favor with the new emperor.
Once the formalities wereplete, Viserys and Dany left Kings Landing, leaving Willemrys to navigate the mountain of red tape that came with the transition of power. Taking a handful of their grandchildren, the pair traveled to Dragonstone, the historic seat of the crown prince.
Despite its significance, Dragonstone remained a practical, almost utilitarian ce, serving primarily as a breeding ground for dragons. Viserys had no interest in turning it into a tourist attraction or charging admission for dragon sightseeing tours. Dragons, after all, were dangerous creatures, unpredictable and vtile.
Tradition dictated that the crown prince bore the title
Prince of Dragonstone until ascending the throne. With Willem now emperor, his eldest son, Caesar, was the rightful heir to the title. However, Caesar was still in Kings Landing, apanying his father at public events.
Dragonstone, therefore, was unusually quiet. The air was heavy with the mingling scents of sulfur, blood, and the ever-present sea breeze, which masked the harsher odors.
Though over a hundred dragons now lived across the realm, most of the dragons at Dragonstone were still younglings. Any mature dragons over four or five meters long and capable of flight had already been imed by Targaryen Dragon Knights. From a distance, young dragons norger than chickens or ducks could be seen pping their wings in clumsy attempts to fly.
As Viserys and Dany descended on their yellow and silver dragons, a young gray dragonnded nearby, its curiosity evident. Soldiers stationed on Dragonstone quickly recognized the new arrivals, but when one began approaching to greet them, Viserys waved him away.
This was a rare momenta world of two, where each was the others entire focus.
Their ns for the journey ahead had been meticulously discussed. First, they would visit the Free Cities, offering morale-boosting appearances on behalf of their newly crowned son. It was their gift to Willem, a gesture of support after his ascension.
Next, they would travel to Valyria, where efforts to explore and develop the ancient ruins were ongoing. It was clear that for the next few centuries, much of the empires progress in magic and technology would rely heavily on archaeology and the rediscovery of Valyrian secrets.
After Valyria, they would turn to vers Bay, where troubling signs of verys resurgence had begun to surface. Not long ago, Viserys had dispatched an army to stamp out the remnants of the Harpys influence, nearly losing his son Rudy in the process. Rudy believed his father was unaware of the risks he had taken, but Viserys knew all too well. If Rudy had perished, Viserys would not have hesitated to turn vers Bay into a scorched wastnd.
Their journey would then take them to Qarth. The empires military presence in the city had ensured its submission, and its annual tributes were unfailingly punctual. The citys loyalty extended to remembering the birthdays of Viserys children, each of whom received a carefully chosen gift from Qarth each year.
After leaving Qarth, Viserys and Dany set their sights on Asshaiand shrouded in magic and mystery. It was a ce that had intrigued them for years, especially after the enigmatic Quaithe, who once issued cryptic warnings to Daenerys, vanished without a trace. Now, with the Night King defeated and the White Walkers no longer a threat, Viserys saw no reason to avoid venturing eastward.
If you want to go west, go east, had always been a saying that resonated with him. Exploring Asshai and its rumored arcane sorceries seemed a perfect fit for their journey. The two were fascinated by the idea of uncovering new mysteries and rediscovering ancient knowledge. Once they had experienced Asshai, their n was to continue eastward before eventually returning to Westeros.
Walking along the walls of Dragonstone, Viserys and Dany watched their grandchildren ying below. Dany cradled a peculiar young dragon with snowy white scales and jet-ck limbs and eyes.
As they strolled, Viserys recounted a tale that left Dany with a bemused expression.
So youre saying, she began skeptically, that this world of mine is just a story written by someone named Martin? And that youre not truly Viserys?
Relieved to finally share his secret, Viserys nodded. Yes. I was a sellsword from another world. If the story had followed its original path, you would have been married to Khal Drogo by Illyrios arrangement, and the real Viserys would have met his end in Vaes Dothrak, killed by molten gold.
Danys violet eyes searched his face, her expression thoughtful rather than angry. For a long moment, she remained silent. Finally, she looked up and said, Brother, you should consider writing a new story
A World Without Restorers.
Viserys blinked, surprised. You believe me?
Yes, Dany replied simply. Thats why I suggested
A World Without Restorers, not
A World Without Viserys.
So you ept who I am? he asked, still stunned by her openness.
Of course, she said with a faint smile. If someone looks like Viserys, acts like Viserys, and lives as Viserys, then he
is Viserys.
With that, sheunched a yful attack on his private parts,ughing at his startled reaction. Viserys quickly dropped the subject, realizing that Danys pragmatism left no room for existential musings. They had lived as siblings and partners for decades, and there was no reason to disrupt their bond over theoretical matters.
The two set off with their grandchildren and great-grandchildren, spending over a year touring the Free Cities. They found remnants of the exiled Lannisters and Arryns in ces like Vntis and Braavos, far from Westeros. These families, stripped of their assets, had faded into obscurity over the decades.
Viserys felt no guilt for their downfall. Compared to the rulers of the world he once knewwho often resorted to annihting entire families or nshe had been remarkably merciful. This restraint, of course, stemmed not only from his moralpass but also from the unshakable power of the Targaryen dynasty, bolstered by their dragons.
After the Free Cities, the pair visited vers Bay. Years ago, the Harpy cultists had murdered the empires local administrators. After a decisive crackdown, they had since been subdued, though vignce remained necessary. Thergest pyramid in Astapor had been repurposed into a royal pce, though no Targaryen royals resided there. With the sheer number of Targaryen descendantsnearly a hundredit was already challenging to distribute them across Westeros and the Free Cities. Valyrias ongoing restoration also required significant manpower, leaving vers Bay under the capable governance of Missandei.
Now in her forties, Missandei had be a respected administrator. She had married a nobleman from Meereen and raised a family of her own, yet she remained fiercely loyal to the Targaryen cause. As Viserys and Dany walked with her in the Garden, Missandei greeted them with warmth and admiration.
Your Grace looks as young as ever, she said, her tone filled with both respect and wistfulness. Her gaze lingered on Dany and Viserys, reflecting not just blessings but also a trace of envy.
After all, as mortal years began to show on her own features, it was only natural to feel a pang of longing for the timeless beauty that her rulers still possessed.
Upon learning that Viserys and Dany were nning a journey to the Shadow Lands, she voiced her concerns.
Chapter 451, Side Story: The Shadow Lands
Chapter 451, Side Story: The Shadow Lands
Asshai was a destination Viserys was resolute to reach. Deep within, he carried a vague conviction that it was the source of the worlds magic.
On their journey, they paused briefly in vers Bay. The Faith of the Harpy had been ruthlessly eradicated a few years prior, leaving it nearly extinct from Meereen to Astapor. Following the bloody suppression, the Faith had been all but obliterated. In its ce, the Seven Sanctuaries and the Temple of the Lord of Light were swiftly constructed.
After exploring the area, Viserys and Daenerys departed. The seven grandchildren had left first, their excitement for Qarth evident. Since childhood, they had received birthday gifts from Qarth and often had one or two Qartheen servants attending to them. This lifelong connection had filled them with anticipation for the fabled city.
The azure sky above vers Bay seemed to have long forgotten the smoke of war. The sea breeze carried the scent of freedom as countless sails unfurled. Nobles from all corners of the Bay gathered to bid farewell. Dust swirled as the two dragons, one golden and the other silver, stretched their wings and ascended, leaving the earth behind. The crowd watched in awe, their reverence rivaling the devotion found in any church or temple.
Among them, Missandei stood, her thoughts drifting as her gaze followed the dragons. She couldnt help but reflect on how everything she now had stemmed from that pivotal year. When Viserys had first doubted her, her world felt like it had crumbled. Yet, he had surprised everyone. Not only had he outmaneuvered the veowners and imed the Unsullied, but he had also safeguarded his life through sheer cunning.
From that moment, Missandeis faith in Viserys solidified. She saw him as a benevolent and wise king.
Magic is bing more unstable. Should we press on? Daenerys asked, her voice tinged with concern.
As they continued eastward, the light began to dim. Even on clear mornings, the sun often seemed absent. Their grandchildren had been left in Qarth long before they departed, and they felt assured about the decision.
In Qarth, there was no force that could oppose House Targaryen. The familys power ensured their descendants could traverse the world unchallenged, a stark contrast to the struggles Viserys had endured. Still, Asshai was differenta ce shrouded in foreboding. The grandchildrens youth and vulnerability were ill-suited for its sinister aura.
Viserys had ceded the throne to his son with startling swiftness, driven by an unyielding desire to uncover the origins of magic. The energy emanating from the Shadow Lands seemed vtile, as though it were spilling uncontrobly.
For years, Viserys had pondered the "redet," the herald of the magic tide. But where had the tide originated? The answer seemed clear: Asshai.
The aftermath of the magic tide had sustained House Targaryen long after Valyrias fall. Even centuriester, it was why they had been able to hatch dozens of dragons. But the true sourcethe heart of this powerawaited in Asshai.
Compared to Valyria''s 5,000 years of dominance and the unknown period of its rise, this aftermath was incredibly short-lived, Viserys said, sharing his spection with Dany.
In other words, the aftermath of this magic tide ended just after the Dance of the Dragons concluded. Or... the Dragon Disaster might have just been... a scapegoat? Dany hesitated, using a term she had learned from Viserys.
Yes. I even suspect the ancestors of the Valyrians originally came from Asshai. Nowhere in the known world has more abundant resources than the Fourteen mes, Viserys said, feeling closer than ever to uncovering the truth.
So, what exactly causes the highest concentration of magic here? Dany asked.
