Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 430: The Giant Gates of Tyria

The people of Volantis 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 danger—betrayal 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 now largely come 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 wasn’t 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 strange landscape 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 glow—far 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 Flames. Yet when Euron had ventured to Valyria’s outskirts, the sky had appeared normal.

“Could it be… magic?” he wondered, his instincts sharpening.

Steering his dragon closer to Hali, he gave a terse command.

“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. Dany’s 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 Monterys’s heritage complicated matters. As the son of Montford Velaryon, who had died as a loyalist beside Melisandre’s sacrificial altar, Monterys was the last scion of House Velaryon. 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 wasn’t merely about exploration—it was perilous beyond measure. The North needed settlers, yes, but Valyria was something far darker.

The memory of Princess Aerea loomed large in Viserys’s thoughts. Aerea had ridden the Black Dread, a dragon over 100 meters long, into Valyria—yet 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 glanced out over the endless expanse of the Smoking Sea. Beneath its choking fumes lay the Fourteen Flames, where the Valyrians had once exploited slaves to mine gold, red gold, and countless other treasures.

Yet Viserys suspected the mines held more than riches. Perhaps they concealed secret laboratories or forbidden experiments.

The Valyrians claimed to have discovered dragons in the mines of the Fourteen Flames. But Viserys believed otherwise—they had created dragons there. Through manipulation 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 thought—and 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 world’s largest 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 the landscape 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 particular caught his attention: a massive circular stone gate shaped like a dragon swallowing its own tail.

The gate’s 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 collapsing under its own weight, suggesting an extraordinary level of craftsmanship and strength.

Riding the Yellow Dragon, he descended toward the circular gate. Volcanic ash billowed as the dragon landed, 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 dragon’s arch to examine the structure more closely. The craftsmanship was impeccable, and despite its age, the circular dragon gate was in remarkably good condition.

Looking around, Viserys realized the gate was part of a bridge—a hundred meters high and a hundred meters long—that provided a sweeping view of Tyria.

Unlike the ruins near the Fourteen Flames, 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 palace light.

The desolation gave the city an otherworldly, almost purgatorial atmosphere.

In the center of Tyria, a grand building drew Viserys’s attention. He couldn’t tell whether it was a palace or a temple, but its prominence made it the obvious place to investigate.

The Yellow Dragon spread its wings and glided down toward the towering structure, landing with practiced grace near its base. After a quick survey for signs of life, Viserys decided to proceed.

The building rested on a plateau, with a staircase of nearly 300 steps leading to its entrance. A wide avenue ran straight to the structure, flanked by clean, flat roads and fortress-like buildings that reminded Viserys of Dragonstone’s 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 him—seven or eight meters tall, as imposing as the gates of King’s Landing.

Surprisingly, the gate wasn’t 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 a layer of skulls. As Viserys stepped inside, the clothing on the skeletal remains disintegrated into dust, crumbling as if accelerated by his arrival. A field of bare white bones was left in their place.

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 slammed 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.