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 sickly complexion, 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 accompanying her treated her with a reverence bordering on worship.
Although they had arranged enough chairs for the group, the four companions 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.
"I'm 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 collapse. Almost all of its members had contracted grayscale. The few who had come today were among the last healthy members of the family.
At Viserys's 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 remarkable—fluid and without a trace of resistance. Such composure 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 couldn't help but scorn Lorarys's 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 Lorarys's neck, exposing a swath of rough, gray-green skin—clear evidence of her own infection with grayscale.
Lorarys had hidden it well, like any woman mindful of her appearance. But the truth was now plain for all to see.
The four individuals standing behind Lorarys moved instinctively to defend her. Despite their youth, their anger was palpable, flashing vividly in their purple eyes.
Viserys hurried forward to ensure Valsha wouldn't come to harm, but Lorarys swiftly raised a hand to stop her companions.
"Why should I save you?" Valsha asked coldly, her voice sharp with disdain.
Lorarys's 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 Valsha's 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 Lorarys's life now seemed less satisfying.
"Of course, I will kill you!" Valsha declared, 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 placed 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 Wyrm—a genetic hybrid of a Firewyrm and some other flying creature. She then detailed all she knew of Princess Aerea's fate.
When Aerea arrived at the Doom Ruins astride her dragon, the Black Death—an enormous beast over 100 meters long—she immediately drew the attention of the House of Sennesta. After an emergency landing following an attack, the Sennesta demanded she leave the Black 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 elaborating further; the grim details needed no explanation. Aerea eventually fled on the Black Death, but she was gravely weakened. Worse still, the dragon's 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 Black Death being hundreds of meters long, you can imagine how intense the heat was," Lorarys explained.
For now, Viserys believed her. Tyria was now under his control, so verifying her account 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 you—please, save my family."
It was clear this information had come 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 occupy the body of a Dragonlord!'
'But you've 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 Valsha's 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.