Dimensions, Viserys replied.
Dimensions?
ording to the map of the world of Ice and Fire, thend of Asshai is actually located in the''s lowtitude region, logically speaking, the lower thetitude, the more abundant the sunlight.
Take the Summer Isles, for examplethe people there are all incredibly dark-skinned because of this abundance of light.
But the Shadow Lands are peculiar. Why are they called the Shadow Lands?
But the Shadow Lands are an anomaly. Why are they called the Shadow Lands? If there is shadow, something must be blocking the light.
Viserys immediately thought of an astronomical phenomenontidal locking.
Viseryss mind immediately jumped to an astronomical theory: tidal locking.
''It could mean our has a moon. And if thats true...''
To verify his theory, they needed to continue their journey. Viserys even spected that others might have arrived at simr conclusions. But what had the people of Asshai, where magic had never waned, attempted?
The thought filled him with anticipation and excitement. As Dany wanted to pack up the tent, her hand suddenly froze. She noticed a familiar shadowQuaithe.
Dany instinctively reached for the hilt of her sword, her body tense. Viserys noticed her unease and followed her gaze. A woman in a ck cloak and red mask stood not far away. Unlike the spectral vision Dany had encountered decades ago, this Quaithe was unmistakably real.
Forty years had passed since theirst meeting. Now here she was again. Viserys couldnt help but wonder about her purpose.
Before he could speak, Quaithe stepped closer and gave a graceful bow. Your Grace Viserys, Your Grace Daenerys.
Viserys, who had nearly mastered the power of the Night King, felt no apprehension. He observed her appearance and listened to her voice calmly. It reminded him of a cold, clear stream.
You are Quaithe. What brings you to us? he asked, offering no deference to the masked visitor.
He half-expected her to make a pleaperhaps to join Valyrias expeditions or request assistance of some sort. But Quaithes purpose was entirely unexpected.
She wanted to perform a moonwalk.
Not toward the bright moon visible at night, but to a celestial body they called the ck Moon, which hovered over the Shadow Lands.
Weve tried countless methods, Quaithe exined, her voice tinged with frustration. But it seems our pulls us back whenever we ascend. We cant rise beyond a certain altitude.
Her distress was palpable, but Viserys immediately understood their predicament.
Congrattions, he said dryly. Youve discovered gravity.
Quaithe tilted her head slightly, as if the term was unfamiliar.
Thats because your ascent isnt fast enough to reach the first cosmic velocity, also known as orbital velocity. To escape your''s gravitational pull, your speed must meet or exceed this velocity. Advancing our technology significantlyperhaps by a few centuriesmight be necessary to achieve this," he added.
Dany watched her brother in amazement, as though seeing him for the first time. She had spent a lifetime with Viserys. Together, they had built a vast empire and raised seven children. Yet, these strange wordsfirst cosmic velocity and technological advancementwere new and alien to her.
Brother, what is it like in the world youe from?
She looked at Quaithe, who seemed to know everything but was now acting like a desperate illiterate in front of Viserys.
"Three hundred years? Yes, that''s nothing to me. Can you give me some direction?" Quaithe''s tone betrayed an almost obsessive pursuit of the so-called
ck moon.
Seeing her react this way, Viserys realized this "astronaut" didnt quite grasp the point he was trying to make.
After a brief pause, he attempted to rephrase. "How many people are there in your... ''astronaut'' organization?"
Though unfamiliar with the term
astronaut, Quaithe understood the gist of his question. When it came to her organization, there was a hint of pride in her voice. Viserys could almost picture her expression beneath the mask.
"We have the world''srgest wizard organization here. We would be delighted to have you join us, should you wish."
"Just tell me how many people you have," Viserys interrupted, impatient.
Before replying, Quaithe''s chest rose slightly, as if she was drawing confidence from within.
"We have 2,000 powerful witches from all over the world."
Hearing this, Viserys nearly scoffed. He might not know much about "aerospace," but even he understood it was an industry that required the efforts of hundreds of thousands of individuals. It was an intellectually demanding field, reliant on tens of thousands of scientists working coboratively.
These scientists took decades to train, supported by education systems refined over centuries. The technological advancements they achieved were the result of countless years of incremental progress.
In that light, Viserys thought, three hundred years was already a conservative estimate. Civilization wasnt a
game where one could leap from the Stone Age tounching satellites overnight. However, acknowledging that this was a fantasy world, he conceded that some challenges might be ovee in ways he couldn''t anticipate.
Still, he couldn''t suppress his curiosity about Quaithe''s sorcerer''s guild of 2,000 members.
"ording to Your Grace, not even a dragon can leave this?" Quaithe asked, her frustration evident. Although her understanding of such matters was limited, her mind was sharp enough to grasp the implications.
Viserys now understood her true intentions for contacting Dany: she wanted to
borrow a dragon to go to the moon. She had even imed to have a special potion for the dragon that could greatly enhance its power.
"It''s useless," Viserys said bluntly. "The further you get from the ground, the thinner the air bes. A dragon is like a swimmerit needs its element. Without air, it cannot fly."
Realizing her ns were fundamentally wed, Quaithe''s demeanor visibly deted, her aura shrinking, as if she''d lost half her confidence.
The Shadow Lands only received a brief window of sunlight each afternoon, perhaps three hours at most. Even during this time, volcanic ash and smoke shrouded the region, leaving the already sparse vegetation even more deste.
Quaithes sorcerer organization was based in a valley to the south of the Shadow Lands. There, the sorcerers had carved out their homes in the caves lining the valley walls.
Viserys and Danynded their dragon on a hill to the west, overlooking the valley. Quaithe wasted no time and soon returned with a male sorcerer wearing a yellow mask.
"Does everyone here wear a mask?"
Viserys''s tone carried a hint of displeasure as he scrutinized the man before him. His disdain was thinly veiled.
With looks like this, you still think you can go to the moon? he thought, his skepticism sharpening.
This is a colossal undertaking that demandsplete cooperation, and if this keeps up, even making it to the bedrock seems improbable.
But before he could linger too long in his contempt, the man in the yellow mask removed it.
Beneath was a lean, middle-aged man, likely in his fifties. His sharp, angr features gave Viserys the impression of an "old pedant"serious and methodical.
"Your Grace Viserys," the man began, his voice steady and polite, "masks are a necessity in the Shadow Lands. If you don''t mind, we have also prepared masks for Your Graces."
Quaithe stepped forward and produced two silver masks of a simr style from an unseenpartment, handing them to Viserys and Dany.
The exnation followed: the Magic of the Shadow Lands was vtile, even affecting the minds of those exposed to it. The sight of human faces for prolonged periods seemed to exacerbate the disorder of Magic. Here, they recognized each other primarily by their eyes.
The sorcerer in the yellow mask introduced himself as Yandor.
Viserys and Dany followed Yandor to his "cave." With a wave of his hand, the vines covering the entrance slithered away like living snakes. Viserys, ustomed to simr techniques unearthed in Valyria, barely batted an eye.
As the vines receded, a warm yellow light spilled out from within. The moment they stepped inside, the rich, distinct fragrance of herbs greeted them.
Above their heads hung enchanted yellowmps, bathing the interior in aforting glow. The cave revealed itself to be a surprisingly expansive greenhouse. Rows of herbs were carefully cultivated behind ss enclosures.
Through this lush "flower garden," the group moved deeper into the cave until they reached Yandor''s personal quartersorboratory.
The walls of theboratory were lined with shelves crammed with jars and bottles in all shapes and sizes. Some were squat and round; others had long, delicate necks.
From a small, well-organized box, Yandor carefully extracted two bottles norger than eye drop containers. Inside, the liquid shimmered like molten gold, catching the overhead light.
Danys eyes were immediately drawn to the golden potion, unable to look away.
"This is a potion I developed specifically for dragons," Yandor said casually. "It seems to have no practical use, so I offer it to you as a gift."
Viserys took the potion, inspecting it with mild curiosity before passing both bottles to Dany when he noticed her fascination.
"So, do you still n to leave this ce?" Viserys asked, watching Yandor intently.
"Yes," Yandor replied, his voice tinged with determination. "Your advice has inspired us to take a new approach. We have decided to forge a different path forward."
Viserys couldn''t help but respect their tenacity.
The world moves forward because of people like this, he mused.
If they truly create something extraordinary, Ill reap the benefits as well.
"Why note back to Westeros with me? Or even Valyria?" Viserys proposed. "My people have been excavating the ruins of Doom for over twenty years now. There may be something there to aid you."
Viseryss Royal School of Magic, though boasting nearly 3,000 members, still struggled with the general weakness of its practitioners. Recruiting individuals like Quaithe and Yandor could exponentially elerate the progress of excavating the Doom.
With their expertise, the development of the ruins could advance tenfold, Viserys thought, his mind already racing with the possibilities.
Chapter 452, Side Story: The Deposed Dragon
Chapter 452, Side Story: The Deposed Dragon
In the year 366 of the Restoration calendar, an immense imperial fleet traversed the Narrow Sea toward the Summer Pce.
The fleet stretched endlessly, a vast procession of ships d in brass. Even the escort warships bore the same resplendent armor, gleaming faintly despite the ominous atmosphere. The fleet cut through the sea like a dark sword, leaving a frothy trail that resembled milky white blood.
At the head of the formation was the imperial gship,
The Restorer, its bow adorned with seven golden dragon heads, their craftsmanship wless and imposing. The ship''s splendor was mirrored in the updated royal banner: a red field featuring seven dragons intertwined, their ck tails forming a circr bloom like a flower in full bloom. The dragon g fluttered high above the fleet, its motion mimicking the movements of dragons in flight.
