Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 439: Peace Talks?

Even for a parasite, this progression was alarmingly fast. The battle had lasted 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 a large, blackened pond nearby and directed his dragon to flap its wings, clearing away the layer of ash that blanketed the surface. Once the water was exposed, he carried Valsha to the pond and laid her in it.

Her pale skin had turned an angry red, and subtle movements were already visible beneath the skin near her wounds—a sickening sign of the parasites growing inside her.

Placing 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 flashed back to the haunting accounts of Princess Aerea. At her worst, her body temperature was described as so high that her eyeballs boiled in their sockets, and black smoke poured from her nose, mouth, and other orifices.

Valsha wasn’t 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 there’s 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!” exclaimed 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 speculation. 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 accompanying 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 injured—or even killed—while attempting to tame their dragons.

Even Nymerion, the family’s most ill-tempered black dragon, displayed 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 placed her hand on the dragon’s 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 placate 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. He’s given strict orders that no one is to disturb him.”

“What? Is Father hurt?” Hali’s tone turned anxious, her concern evident.

“No, no, Princess,” Eddard quickly assured her. “His Grace is fine.”

“Then what’s wrong with him?”

At that moment, Viserys was immersed in treating Valsha, aided by a group of warlocks. They had placed her in a large tub of magically cooled ice water to reduce her fever.

Before long, thread-like, transparent larvae began to emerge from her wounds. These grotesque parasites floated in the water, writhing like overgrown mosquito larvae. Their tails acted like coiled springs, propelling them in erratic, jerking movements.

Valsha’s body bore dozens of bite wounds, and the sheer number of larvae being forced out was horrifying. The surface of the water was soon teeming with the squirming creatures—a sight enough to make anyone’s 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 accompany 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 the larvae. He discovered that they entered a state of dormancy when exposed to the cold but revived when warmed. Alarmingly, they were also highly resistant to fire, capable of surviving direct exposure to flames 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, the large-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, there’s no indication that the Night King will continue his southward invasion,” Dany reported. “Benerro’s research on the Dragonbone Tower has been successful. It can fully counteract the effects of the Icebone Tower. With enough of them, we’ll be able to launch an offensive.”

“Excellent,” Viserys replied. “The second shipment of Dragonbones is on its way, but I’ll need to stay here for another six months to oversee things.”

Dany expressed disappointment at the delay. “The Sennestas haven’t reappeared?” she asked.

“Not recently,” Viserys said. “If they’re willing to submit, I might send someone to replace me. Once the Sennesta problem is resolved, the Doom will become far less dangerous. Monterys could easily manage it after that.”

Dany hesitated before mentioning something on her mind. “Speaking of him... he’s been spending a lot of time with Myrcella. I’ve sent her to Tyrosh.”

Viserys nodded in agreement. “It’s for the best. Myrcella isn’t worthy of the Velaryon name. She’s just a bastard, and a union between them would tarnish our family’s reputation.”

“I’ll arrange for him to marry someone from Oldtown, Highgarden, or Dorne,” Dany suggested. “He’s been managing the grain shipments to the south, so he’ll 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 resemblance 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 claiming 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. “I’ll 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?” Viserys’s voice rose in disbelief.