Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen
Chapter 145: The Smoking Sea of Valyria

Chapter 145: The Smoking Sea of Valyria

Now that he had decided to put on a show, Viserys intended to savor it. He took his time observing the situation on his side. After a while, it appeared that Euron had returned to the sea. The sails fluttered above his head, and the sounds of seagulls and waves filled his ears.

Viserys turned his gaze and was immediately captivated by a massive black and gray screen that seemed to cover the sky. It resembled a towering wall of clouds or a colossal pillar holding up the heavens. But on closer inspection, it was neither a wall nor a pillar—it was a swirling sea of clouds. This was part of the ruins of Valyria's end—the Smoking Sea.

Legend had it that the Smoking Sea was once land, but in the cataclysmic end of days when the heavens and earth were shattered, it became an ocean. Or perhaps the land had been swallowed by the sea.

Boom!

The boundless sea seemed to let out a sigh, and the low, powerful vibrations shook the waters around the Smoking Sea. Black smoke rose from the depths, spreading its outline in the black and gray mist before slowly blending into it.

'What is Euron doing in the Smoking Sea? Could he really be planning to go in?' Viserys wondered. Given Euron's callous disregard for human life, this wasn't beyond reason. But after checking the direction the ship was heading, Viserys realized that the man wasn't quite as mad as he appeared. Euron seemed to be sailing south of the Smoking Sea, likely taking the conventional route to Valyria.

Euron continued his course, and Viserys ended his Dragon Dreams, taking the opportunity to rest.

...

A day later, Viserys lay on a wooden bed in an elegant room. At his bedside, Arianne, Tyene, and Sarella sat in a row, quietly discussing his handsome but pale face.

“Look at his arms, they’re almost as thick as my legs,” Tyene remarked, cupping her thigh with her hand before gesturing toward Viserys’ arm. Her slender palm brushed his skin, making Lys feel a bit ticklish.

“Of course, he’s the champion of the tournament. How could he not have strong arms?” Arianne commented, thinking of her great uncle, Lewyn, who had died in battle.

He had been a Kingsguard, a skilled fighter with formidable strength. Arianne gazed at Viserys' face as if admiring it. The boy, who was the same age as her, seemed unexpectedly remarkable. There was nothing wrong with the idea of marrying him.

“Look at his chest, it’s so broad,” Tyene said, poking Viserys’s pectoral muscles. “Hey, it’s so firm!”

“Tsk, you’re being too rough. Don’t wake him up!” Arianne warned, though she also felt the temptation to touch him but was afraid of disturbing his rest.

“Sarella, feel his belly—it’s so solid!” Tyene urged, reaching under the blanket covering Viserys.

'Damn it! Taking advantage of me!' Viserys thought, realizing it was time to 'wake up.'

Seeing Tyene's hand moving lower, Arianne gave her a hard slap on the arm.

“Ouch!” Tyene yelped, looking at Arianne. “What was that for?”

“He’s like this, what are you trying to do?”

“I just wanted to count how many abs he has. What else could I be doing?”

"You..." Arianne realized she had misunderstood and quickly said, "That’s not okay either! What if you wake him up? He just recovered from healing father!"

“Cut it out, it won’t happen,” Tyene insisted, pointing at Viserys’ pale face. “Look at him—no matter how much you touch him, he won’t react!”

'Damn, who do you think you are?' Viserys fumed inwardly.

Viserys had actually regained consciousness, but the blood magic had taken a toll on him, much like it had with Dany. Though he was awake, he couldn’t control his body for a while. When he heard someone challenging him, his spirit immediately stirred.

“Cough...” Viserys managed to produce a few unintelligible sounds from his throat, which silenced the two who had been playing around.

“Quiet!” the little black girl on the side commanded, halting their antics.

“Water...” Viserys mumbled, not sure what else to ask for, so he defaulted to the most common request of a patient just waking up.

“Hurry! Get some water!” Tyene quickly fetched a golden brass kettle, while Arianne held Viserys in her arms. The little black girl, Sarella, fed him water, bit by bit. Feeling the soft warmth behind him, Viserys couldn’t help but feel satisfied. 'This is what I deserve!' he thought.

“Wow, he’s drinking a lot!” Tyene exclaimed.

Viserys wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep. He hadn’t felt particularly thirsty at first, but once he started drinking, he couldn’t stop. After downing two jugs of water, he finally felt full and noticeably better. The scent of the maidens lingered in his nostrils as he glanced around, noting that black, white, and brown were all present.

“Princess, have you been taking care of me all this time? Thank you so much!” he said.