Yet, despite the grandeur, the fleet exuded an air of sorrow and foreboding. A heavy, brooding ck cloud loomed above, oppressive and unyielding, as though the heavens themselves were in judgment. The once-majestic Targaryen royal family, which had moved its capital to Valyria seventy years earlier, now seemed weighed down by the gravity of its own fate.
After four days at sea, the fleet reached a newly converted port at the location of the former Storm''s End. As the ships docked, the most striking cargo was revealeda massive ck casket, carried by eight towering giants.
The casket was a marvel, ten meters in length and over three meters wide, its surface carved with the figure of a crouching dragon. The scales of the dragon were iid with gleaming blue gems, and the coffin radiated an icy chill. Draped over it was a man in regal attire, though his emaciated frame and disheveled demeanor betrayed his declining state.
This was Emperor Roy Targaryen, the ruler of Valyria. His hands moved ceaselessly over the coffin, as if entranced, while he muttered iprehensible phrases, his voice dreamlike and hollow.
After the casket was lowered onto the dock, Roy himself descended, barefoot, and led the procession toward the Summer Pce.
Will
The Restorer forgive Grandfather?
A young girl with silver hair and violet eyes, unmistakably a member of the Targaryen family, asked the question softly. Her voice was directed toward a burly warrior who walked beside her.
The warrior hesitated, a bitter expression crossing his face. "I don''t know," he replied. His gaze shifted toward Roy, now a shell of his former self, and it was clear he harbored no hope. The emperor''s actions had left him broken and bereft of the will to live.
The atmosphere of the procession was somber, heavy with whispered schemes and hidden agendas. The emperor hadmitted an unthinkable crime: he had in his heir with his own hands.
The sacred symbol of sessiony vacant, the empire left without a clear heir. Panic gripped the realm. The only living member of the emperor''s direct line was a single granddaughter. The imperial session faced a crisis of unprecedented proportions.
In the absence of a direct sessor, the focus turned to the emperors three younger brothers, each a potential contender for the throne.
Jaehaerys, the second brother, controlled ver''s Bay, Valyrias closest and most strategically positioned territory. As the empire''srgest grain supplier besides Westeros, ver''s Bay was invaluable. Jaehaerys also dominated trade with Iti, and his influence extended to the Jade Sea. His wealth and power were unmatched.
Caesar, the third brother,manded the Great Grass Sea and several burgeoning cities in the north. With the Targaryen family boasting over a thousand dragons, of which 200cked Dragon Knights, Caesar''s domain in the "Dragon Pasture" made him a central figure for dragon riders. His influence over Dragon Knights bolstered his im immensely.
Willem, the youngest brother, was the least powerful of the three. Reckless and adventurous, he frequently embarked on perilous ventures, returning from Essos with his life hanging by a thread more often than not.
The group had now split into three distinct factions: the emperor''s personal guards and close aides, the men loyal to Roy, and those aligned with Jaehaerys. The fourth and youngest brother, Willem, was almost entirely isted, his onlypanion being his wifea figure of little significance in the power dynamics.
As rain began to fall, its steady rhythm amplified the sorrow permeating the procession. The mncholy felt among the thousands of marchers seemed to ferment under the gray, wet sky. Caesars advisers quickly pulled out umbres for their lord. He seemed poised to lose his temper at the inconvenience but paused, as if recalling something, and ordered a subordinate to fetch Jaehaerys''s umbre instead.
To Caesars surprise, Jaehaerys took the umbre himself and walked not to Caesar, but to Willem, the youngest brother. This subtle act of solidarity underscored the unspoken tensions brewing within the family.
Under the veil of this quiet confrontation, the vast procession of thousands arrived at the gates of the Summer Pce.
Although Emperor and Empress
The Restorer had departed this world over 250 years earlier, their presence loomed eternal over the empire. The Summer Pce was not merely a relic of their reign but a sacred site of pilgrimage for Targaryen rulers. Every emperor, without exception, visited this ce before ascending to the throne and was interred here upon death. The pce served as the royal familys tomb, symbolizing a bridge between Westeros and the Essos continent.
For Emperor Roy, his return to Westeros and the Summer Pce carried a weight of purpose: an attempt to atone for his unforgivable sin.
When the group reached the circr stone gate marking the pce''s entrance, most of the guards remained outside. Only the emperors closest advisers and family members apanied him through the gate. The smaller party moved along Summer Avenue, nked by two rows of statues depicting dragons in various posturessome poised to strike, others rearing majestically.
Jaehaerys turned to his entourage and instructed them to stay behind, leaving the emperor''s family to continue alone.
Of the nearly 2,000 who had initially set out on this journey, only Roy''s brothers and the emperors lone granddaughter followed him into the grand hall. The group now numbered no more than twenty.
Inside the hall, they stopped before towering portraits of Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen. The eight giants carrying the emperor''s ck casket set it down with a heavy, resonant thud. The sound reverberated through the chamber, creating a suffocating tension. It was as though an unseen force gripped the hearts of everyone present, rendering them incapable of further thought.
Roy knelt to offer his prayer, and as he did, something extraordinary urred. The painted eyes of Daenerys flickered open, her gaze sharp and imperious, cutting through the room. From where the group stood, the immense portrait seemed less like a painting and more like a massive window cut into the wall, through which Viserys and Daenerys appeared as towering giants observing their descendants.
Emperor, what is it? Daeneryss voice was steady, carrying the weight of centuries. Though she still appeared in her early thirties, her aura radiated authority umted over a thousand years.
By now, the Targaryen dynasty had seen sixteen or seventeen emperors, their names and legacies blurring into insignificance for the long-dead rulers. To Daenerys, all were simply "emperors."
Your Grace, I... I killed... I killed my own son.
Emperor Roy, nearly fifty but reduced to the frailty of a child caught in a grievous act, copsed beside the ck casket. His sobs echoed in the vast hall as he clung to the cold surface of the coffin. Tears streamed down his face as he choked on his words, unable to offer a coherent exnation.
Daenerys fixed him with a cold, piercing gaze, her expression unwavering as she demanded the full story.
Taking advantage of Roys inability to speak, Caesar stepped forward. With measuredposure, he recounted the tragic events.
The emperor had distanced himself from his son, the crown prince, due to his perceived cowardice. Unscrupulous advisers exploited the rift, nting seeds of mistrust between father and son. The crown prince, desperate to reconcile, sought an audience with the emperor. In a moment of tension and confusion, the emperor, in a fit of panic, had struck his son with his walking stick.
Under normal circumstances, such an injury would have been trivialeasily healed with the magical and medical advancements of Valyria. However, the emperors walking stick was no ordinary object; it bore powerful, destructive enchantments. The crown prince died instantly.
Consumed by grief and rage, Royshed out, even executing several royal healers in a futile attempt to reverse the tragedy.
As Caesar spoke, he used magic to recreate the fateful scene for Daenerys. The illusion depicted the emperor cradling his sons lifeless body. The princes bulging eyes and gasping mouth, reminiscent of a fish stranded on a shore, struck everyone in the hall with unbearable rity.
This alchemical recreation, akin to a "surveince recording," had be a standard practice among the Targaryens. Caesars retelling was unembellished, the scene hauntingly vivid.
Daeneryss expression turned colder, her silence cutting deeper than any reprimand. Caesar dared to nce at her face but quickly averted his gaze, sensing her mounting disapproval.
When he finished, the hall fell into an oppressive silence.
Everyone felt immense pressure in the situation. After a while, Dany broke the silence:
"Caesar, you handle those ttering advisers."
"Yes...yes, Your Grace!" Caesar replied with some trepidation, though a hint of self-satisfaction flickered across his face.
Just then, Dany turned her gaze toward Jaehaerys. The second son seemed to sense her attention and looked up to meet her eyes.
"My name is Jaehaerys, Your Grace," he said.
"Jaehaerys, I appoint you Regent. You will assist Roy''s daughter and choose the next sessor."
"Yes, Your Grace!" Jaehaerys responded promptly, his tone decisive and unwavering.
Although Dany did not explicitly announce Roy''s punishment, the decision had already been made.
First and foremost, there was no need to debate removing him from the throne. As for Roys fatewhether he would live or diesuch matters were better left to him. After all, he was still an emperor. For rulers of their stature, losing control over their own lives and deaths would surely breed resentment. Such a loss of agency could have far-reaching consequences, undermining their authority and the respect owed to the throne.
Allowing Roy to make his own decision was a carefully calcted move.
Thus, Roys daughter was named "Catherine" by Dany.
She would go on to be the first female Targaryen empress in history, ascending the throne as the Great. Her reign wouldst seventy years, marking her as the longest-serving Targaryen ruler.
After concluding the matter, the royal family members left the hall. Dany watched their retreating figures, her eyes betrayingplex emotions. These people were her blood. Yet, as the years passed, she had grown increasingly detached from them. The Targaryen name had multiplied, its bearers now too numerous to count.
Her thoughts drifted back to an incident nearly a century earlier. Dany had once dealt with a Targaryen of Dothraki descent. A silver-haired Dothraki had stolen a dragon from the Targaryen dragon farm and attempted to unite the surrounding tribes. It was suspected that this Dothraki was descended from the royal line.
However, upon investigation, it was discovered that his lineage traced back to a woman named Asha. The tribe''s revered "sacred object" was a square iron coin pendant from Braavos. ording to legend, any Dothraki warrior who wore the pendant would remain undefeated in battle.
