Viserys saw the ice and bone spear hurtling toward him, its form menacing in its sheer size—over 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 couldn't 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 exclaimed, 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 King's powerful but limited weapons—the Tracking Icebone Spear. Viserys noted with satisfaction that the Icebone Tower from which the spear had been launched had collapsed completely.
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 they landed, Viserys gave Ned Stark detailed instructions.
"The Wall's collapse has left key passes exposed. Fortify them in advance," Viserys commanded. "When Robb arrives, position defenses directly at these vulnerable points. I've stored plenty of explosive packs—don't 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 Sansa's pregnancy had filled him and Catelyn with joy, but the revelation 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 King's 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 King's 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 from complete, and the two dragonlords were tasked with helping guide the scattered remnants of Northern villagers. The three reunited at the Dreadfort, the seat of House Bolton, a place now honored by the simultaneous presence of three dragonlords.
Not all Northerners had joined the migration south. While Robb Stark's army continued its advance, some families had resolved to stay behind, defending their castles to the bitter end. Their sacrifice would buy precious time, delaying the Night King's inevitable march.
"Don't worry, Father, we'll 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 couldn't 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 leadership—rule 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 popularity could serve as a counterbalance to Willem in the future, should rivalries emerge.
Alas, I'm 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 King's 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 Viserys's reconstruction of King's 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 entrance—a surreal sight given the snow-covered streets of King's Landing.
Amid the chaos, Benerro stood beside Dany, explaining their latest 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 itself—such as inside this skull."
He gestured toward the massive skull.
"Through our experiments, we've 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?"
Dany's question was direct, her gaze sharp as it locked onto Benerro.
The red priest stroked his flame-shaped chin tattoo as he replied, "In the Valyrian texts we've 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 King's 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 planning and might come at an unthinkable cost.
As she mulled over the matter, her cupbearer, Lyman Darry, arrived with news. "Your Grace, King Viserys has returned to King's Landing."
Viserys didn't make a grand entrance into the Dragonpit. Instead, he approached Benerro quietly, his presence understated but commanding. 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, there's no guarantee you can create a magic weapon of equivalent power," Viserys said.
Benerro hesitated, the flame tattoo on his chin shifting slightly, but before he could respond, Viserys continued. "That's fine. This line of inquiry still represents our best hope. I will find a way to get you what you need."
Relief washed over Benerro's face. Viserys's pragmatic yet determined approach gave him confidence.
After confirming the Dragonpit's progress, Viserys left with Dany, returning to King's Landing.
...
"Reinforcements from the South have already set out," Dany reported as they walked. "They're 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 civilian laborers 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 placed a hand gently on Dany's slightly swollen abdomen. "How have you been feeling lately?"
Dany's cheeks flushed, a warm color rising to her ears. "I'm fine, there's no problem," she replied softly.
But as Viserys's 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, you're using blood magic again," she chided gently, placing her hand over his to stop him. "You don't need to do that."
Dany knew blood magic well—Melisandre had once explained 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 couldn't 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 claimed it didn't harm him.
"Don't 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, that's all that matters."
Dany studied him closely, looking for any hint of deception, but found none. Reluctantly, she accepted his explanation.
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?"