“No, I should be the one thanking you,” Arianne responded. She was no longer the same person who had once rejected Viserys’ marriage proposal. Instead, she appreciated his straightforwardness. Since he had once believed that the gap between his strength and that of House Martell was too wide for a marriage alliance, she was willing to wait until he felt the balance of power was more even. Besides, when had the daughters of House Martell ever been so conservative? Once Viserys recovered, a brief encounter was hardly something to be ashamed of.

As for Viserys, he noticed a different look in Arianne’s eyes—completely unlike the provocative attitude she had shown at the beginning. However, this shift didn’t change his feelings toward her. He knew that Dany, who was across the Narrow Sea and relied on him, was still concerned about him. When the time was right, certain matters needed to be addressed. Since Arianne seemed to value Dorne’s succession and control above all else, perhaps she could be guided in that direction. This way, he could secure Dorne’s support without needing an alliance.

“I’ll go get my father,” the little black girl, who had spoken little until now, said before leaving the room.

“How long have I been asleep?” Viserys asked.

“Two days and nights,” Arianne replied, her tone and demeanor much gentler.

Viserys glanced out the window and saw that it was morning. “Two days and nights... I suppose Regis and the others must be worried,” he murmured, then fell silent.

A short while later, the Red Viper and Prince Doran arrived in Viserys' room.

“No, no! You just stay where you are,” Prince Doran insisted, stepping forward to stop Viserys from getting up. He sat beside the bed, looking at Viserys with the fondness of an elder admiring a promising young man, despite the fact that they were contemporaries. Although Viserys was not yet eighteen, Prince Doran was nearing fifty.

Thanks to Viserys’ treatment, Doran now felt no pain at all. He could even get up and walk—something he hadn’t been able to do for nearly two or three years. His gratitude toward Viserys was profound. When he had been ill, Viserys had accurately described his symptoms. It had indeed felt as though someone was stepping on his eyeballs and pouring sand into his bones. As Viserys had said, death would have been a relief.

“You must have paid a great price to cure my illness,” Doran remarked, noticing the grateful expressions on everyone’s faces.

Viserys sighed, looking at them with a touch of helplessness. “I’m sorry, Prince Doran, but I haven’t truly cured your illness.”

“Huh? Not cured?” Everyone turned to look at Doran, who now walked like a healthy man and appeared full of energy. He had even eaten a large meal of fish and shrimp the previous day.

Viserys then explained how the so-called “treatment” worked. “In other words, it’s as if you’ve been struck by an arrow, and that arrow remains lodged in your bones. I’ve only treated the wound caused by the arrow, but the pain will eventually return.”

Doran’s heart sank at the thought of the pain returning. He couldn’t bear the idea of suffering that torment again.

“Is there no other way?” Arianne asked, her voice filled with concern.

“The blood magic I cast should last for one to two years,” Viserys replied. “During that time, the Prince must avoid eating anything from the sea, increase your intake of vegetables, and drink plenty of water.”

“Really?” Doran muttered, recalling with regret the large bowl of seafood he had eaten the day before.

“Also, avoid strenuous exercise. Remember, the ‘sand’ is still lodged in your joints,” Viserys added.

“Yes, I understand,” Doran responded.

A heavy silence fell over the room. Even if the blood magic lasted two years, what would happen after that? Would Viserys be willing—or even able—to perform it again? No one dared to voice the question. Viserys hadn’t revealed the true cost of the magic, leaving them only to speculate.

“Can blood magic be performed using someone else’s blood?” the Red Viper asked. It had to be him—no one else would have thought to ask so directly.

“Blood magic relies on consuming the caster’s vitality,” Viserys explained. “In other words, I am consuming my own life.”

His words hung in the air, and he then thought, 'If your health reaches zero, you die. But I can use the system to replenish it.'

“Consuming life?!” Arianne exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock. The Red Viper and Doran exchanged uneasy glances.

This explanation made sense to them. From Doran’s perspective, Viserys had alleviated his pain for two years, which must have cost the young prince at least five years of his own life. Such a sacrifice was a profound gesture of sincerity.

Viserys, however, waved his hand, downplaying the severity of it all. Yet, his movements and expression subtly hinted at the toll the magic had taken on him. 'Shouldn't the Martells show some sincerity in return?' Viserys mused inwardly, then continued, “That’s why the caster must be willing. Ordinary people don’t possess enough ‘life energy’ in their blood. Not only would the effect be weak, but it could also harm the recipient—making it not worth the risk.”

...

The room fell silent once more. Doran had already accepted his fate. At the very least, he had escaped two years of hell, which was a gift from the heavens in his eyes. To hope for anything more would be greedy. If the pain returned after two years, he would simply have to give more and pay more.

However, Viserys’ next words had kindled a new spark of hope in him.