When Dany pieced the story together, she felt no resentment toward Viserys. Back then, the Targaryens had endured extreme hardships. Their family had been reduced to just the two of themherself and Viserys. If she hadnt sought marriage alliances, then Viserys would have been forced to make suchpromises.
Now, in her returned 3D state, Dany found herself in another world.
"What''s up, brother? Are you done yet?"
In a nk white space, Viserys crouched near a dooror more urately, a simple doorframe standing alone in the void. He was meticulously tracing intricate runes onto the frame with his wand.
"Almost. Just wait a bit longer," he replied, his tone focused.
Over the past 300 years, Viserys had told Dany everything about himself, including the fact that he was a Transmigrator
. This revtion had been difficult for Dany to grasp. The idea that someone could transmigrate into a book was absurd to her.
"For example," Viserys had once exined, "if I had read Harry Potter and the Philosopher''s Stone and Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and then somehow entered those booksknowing the plots in advancewouldn''t that mean I could predict future events? Stop Voldemort before he even rose to power?"
Dany had listened but remained skeptical. She dismissed much of it as one of Viserys''s more entric ideas. After all, if someone told you the world you lived in was fictionala fabrication of someone else''s imaginationhow could you possibly believe it?
But in the end, it didnt really matter. Their physical bodies had died over five centuries ago, yet their spirits and souls had found a ce to linger. Over time, Viserys''s mastery of magic had advanced beyond recognitionnot just in spellcraft but also in alchemy.
Now, he was on the verge ofpleting something extraordinary: a "portal." ording to his deep study of magical rituals, the portal, once finished, would allow him to take Dany to another world.
Through years of contemtion, Viserys hade to understand a fundamental truth:
Stories were not mere fabricationsthey were reflections of reality.
In essence, every story was a projection of a world''s will. Though authors created and wrote them, the source material came from the fabric of reality itself. Thus, the world of
A Song of Ice and Fire and the world of
Harry Potter were both as real as their own existence.
Armed with this belief, Viserys sought to construct the
Gate of the Heavensa portal capable of transporting him and Dany to any world he had "seen" through stories.
With a hum, the frame began to glow. A shimmering purple light rippled within the portal.
"It worked?" Dany asked, her excitement barely contained.
Viserys studied the glowing Celestial Gate. To ensure its safety, he threw a coin with a string tied to it into the portal. Pulling the coin back and confirming no anomalies, he extended his hand cautiously.
As his hand passed through the portal, it seemed to dissolve into the air. It didnt reappear on the other side.
Dany remained tense but prepared, her hands aglow with a protective orange light. If anything happened to Viserys, she would intervene immediately.
When Viserys withdrew his hand and confirmed he was unharmed, he stepped through the Gate of the Heavens. Dany followed closely, and together they emerged in a dense jungle.
Viserys tapped the portal''s frame, causing it to shrink and transform into a pendant, which he hung around his neck.
Their brief moment of curiosity was interrupted by a ferocious roar.
"Hurry! Catch that little bitch!"
They turned toward themotion. A silver-haired girl, her face marred by a knife scar, was sprinting toward them. Blood soaked her clothing, and her steps faltered with each stride.
She managed only a weak "Help..." before copsing at their feet.
Dany rushed to her side, immediately assessing her injuries. Before she could react further, a group of thuggish pursuers burst into view.
"Damn it, there are two more Witchers here!" one of them growled, brandishing weapons.
Chapter 453: Extra Story – Ciri’s Power
Chapter 453: Extra Story C Ciris Power
Several riders sat astride high horses, looking down at Viserys and Dany with a mix of curiosity and disdain. Their leader, a man d in ck and silver shoulder armor, had a tawny beard that jutted out from his cheeks like a steel brush. His expression betrayed a mixture of suspicion and unease as he studied the two strangers before him.
Viserys and Dany, newly arrived in this world, were d in simple robes. Though the designs on their garments were sparse, the quality of the fabric was unmistakably luxurious. Even in their unadorned attire, an aura of authority radiated from them, unnerving the riders.
To the men, the pair''s sudden appearance in the dense forest was as jarring as stumbling upon an ornate, gilded mirror in the heart of untamed wilderness.
The leader hesitated, weighing his options. He wondered if these silver-haired strangers might be nobles on some entric hunting expedition. Yet their striking hair and demeanor didnt match any noble lineage he recognized. Finally, with cautious authority, he spoke:
Who are you? What are you doing here?
Before Viserys or Dany could reply, one of the riders scoffed. Theyre just Witchers dressed a little too finely, he sneered, his gaze lingering on Dany with unsettling boldness. He exaggeratedly swallowed, the sound of his gulping loud enough to draw attention.
Viseryss patience for such provocations had long since waned. After briefly assessing his surroundings, he realized his magic remained intact even in this unfamiliar world. Without a word, he raised his hand and pointeda subtle, unassuming gesture.
The riders initially dismissed the motion as harmless, but their nonchnce evaporated as a scream of agony erupted from their ranks. The leader spun around to see one of his men convulsing violently, smoke pouring from his mouth, nose, and eyes. Faint orange mes flickered within the mans orifices before consuming him entirely.
Panic rippled through the group. The realization dawned quickly: this was no ordinary fire. The man was burning from the inside out.
The riders scrambled to flee, spurring their horses into desperate retreats. Yet one by one, each began tobust in the same horrific manner. Screams filled the air as the scent of charred flesh mingled with the acrid tang of burning leather.
Within moments, the clearing was littered with writhing, ming bodies. Their agonized movements resembled insects doused in poison, twitching helplessly as the mes devoured them.
The leader, miraculously untouched, dismounted in a frenzy and threw himself to the ground before Viserys.
Lord Sorcerer! he cried, trembling. What do you wish to know? I will tell you anythingeverything!
Viserys''s lips curled in satisfaction. It was clear the man had a keen survival instinct, a trait that had likely helped him climb to a position of minor leadership among his peers.
With a wave of his hand, Viserys summoned a gust of wind that carried away the stench of burning flesh. The kneeling man, still trembling, began answering Viseryss questions, his desperation to stay alive overriding any hesitation.
Through this interrogation, Viserys confirmed his suspicions: they had indeed arrived in the world of
The Witcher. The girl the riders had been hunting was named Ciri.
Ciri? Dany murmured, her confusion evident. The name tugged at her memory, evoking thoughts of the magical feats she had seen before. The Targaryens had once experimented with simr Valyrian magic, but they had sealed off the technique long ago after realizing its dangers.
Viserys corrected her pronunciation with mild amusement before kneeling to examine the unconscious girl.
Meanwhile, the man with the brown beard, who had hoped he was safe, suddenly felt a wave of darkness engulf him. When he awoke, his body moved not by his own will but as if strings controlled him. Faint blue light glowed at the corners of his eyes, signaling the change.
Viserys had used a spell to bind him into a lifeless puppet. After all, Viserys was no stranger to deathhis experience made him an excellent judge of those who had blood on their hands. The mans body now served only as a tool.
Viserys ced the injured girl, Ciri, onto the horse. With Dany by his side, they prepared to leave.
There are dragons in this world! Viserys remarked as they rode. And some can even take on human forms.
Dany was startled. Dragons... that can turn into people? She found the idea difficult to fathom. What would such a creature even look like?
The thought of dragons stirred bittersweet memories. More than a century ago, the Targaryens had lost their two most prized dragonsthe Yellow Dragon and the Silver Dragon. The empire had honored them with an borate funeral, as over two-thirds of the living Targaryen dragons at the time were descendants of those six original dragons.
To blend into this unfamiliar world, Viserys and Dany changed into new attire and altered their appearances. Their once-striking silver hair was dyed a soft xen to avoid unwanted attention. Donning crowns looted from the bandits, they checked into a modest inn, hoping to keep a low profile.
Over a meal of foreign delicacies, the pair discussed their next steps, including the prospect of finding one of these dragons that could take human form.
As they talked, Ciri stirred. With a faint groan, she opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry at first, but it sharpened as she took in the sight of Viserys and Dany eating at a table nearby.
Questions flooded her mind.
Who are these people? Where am I? And what happened to the Witchers who saved me earlier?
Her gaze lingered on Dany, captivated by her ethereal beauty. Even in Ciris world, where enchantresses like Yennefer were famed for their allure, Danys appearance seemed almost otherworldly. It was a beauty so perfect that it bordered on inhuman, leaving Ciri feeling self-conscious.
Then her eyes turned to Viserys. His striking handsomeness left her equally stunned.
Even more so than Geralt, she thought. How could someone like this exist?
Instinctively, Ciri reached for the scar on her face but winced as pain shot through her body. She decided to stay still, only tilting her head slightly to observe them further. Her curiosity deepened when she noticed their unusual purple eyes.
Theyre Witchers too, Ciri thought, recalling Yennefers violet gaze. The realization fascinated her.
Dont peekI know youre awake, Viserys said suddenly, ncing at her with a smile as he finished his meal.
Caught off guard, Ciri felt a flush of embarrassment. Im sorry, she said, her voice soft. Master, where are the two Witchers who saved me earlier? Have you seen them?
In her haste to escape earlier, she hadnt paid attention to her rescuers appearances. She assumed their silver hair marked them as Witchers and hoped they could offer her help.
Viserys and Dany exchanged a nce before casually revealing their true silver hair, shedding their disguises.
Viserys chose not to overwhelm Ciri with his knowledge of her abilities or her past. Instead, he let her lead the conversation, knowing it was better to build trust than to appear omniscient.
Under his gentle prompting, Ciri exined her purpose: she was heading to Kaer Morhen, a ce she considered her home.
Viserys listened intently, recognizing that Ciri had not yet awakened her full potentialparticrly her extraordinary ability to traverse time and space. If he could help her unlock and harness that power, it could be a critical asset for his and Danys journey across worlds.
With this in mind, he made a proposition to join them on a journey to Valyria.
"Of course, we will never force you. We can apany you to Kaer Morhen first, and if we obtain the consent of Geralt or Yenneferor bothyou can make your own choice."
Viserys made the conditions notably lenient.
Although she wasnt sure how the two had managed to elude their pursuers, her intuition told her that Viserys and Dany were not malicious. After some discussion, they agreed that the pair would apany her to Kaer Morhen.
In this world, there were no tools for long-distancemunication, and Viserys was only vaguely familiar with the plot of the Witcher. Still, there was no doubt that someone would be at Kaer Morhen. Changing his hair color to blend in better with the locals, Viserys, with the help of sufficient funds, ensured the three of them quickly approached the Wolf School''s stronghold.
Along the way, Dany frequently voiced her displeasure to Viserys about this world.
Kingdoms were in constant conflict, lords vied for power, mercenaries thrived unchecked, and monsters lurked everywhere.
In Danys eyes, it would take at least two centuries to bring order to such chaos. Having governed an empire for over thirty years, she had long developed a deep disdain for disorder. Her aversion to the fractured social structure stemmed, in no small part, from Viseryss own influence. Both despised ambition that led to division and the mercenaries who profited from it.
As they drew closer to Kaer Morhen, Ciris excitement grew palpable. When they finally reached the Blue Mountains, the scarred young woman couldnt help but let out a cheer. Upon arriving at the crumbling castle at the mountain''s summit, her emotions overwhelmed her.
Vesemir! Old man! Old man, Im back!!!
The moment Ciri entered the worn-down stronghold, she could barely contain her tion, her voice echoing through the halls.
A middle-aged man with a robust frame but unmistakable signs of age on his face emerged hurriedly at her call. His lips trembled as he uttered, Ciri...
He was on the verge of embracing her when his gaze fell on Viserys and Dany standing behind her. He paused, suppressing his emotions.
Sensing Vesemirs hesitation, Ciri quickly exined the presence of herpanions. She didnt know their true identities but reassured the old Witcher that, though intrigued by her abilities, they harbored no ill intent. After hearing her ount, Vesemir epted her words cautiously. A man who had lived for centuries couldnt rely solely on the testimony of a young girl, but he invited the pair into the castle with respectful wariness.
Doing his utmost, the old Witcher prepared a modest but thoughtful meal for his guests.
I dont know where Yennefer and Geralt are at the moment, Vesemir exined. Theyre both searching for Ciri. Geralt will likely return when winter sets in, but Yennefer... Shes harder to track. Perhaps the witches at the coven know her whereabouts, but Ive no way to contact them.
Viserys was not the sort to sit idly by and wait. He preferred to act decisively. Whether dealing with the Horselords or Robert, he believed passivity invited chaos and unpredictability.
The root of this worlds turmoily with the empire of Nilfgaard, whose expansion was utterly devoid of justice. Determined to disrupt their power at its source, Viserys decided to assassinate their emperor and use the event as a tool of propagandaa move certain to draw the attention of Geralt and Yennefer.
Without dy, Viserys recorded Kaer Morhens coordinates into his
Gate of Realms. Then, wasting no time, he and Dany departed for the Nilfgaardian capital.
Compared to Valyria, Nilfgaard held little to impress. Its differences werergely superficial, with minor variations in architectural style.
Under cover of night, the two didnt even bother entering openly. Using invisibility magic, they easily infiltrated the pce.
This White me who dances on the graves of his enemies was receiving reports from his subordinates about the front-line battles, detailing the power dynamics of the region and the military deployments of every faction.
The emperor''s eyes lit up suddenly, as though he were about to speak. But then his expression shifted. He cougheda harsh, guttural soundbefore tasting blood in his mouth. His hand instinctively reached for his neck, only to find his fingers slick with crimson.
...
"I can''t say anything definitive about this; it all depends on what Ciri wants," Yennefer said, her voice calm but firm. Dressed in her signature ck and white attire, she carried the subtle scent of currants. Her hand rested protectively on Ciri''s shoulder, a silent anchor.
Despite her words, Yennefer''s gaze repeatedly shifted to Geralt, as though willing him to voice an opinion aligned with hers. But Geralt remained silent, his golden eyes shadowed with worry. His mind was preupied, weighing the implications of Ciri journeying to another world.
Can I go? Geralt finally asked, his tone measured but resolute as he looked directly at Viserys. While it was phrased as a question, itcked any true deference, leaving no doubt that Geralt would notpromise on having a guardian apany Ciri. His wariness of Viserys and Danys immense power was evident, but so was his determination.
For someone like Geralt to question an emperor, in a world where neither Witcher nor sorceress held ultimate authority, was a bold move. Witchers were often treated as outcasts, hunted or vilified, while even sorceresses were bound to serve the whims of worldly powers.
Yes! Viserys answered without hesitation, his response firm and unyielding.
In Viseryss view, moving Kaer Morhen entirely to a safer ce was a perfectly eptable solution. His confidence startled Yennefer, who raised an eyebrow at his willingness to offer such generous terms. While she wasnt one to ept aid lightlyespecially from strangersViserys was no savage warlord from beyond the Wall. He spoke and acted with authority and logic, which made his proposal difficult to refuse.
Vesemir, on the other hand, was pragmatic. With age weighing heavily on him, he was simply relieved that Ciri might have a chance at a better life. With Geralt and Yennefer by her side, he trusted that Ciris future would be safeguarded, no matter what.
At Kaer Morhens training grounds, Viserys unveiled his
Gate of Realms. A shimmering screen of blue-violet light materialized, casting an ethereal glow across the worn stones of the keep. The gathered group stared in astonishment, their expressions a mix of awe and skepticism.
Viserys stepped through first, leading the way with Dany following close behind. Then came Geralt, his steps steady but guarded. Yennefer followed, keeping a steady hand on Ciri, who hesitated for only a moment before stepping through.
On the other side of the portal, the group emerged into a sprawling wilderness, its air thick with wonder and magic. Ciri gasped, her eyes wide with amazement.
Oh my god! Dragons! So many dragons! she eximed.
Chapter 454, Side Story: So Quiet, and You Want to Be a Dragonrider?
Chapter 454, Side Story: So Quiet, and You Want to Be a Dragonrider?
A light breeze rustled through the grass, and white clouds driftedzily across the azure sky.
A group of noble youths strolled together, trailed by a retinue of servants, as they arrived at the Northern Dothraki Dragon Pasture. Among them were both men and women, all wearing sunsses that concealed half their faces. Even with only part of their features visible, it was clear they were all strikingly attractive.
Aegon, what color dragon do you want? asked one of the young men. His silver curls framed his face, and he wore a loose, pale gold robe.
Even after the reign of the Restorer Viserys, the name
Aegon remained popr among the Targaryens.
The boy addressed as Aegon was only fifteen. His thick silver hair fell over his ears and forehead, giving him a shy appearance. Stroking the bay horse beneath him, he replied softly, One as red as my Ateyor something close to itwill do.
The young man nodded, his hand idly running through his mounts mane with a mix of fondness and hesitation. Since when had the Targaryens been required to part with their horses upon bing dragon knights? It was an unspoken rulea symbolic shedding of their past selves to embrace the honor of dragon knighthood.
But Aegon didnt want to say goodbye.
His horse, Atey, had been hispanion since its days as a colt. To Aegon, Atey was more than a mount; it was his ymate, his confidant. Parting with it felt unbearable.
Just then, a maiden with a perpetual smile approached him.
Aegon is reluctant to leave his horse behind, isnt he?
From her youthful appearance, one might assume she was Aegons sister, but she was, in fact, his aunt. Her name was Chocole, honoring the youngest daughter of the Restorer Viserys.
Aegon nced at the others and saw that all eyes were on him. Embarrassed, he instinctively shook his head. But then Atey, as if sensing the moment, twisted its head and yfully nipped at Aegons anklea game they had shared since Atey was young.
Gritting his teeth, Aegon finally admitted, Yes! I dont want the dragon to eat Atey!
His deration took everyone by surprise, and then the group erupted intoughter. Aegon felt his face grow hot, as though he were wrapped in a leather cloak under the zing sun.
Aegon, said the young man who had spoken first, his tone gentler now, you must understand. A warhorse lives no more than thirty years, but a dragon can live over two hundred. Thanks to the Restorers blessings, each of us can live nearly a century. Theres nopanion other than a dragon that can stay with us for our entire lives.
The magical gifts bestowed by the Restorer had changed everything. With healing powers and amitment to the so-called Commandments of the Restorer, Targaryens had be a force to be reckoned with. Even without assistance, most could live well into their seventies or eighties. With care, many surpassed a hundred years.
The current record for longevity belonged to Aemon, the Restorers fourth son, who had lived to the remarkable age of 144.
However, Aegon remained unmoved by the arguments presented to him. He clung stubbornly to his belief, replying with quiet defiance:
If thats the case, then why cant I apany Atey for the rest of his life?
A new voice joined the conversation, this time belonging to a young woman. She, too, had slightly curly silver hair, her features bearing a striking resemnce to the young man who had been urging Aegon to let go of his mount. Her name was Victoria, chosen in honor of the Restorers eldest daughter.
Aegon, Victoria said firmly, her tone carrying an air of unyielding authority. You must remember that we Targaryens were born to be Dragon Knights. The longer the summer, the more dragons we have, and the more prosperous the people can be. It is the tradition of our house to offer the original mounts to those dragons who choose to serve us. You must ept this.
Victorias resolve was evident, her words reflecting the weight of tradition and responsibility that came with their lineage.
The groups bond ran deeper than just shared age or camaraderie. They had grown up together, their close ties strengthened by their familys influence and the shared cause they represented. As part of a powerful faction within the sprawling Targaryen dynastynow numbering over a thousand membersthey understood the necessity of presenting a united front. Their shared bloodline was both their strength and their burden.
Nearly four centuries had passed since the Restorer had ousted the usurpers and rebuilt Valyria. Over time, the Targaryen family had fractured into more than a dozen internal factions, each wielding considerable influence. These young rtives represented a formidable force within the empire. They knew the importance of alignment, yet Aegons hesitation was testing the patience of even his closest allies.
But Ive never heard of the Restorer feeding his mount to a dragon, Aegon muttered under his breath.
Only Chocolle, standing closest to him, caught the remark. She nced at him briefly but chose not to address it. For now, the group let the matter rest, setting out to begin their search for dragons.
The curly-haired youth was the first to seed, discovering his dragon near a cluster of boulders. It was a striking purple beast, nearly 20 meters long, with eyes as dark and glossy as polished inkstones. Victoria followed soon after, iming a magnificent blue dragon adorned with dark blue, ringed spots on its expansive wingseight in total.
The taming of two dragons in a single day marked an auspicious beginning to their mission. Although they had prepared for a month-long search, their progress exceeded expectations. One by one, the others found and bonded with dragons of their own, all in less than ten days.
Yet, their triumphs came at a cost. Each one had sacrificed their horse to solidify the bond.
Aegon, however, held Atey close, cradling the horsesrge, reddish-brown head in his arms. His heart ached as he whispered soothing words, hoping to calm his ymates fear. Watching his blood rtives be Dragon Knights only deepened the sense of unease within him. Even as he gazed at the majestic creatures, a cold dread began to take roota dangerous emotion for any aspiring Dragon Knight. To fear the very creature you sought to bond with was tantamount to a death sentence. A dragons fire had no mercy for hesitation.
Seven of the eight had imed their dragons, their achievements only adding to the pressure on Aegon. With fewer dragons remaining, he received help from his rtives to narrow down his choices. But as the days passed, Aegons struggles became ringly obvious.
Half a month went by, and Aegon still had no dragon to call his own. He found fault with their colors or faltered during the training process. Several attempts ended in failure, and on one asion, he narrowly escaped being buried alive by a dragon. His repeated missteps drew growing frustration from the group.
Aegon! How long are you going to keep this up?
The exasperated voice came from the silver-haired rider, who sat atop his dragon with an air of condescension. His piercing gaze was full of disdain as he looked down at Aegon, who had returned once again, dust-covered and defeated.
With less than five days remaining before their nned return, suspicion began to brew among the group. Some were starting to believe that Aegon was deliberately stalling.
I Aegons face flushed crimson as he averted his gaze, his eyes settling on his loyal mount, Atey.
The other riders gathered around him, their dragons forming a circle. Each dragon, an average of 20 meters long, loomed over Aegon and Atey, making them appear as vulnerable as a lone rabbit surrounded by a pride of lions.
Think of your father, who died in battle! Think of your mother, whos waiting for you at home! the silver-haired man bellowed, his voice cutting through the tense air like a whip. Tell me, Aegondo you want to be a Dragon Knight or not?
Aegons shoulders trembled at the outburst. Even Atey, as though sensing the gravity of the moment, lowered itsrge, reddish-brown head into Aegons arms forfort.
Aegon wasnt sure what scared him morethe fierce, predatory dragons that had already imed the lives of theirpanions, or the sheer intensity of the silver-haired mans reprimand.
Ill give you onest day, the man dered, his voice resolute. If you cant tame a dragon by tomorrow, were going back!
Got it, Aegon mumbled, his voice hoarse, as though his throat had been squeezed shut.
I cant hear you! The silver-haired mans tone grew sharper, impatiencecing his words.
Got it, Aegon repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
I said I cant hear you! You want to be a Dragon Knight, and you speak so quietly? The words seemed to provoke Aegon further, the mans frustration evident as his voice edged toward a breaking point.
I know!!! Aegon suddenly shouted, his eyes filling with tears.
The next morning, the group spotted a dragon drinking from a river littered with debris.
The creature was massive, its body spanning 25 to 26 meters, with scales the color of rust. Even from afar, the air was heavy with the scent of blood. Its glowing emerald eyes contrasted starkly with its menacing form.
Look, Aegon! Victorias voice rang out, trying to ease his tension. Your mount is red, and so is this dragon. Isnt that a sign from the gods? Go tame itwell watch your back!
Aegon stroked Ateys mane, his fingers trembling as ifmitting the touch to memory. Then, summoning every ounce of his courage, he began to approach the dragon.
Three hundred meters two hundred meters one hundred meters
The rust-red dragon noticed Aegon when he was still a hundred meters away. Its massive head turned toward him, and its glowing emerald eyes locked onto his small, solitary form.
Aegon froze, a wave of icy dread coursing through him. His limbs felt stiff, as though he were moving through a nightmare. He instinctively wanted to turn back, to call out to Chocolle for help. But he remembered the rule etched into his mind before they had set out: You cannot turn back. Turning back means failure.
Clenching his fists, Aegon forced his stiff legs to move forward, one step at a time.
Fifty meters. Thirty meters. Ten meters.
Thirty feet. Twenty feet. Ten feet.
As Aegon came within reach of the dragon, he could see his own reflection in its vivid green eyes. The image staring back at him was that of a boy with a slightly round face, framed by thick silver hair that obscured his forehead, ears, and neck.
The dragon studied him for a moment, then lowered its colossal head. Its sheer size became starkly clear as Aegon realized that the dragons head alone wasrger than Ateys entire body.
If it wanted to eat Atey, it would only take a few bites, Aegon thought, his stomach twisting in dread.
Suddenly, his mind was assaulted by a vivid image: Atey, his loyalpanion, being torn apart and devoured by this enormous beast.
No, no, no, I can''t think about that now!
Aegon pushed the horrifying image from his mind. He knew the next step was crucialhe had to make physical contact with the dragon. If the creature didnt reject his touch, hed already be halfway to taming it.
Holding his breath, Aegon slowly raised his arm. It felt impossibly heavy, as if weighed down by the pressure of the moment. Thest time hed felt this way was when hed been feverish as a child. Even so, he forced himself to extend his hand toward the massive, rust-red dragon.
As he edged closer, he could feel the beasts hot, sulfuric breath on his face. The heat was intense, the smell overpowering.
Come on, Aegon!!
Not far away, Chocolle alternated between her binocrs and her unaided eyes, worried she might miss something.
Suddenly, the dragon opened its massive mouth, releasing a wave of stench so foul it made Aegon gag. The smell hit him like a punch to the throat, making him want to double over. To steady himself, Aegon clenched his hidden hand into a fist, his nails digging so deeply into his palm that bright red blood began to seep out.
With his free hand, he reached forward and touched the dragons lips. The scales were hot to the touch, radiating a fierce warmth.
For a moment, the red dragon regarded the bashful boy before it. Then, slowly, it seemed to acknowledge him.
The group in the distance watched in stunned silence, their eyes fixed on the scene. Chocolle sped her delicate fingers together, her face tense with worry.
After a tense moment, Aegon withdrew his hand and walked carefully to the dragons side. Under the watchful eyes of hispanions, he climbed onto its back. The dragon didnt resist. Instead, it spread its rust-red wings wide andunched into the sky with a powerful thrust.
The wind rushed into Aegons cor and sleeves, cooling the cold sweat that had drenched him moments ago. Now, it felt like strands of icy relief.
He nced down at hispanions, many of whom had hesitated to ride their own dragons. Aegon waved exuberantly, inviting them to share in his triumph.
But his joy was fleeting. His gaze fell on Atey. The loyal horse was galloping below, its mane flowing like the tassels of a banner in the wind. Its neighing echoed up to Aegon, a bittersweet reminder of their bond.
Do I really have to let him eat Atey? he murmured.
Silvermanes voice cut through his thoughts, harsh and insistent. Aegon, youre already a Dragon Knight. Feed Atey to your dragon!
But why? Aegons voice cracked with emotion. We have pastures and fishing grounds! The dragon can eat cows, sheep, or fish. Why does it
have to be Atey?
If you dont offer your horse, the dragon will be unhappy!
If you let the dragon eat him, youll be able to stay together forever! another argued.
The group debated heatedly, but Aegon refused to waver. His determination only seemed to irritate Silvermane further.
If youre going to be this stubborn, Silvermane growled, then Ill handle it myself!
Without warning, Silvermanes dragon soared into the air and dove toward Atey.
No! Aegon shouted, realizing what was happening. He urged his dragon upward, desperate to intervene.
Theyre going to fight! Stop them! Victoria yelled, her voice sharp with rm.
But it was toote. The two dragons collided in midair, locking their powerful jaws together. The onlookers gasped in horror as the beasts thrashed and roared, their massive wings slicing through the sky.
Stop! Stop it! Stop fighting! Chocolle cried, her hands trembling as she clutched her chest.
Then, without warning, a glowing purple door appeared at their feet, pulsing with a strange, otherworldly light.
One by one, figures began emerging from the portal. They were of all agesmen, women, even children.
My god! So many dragons! eximed Ciri, her voice tinged with awe.
Geralt, Vesemir, and Yennefer followed close behind, their expressions a mix of astonishment and unease.
Viserys was among thest to step through. His face darkened as he looked up and saw the two dragons locked inbat above. His expression grew even grimmer as the scene unfolded. Since the deaths of his own yellow dragon and Danys silver dragon from old age, he had stationed the Gate of Realms in the Dragon Pasture to prepare for future travels. But he hadnt anticipated arriving to find his descendants fighting on dragonback.
Furyced his voice as he shouted toward the sky, Get down here!!!
Chapter 455, Side Story: The Mystery of Crossing Worlds
Chapter 455, Side Story: The Mystery of Crossing Worlds
The
Dance of the Dragons was a bitter chapter in Targaryen history, one the House sought to avoid repeating at any cost. The scars it left behind served as a grim reminder of what unchecked ambition and internal strife could bring. Dragons, with lifespans averaging nearly 200 years, should have ensured the Targaryens retained dominance over their domestic vassals for generations. Even if no new healthy dragons were born, the sheer longevity of existing ones could have maintained their supremacy until Aeryss time.
But ambition and intrigue, epitomized by the Bloodraven and the Game of Thrones, undermined that potential. Tobat such dangers, Viserys had overseen the creation of a special
royal textbook. This volume graphically chronicled the devastation wrought by the Bloodraven Dance, a civil war fueled by dragon battles. Its goal was clear: to prevent future fratricide at all costs.
Harsh rules apanied this education. Anyone provoking a dragon battle would forfeit their inheritance and even their Targaryen name. Over the past 400 years, there had been only a handful of dragon-rted deaths within the House, all involving individuals who were eitherwbreakers or had sumbed to madness. No Targaryen dared use dragons for coups, especially with the stabilizing influence of Viserys and Daenerys, whose legacies loomed over the empire like two immovable bast stones.
In these 400 years, the empire had seen just a few dozen wars. For many, weapons were artifacts of history, irrelevant to their peaceful lives. During the Dance of the Dragons, the family could muster only about 20 adult dragons. Now, over a thousand thriveda testament to their resurgence.
Yet here, Viserys stood, facing the aftermath of a dragon fight sparked over something as trivial as a horse.
The curly-haired instigator, knelt beside Aegon before Viserys. Both boys looked thoroughly chastened, their heads bowed in shame. The rest of the group stood frozen around them, too fearful to speak, resembling frightened quail.
Victoria and Chocolle, known for their quick thinking and eloquence, tried to exin the situation, hoping to cate Viserys. Yet, even Victoria found herself faltering under his stern gaze.
The young Targaryens had immediately recognized Viserys and Daenerys. The confirmation was undeniable: all the newly tamed dragons crouched submissively at the feet of these two ancient figures. Even the proudest dragons, who had previously obeyed no one, now sat in perfect order, their heads lowered, as if acknowledging their true masters.
This scene evoked a legend whispered among the younger generationsthat after the dragons had gone extinct, it was Viserys and Daenerys who had brought them back to life through fire and blood. Danys essence and Viseryss flesh had birthed the original dragons, and the current dragons were all descendants of those first reborn creatures. This connection exined the dragons'' instinctive obedience to Viserys and Dany, bypassing any need for training.
As for why two figures who had been dead for over 300 years stood before them, youthful andmanding, it was a mystery the young Targaryens dared not question.
Who passed down this
bullshit custom? Viseryss voice was cold and sharp.
He swallowed hard, his Adams apple bobbing nervously. Your Grace, it was Viserys the Second.
Him again, Viserys muttered under his breath, frustration flickering in his eyes.
In their early years, Viserys and Daenerys had chosen to sleep for over a century after the deaths of their loved ones, hoping to awaken in a world unburdened by familiar faces and sorrows. When they finally emerged, they discovered a changed empire shaped by the ambitious reign of Viserys the Second, the fourth emperor of New Valyria.
Viserys the Second had been a visionarythough not without ws. He had embarked on grand projects, built monumental structures, and expanded the empire through wars. Under his rule, vers Bay and Qarth were conquered after centuries of defiance. But he had also established customs like this one, which Viserys now found absurd and infuriating.
It was clear to Viserys that reprimanding these younglings wouldnt resolve the issue. To address the matter, he would have to consult the current Her Grace, the reigning Targaryen monarch.
After delivering a curt but scathing lecture to the group, Viserys turned to Geralt and the others. Together, they prepared to journey to Valyria.
The matter of transportation posed no difficulty. Selecting their mounts from the dragon pasture, Viserys and Geralt each chose a massive dragon, over 100 meters long, to carry them to the capital of Valyria.
As for Geralt and hispanions, they were transported to Valyria by Aegon and the other young Targaryens on dragonback. Although they had suspected from the start that Viserys and Daenerys were extraordinary, they never imagined the two were the founders of a vast empire.
Geralt had encountered many nobles and kings throughout his life, and he knew that those in high positions often carried themselves with an air of condescension. Yet, Viserys and Danysposure and generosityespecially in their willingness to assist Cirileft Geralt impressed.
Keeping their return discreet, Viserys and Dany avoided fanfare and requested a direct audience with the reigning empress, Catherine I Targaryen.
The moment Catherineid eyes on the pair, she recognized them as the genuine article. There was no mistaking the founders of the empire.
Catherine, no longer the twelve-year-old girl who had ascended to the throne, had grown into a capable and confident ruler over the past two decades. Her demeanor and poise even reminded some of Daenerys herself.
Your Grace, were not here for anything major, Viserys said with an easy smile. We simply need ess to the gicboratory.
Your Graces can rest assured, Ill make the necessary arrangements, Catherine replied.
Soon after, the group arrived at the Royal Centre for Magical Research, a facility at the heart of Valyrian innovation.
The Targaryen dynasty had made remarkable strides in the realm of magic. The royal family nowmanded over 30,000 Warlocks, and their research had restored nearly 80% of Valyrias magical prowess during its height. Optimistic projections suggested that within fifty years, the empire would fully reim its former glory.
But the empires ambitions extended far beyond this milestone.
A robust civilian education system, coupled with an efficient Warlock training program, ensured that the world of
A Song of Ice and Fire would continue its trajectory toward greater magical potency. Even Yennefer, ustomed to the arcane mysteries of her own world, noticed the dramatic concentration of magic here.
Dragons soared in extraordinary numbers, and the ambient magical energy was steadily increasing. Yennefer marveled at the abundance of power, remarking silently that it was far superior to her homnd. She had even witnessed the miraculous healing of Ciri, whose scar hadpletely vanisheda testament to the worlds elevated magical state.
Viserys, too, was pleased with the progress. After four centuries of effort, the world had transitioned from a low magic state to a flourishing moderate magic environment.
Technological advancements paralleled these magical achievements. Steam engines had entered widespread use, catalyzing a wave of expansion. The empire had begunrge-scale development of the Essos continent. Gogossos, once known as the
City of the Wicked, had been transformed into a bustling base of operations.
Millions of immigrants ventured to the new continent, carving out farnd, building settlements, and establishing new homes. The discovery of unique flora and fauna on this continent further enriched the fields of magical alchemy and enchanted sciences.
The conquest of the New World was not achieved by Dragonlords alone. While riders atop dragons offered critical support, it was the ordinary peoplebent over hoes and toiling in the soilwho turned wilderness into fertile farnd.
The empires growing dominance was bolstered by steam-powered warships, cannons, and other technological marvels. The momentum of expansion seemed unstoppable, with more than ten cities boasting poptions of hundreds of thousands sprouting around the Smoking Sea of Essos. Hundreds of smaller towns and viges dotted thendscape, adding to the empires reach.
Viserys assessed the empires trajectory with satisfaction. He predicted another five centuries of growth and a thousand years of prosperity.
As the descendants of the Targaryen dynasty and their advisors reveled in this golden age, they asionally paused to reflect. It was then they realized that the foundations of all they now enjoyed had beenid four hundred years ago by the vision and determination of their ancestors.
Lady Ciri, you just need to lie down on that hard bed, Empress Catherine said respectfully, gesturing to a stone b that gleamed like white jade.
Can I go first? Geralt interjected. Though he trusted Viserys and Danys intentions, this was still an unfamiliar world, and his protective instincts for Ciri were strong.
Catherine nced at Viserys and Dany for approval. She seemed indifferent to the order in which things proceeded, and after a nod from Viserys, Geralty down first.
The bed emitted a soft glow as it scanned him. After analyzing his physical characteristics and confirming that he remained unharmed, Catherine permitted Ciri to lie down next.
...
Three Hundred Years Later
After countless trials and refinements, Viserys and Dany, now masters of time and space, arrived at the battlefield from which Viserys had once been transmigrated.
A group of sellswords armed with advanced weaponry was entrenched in an abandoned city, holding back an enemy assault. From the safety of a nondescript ruined building miles away, Viserys and Dany observed the conflict through drone equipment.
I dont remember all the details, Viserys admitted, his voice tinged with nostalgia. But I recall my squad holding off the rebels. We were hit by a tactical nuclear bomb.
Dany, standing nearby, suddenly stiffened. A strange sensation pricked at her senses, as though she were being watched. She turned abruptly, her gaze locking onto a gray building not far from them.
Here ites! Viseryss voice cut through her thoughts, jolting her focus back to the sky.
The two looked up together and saw ita fiery projectile streaking across the pale expanse, trailing white smoke. It was unmistakably a nuclear warhead, plunging toward the position where Viserys had once stood.
But then, something unexpected happened. A missile appeared seemingly out of nowhere, streaking toward the falling warhead. The two projectiles collided midair, detonating the nuclear bomb far above the ground.
The explosion lit up the sky like a second sun. For a fleeting moment, the brilliance of the st eclipsed the original sun, bathing the world in a searing, white light.
The shockwave rolled out in all directions, scorching and leveling everything in its path. Even from a distance, Dany staggered under its oppressive force, awestruck by the raw power of the weapon.
Whats going on? Viserys murmured, confusioncing his voice. He clearly remembered the nuclear bomb detonating near the ground during the original event. The st had wiped out his entire teamnearly every one of them. Yet now, the missiles interception had prevented the full force of the weapon from reaching the ground.
This meant something extraordinary: many of hisrades, who should have perished, likely survived.
And if they had survived, then he
Brother! You!
Danys panicked cry shattered his train of thought.
Viserys looked down at himself, and a cold realization struck. His body was beginning to disintegrate. Bits of him ked away like weathered stone, shimmering faintly as they turned into a dust-like substance and floated into the air.
Brother! Brother! Dany screamed, her voice rising with desperation.
She rushed toward him, reaching out in a futile attempt to catch the fragments. Her hands cupped the glittering dust, trying to hold it together, trying to reverse what was happening. But no matter how hard she tried, the disintegration elerated.
No! No! No!
Danys anguished cries echoed through the space as she reached out futilely for the fragments of her brother. Almost a thousand years together had forged an unbreakable bond between them, a bond that was now unraveling before her eyes. A millennium was enough time for them to be integral parts of each others existence, and the thought of losing Viserys was unbearable.
She felt a wave of helplessness crash over her, an overwhelming sensation that transported her back to the dark days in Braavos, where Viserys had drowned himself in drink, leaving her to fend for both of them. But this time, she couldnt let despair win.
A sudden realization struck her like lightning: this was her fault. She had caused this.
Dany raised her hand, her will bending the space around her. The environment warped and stretched as if made of rubber, the walls elongating unnaturally. Time rewound, pulling her back three minutes before the nuclear bomb was intercepted in the sky.
No, that thing is just too fastI cant stop it.
Her mind raced. The silo! Thats it!
Each attempt took her back through the same cycle. She searched frantically, using each reset to gather more information, until she finally pinpointed the location of the interceptor missilesunch.
The silo was heavily guarded. Dany tried once, twice, five timesshe lost count. No matter how many attempts she made, each failure left her more determined. On what felt like her hundredth try, she finally seeded in destroying the silo.
This is the ce, she murmured, ncing at her watch. From her vantage point in an abandoned building, she could see the green structure where Viserys stood, just a few hundred meters away.
Momentster, a man and a woman materialized in the room where Viserys and Dany had been watching the battle unfold. They carried advanced equipment, scanning the battlefield as if preparing for the events that were about to unfold.
But this time, the nuclear bomb still detonated overhead.
Brother! Brother!
Inside the green building, Dany reached out again, desperately trying to catch the dust spiraling upward as Viserys disintegrated. Her heart sank. She had failed.
It seems... there was more than oneunch, she whispered bitterly.
After an unknown number of resets, Dany found herself once again in the gray building. Her gaze darted anxiously between the nuclear bomb in the sky and the iing interceptor missile.
Iming, Iming, Viseryss came from the green building.
But her worst fears materialized. The interceptor missile, though perfectly aimed, arrived toote. The nuclear bomb reached its target first, detonating with a blinding sh.
A gray-white mushroom cloud billowed upward, obliterating everything in its path. The shockwave ttened the surrounding area, reducing it to a wastnd. When the chaos subsided, Dany looked toward the green building.
It was empty. Both Viserys and her past self had vanished without a trace.
She let out a shuddering breath, a mix of relief and despair. The immediate crisis seemed over, but a single thought consumed her:
Wheres my Viserys?
She stood frozen, her mind reeling from the emptiness left behind. She had done everything she could, tried every possible solution, but the results remained the same. The agony of failure cut deeper with every moment that passed.
Then, suddenly, she felt somethinga familiar sensation. Her entire body was lifted off the ground, enveloped in a touch she knew better than her own skin. Warmth radiated from behind her, and tears streamed down her face as she recognized it.
Author’s Note: Reflections on Completing My GoT Fanfic
Authors Note: Reflections on Completing My GoT Fanfic
Author''s Note: Reflections on Completing My GoT Fanfic
I figured everyone writes one of these, so its sort of a tradition for finishing a book. I thought Id write one too, to give this story a proper ending.
First of all, thanks to everyone who even subscribed to the side stories.
For me, earning money from writing is nothing to be ashamed of. But honestly, the side stories dont have the same level of narrative depth as the main storyline, so the fact that some of you were still willing to subscribe really moved me.
By thetter half of the book, I felt my writing skills falling short. It was like trying to bench-press 100 when my limit was only 50it was exhausting. I started noticing this struggle around the time I was writing about Khal Drogo. The buildup and transitions in the plot felt clunky, and my prose was rough in ces.
The hardest part was failing to convey that sense of fate. One reader described my protagonist as recklessly toying with destiny, thanks to their overwhelming power. Thats spot on!
At one point, I even had this hellish idea for a new fanfic: a spinoff where "Dragon Second Brother" (a reference to Viserys) wakes up after being doused in molten gold. He finds himself abandoned in the wilderness, his face ruined, and his sister already imed by Khal Drogo. But no matter how much I racked my brain, I couldnt figure out how to turn the story around, so I scrapped the idea.
My personal favorite part was when the protagonist brought a dragon to taunt Robert Baratheon. Those chapters really stand out to me. But looking back, there are still plenty of ces that didnt turn out as well as Id hoped. Ultimately, it boils down to ack of skill and a poor grasp of whats most important. Its like being a chef who doesnt know what their customers like to eat.
Whenever readers ask me about my next project, I honestly feel embarrassed. Thats why Ive been too shy to create a reader groupit feels like something only top-tier authors deserve.
A few days ago, I asked my editor if there were any popr genres I should try. I told them I wanted to write an original story for my next book. They gave me a practical suggestion, so my next project will still be fanfictionbut not Game of Thrones.
Im thinking of writing a story about a Muggle entering Hogwarts. Of course, this isnt necessarily a good idea. For an average writer like me, if there arent many simr books in the market, its probably better not to risk it. Theres a high chance it wont even get picked up for publication.
Still, I feel really passionate about this idea right now, so well see how it goes. I n to reread the original books and rewatch the movies a few times before diving in.
I actually started a Harry Potter fanfic before (which I dropped after 100k words), but because I wasnt familiar enough with the original storyline, readers constantly called me out with references to the canon. That gave me a bit of PTSD.
If my next book does well, Ill definitely create a reader group. I think itd be really fun to discuss plot points with everyone.
This book ended up being 1.12 million words. For my next one, Im aiming for 2.24 million!
Special Thanks:
- (Forever Love Hermione): Youve been my #1 supporter for most of this journey. If you follow my next book, Ill dedicate five bonus chapters to you!
- (Youre Truly Amazing): You get three bonus chapters.
- ޱ͵ (Everybody): You get two bonus chapters.
- For everyone else in the top 10 fan rankings, youll each get one bonus chapter as well.
I love writing.
The End.
Translator’s Note
Trantors Note
Hi, everyone! Hows it going?
First of all, I want to sincerely thank everyone who followed the story this far! Second, Id like to share some thoughts about the ending and my impressions.
I believe the author originally intended to write an epic final battle, which would have been ideal. However, from his note, its clear he was already feeling a bit burned out and decided to wrap things up more quickly.
The extra chapters were interesting, but ultimately, theyre just bonus content. While enjoyable, they dont quite rece the satisfaction of a truly epic ending.
I can rte to what the author felt because I experience the story as I trante it. I try to make sense of things, create a cohesive glossary, and refine the vocabry with the tools I have. Honestly, this approach helps me do my bestI entertain myself while tranting. That said, I have to admit I felt a bit disconnected from the story midway through. Even so, I noticed that many people kept enjoying and engaging with it, which motivated me to keep going.
From my experience, fanfics often start strong but tend to end either abruptly or without a conclusion. This can be due to the difficulty of tranting all chapters within a reasonable timeframe, or because the fic was dropped by the author. Still, I think endings are important for closing the cycle. Thats why I pushed myself to finish this trantion and share the conclusion with all of you.
For now, thats all! Ive talked enough already. I just want to thank you all again for your support during this time. Ill keep reading and bringing new fanfics to share here. Feel free to rmend other stories that dont have active trantions, havent been abandoned, and that you consider worthwhile. Who knows? I might get interested and trante one of them! Wishing you all a wonderful end of the year!
P.S.: Do you like Harry Potter? If so, feel free to check out my trantion of the novel
Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model. This is my third trantion, and I believe Ive corrected many of the mistakes I made in my earlier works.
Chapter 458: Not a Chapter
Chapter 458: Not a Chapter
Hello everyone, how are you? This is the new GOT fanfic I decided to trante, and I hope you like it. Since there are 60 chapters already released in other trantions around here, I''ll make all the chapters public until we reach the 60-chapter mark. As for a release schedule, I''m not entirely sure yet, but I''ll try to release at least 2 chapters per day. However, since I''ve just started this trantion, I can''t guarantee that with absolute certainty. Thank you for your attention.
This it the fanfic:
Name: Game of Thrones: Knight''s Honor
Original Name: Ȩ֮ʿҫ
Author: Jiuchengjun
Original Author''s Name: ųǾ
The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and
continue reading tomorrow, everyone!