Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Several riders sat astride high horses, looking down at Viserys and Dany with a mix of curiosity and disdain. Their leader, a man clad in black and silver shoulder armor, had a tawny beard that jutted out from his cheeks like a steel brush. His expression betrayed a mixture of suspicion and unease as he studied the two strangers before him.

Viserys and Dany, newly arrived in this world, were clad in simple robes. Though the designs on their garments were sparse, the quality of the fabric was unmistakably luxurious. Even in their unadorned attire, an aura of authority radiated from them, unnerving the riders.

To the men, the pair's sudden appearance in the dense forest was as jarring as stumbling upon an ornate, gilded mirror in the heart of untamed wilderness.

The leader hesitated, weighing his options. He wondered if these silver-haired strangers might be nobles on some eccentric hunting expedition. Yet their striking hair and demeanor didn't match any noble lineage he recognized. Finally, with cautious authority, he spoke:

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Before Viserys or Dany could reply, one of the riders scoffed. "They're just Witchers dressed a little too finely," he sneered, his gaze lingering on Dany with unsettling boldness. He exaggeratedly swallowed, the sound of his gulping loud enough to draw attention.

Viserys's patience for such provocations had long since waned. After briefly assessing his surroundings, he realized his magic remained intact even in this unfamiliar world. Without a word, he raised his hand and pointed—a subtle, unassuming gesture.

The riders initially dismissed the motion as harmless, but their nonchalance evaporated as a scream of agony erupted from their ranks. The leader spun around to see one of his men convulsing violently, smoke pouring from his mouth, nose, and eyes. Faint orange flames flickered within the man's orifices before consuming him entirely.

Panic rippled through the group. The realization dawned quickly: this was no ordinary fire. The man was burning from the inside out.

The riders scrambled to flee, spurring their horses into desperate retreats. Yet one by one, each began to combust in the same horrific manner. Screams filled the air as the scent of charred flesh mingled with the acrid tang of burning leather.

Within moments, the clearing was littered with writhing, flaming bodies. Their agonized movements resembled insects doused in poison, twitching helplessly as the flames devoured them.

The leader, miraculously untouched, dismounted in a frenzy and threw himself to the ground before Viserys.

"Lord Sorcerer!" he cried, trembling. "What do you wish to know? I will tell you anything—everything!"

Viserys's lips curled in satisfaction. It was clear the man had a keen survival instinct, a trait that had likely helped him climb to a position of minor leadership among his peers.

With a wave of his hand, Viserys summoned a gust of wind that carried away the stench of burning flesh. The kneeling man, still trembling, began answering Viserys's questions, his desperation to stay alive overriding any hesitation.

Through this interrogation, Viserys confirmed his suspicions: they had indeed arrived in the world of The Witcher. The girl the riders had been hunting was named Ciri.

"Ciri?" Dany murmured, her confusion evident. The name tugged at her memory, evoking thoughts of the magical feats she had seen before. The Targaryens had once experimented with similar Valyrian magic, but they had sealed off the technique long ago after realizing its dangers.

Viserys corrected her pronunciation with mild amusement before kneeling to examine the unconscious girl.

Meanwhile, the man with the brown beard, who had hoped he was safe, suddenly felt a wave of darkness engulf him. When he awoke, his body moved not by his own will but as if strings controlled him. Faint blue light glowed at the corners of his eyes, signaling the change.

Viserys had used a spell to bind him into a lifeless puppet. After all, Viserys was no stranger to death—his experience made him an excellent judge of those who had blood on their hands. The man's body now served only as a tool.

Viserys placed the injured girl, Ciri, onto the horse. With Dany by his side, they prepared to leave.

"There are dragons in this world!" Viserys remarked as they rode. "And some can even take on human forms."

Dany was startled. "Dragons... that can turn into people?" She found the idea difficult to fathom. What would such a creature even look like?

The thought of dragons stirred bittersweet memories. More than a century ago, the Targaryens had lost their two most prized dragons—the Yellow Dragon and the Silver Dragon. The empire had honored them with an elaborate funeral, as over two-thirds of the living Targaryen dragons at the time were descendants of those six original dragons.

To blend into this unfamiliar world, Viserys and Dany changed into new attire and altered their appearances. Their once-striking silver hair was dyed a soft flaxen to avoid unwanted attention. Donning crowns looted from the bandits, they checked into a modest inn, hoping to keep a low profile.

Over a meal of foreign delicacies, the pair discussed their next steps, including the prospect of finding one of these dragons that could take human form.

As they talked, Ciri stirred. With a faint groan, she opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry at first, but it sharpened as she took in the sight of Viserys and Dany eating at a table nearby.

Questions flooded her mind. Who are these people? Where am I? And what happened to the Witchers who saved me earlier?

Her gaze lingered on Dany, captivated by her ethereal beauty. Even in Ciri's world, where enchantresses like Yennefer were famed for their allure, Dany's appearance seemed almost otherworldly. It was a beauty so perfect that it bordered on inhuman, leaving Ciri feeling self-conscious.

Then her eyes turned to Viserys. His striking handsomeness left her equally stunned. Even more so than Geralt, she thought. How could someone like this exist?

Instinctively, Ciri reached for the scar on her face but winced as pain shot through her body. She decided to stay still, only tilting her head slightly to observe them further. Her curiosity deepened when she noticed their unusual purple eyes.

"They're Witchers too," Ciri thought, recalling Yennefer's violet gaze. The realization fascinated her.

"Don't peek—I know you're awake," Viserys said suddenly, glancing at her with a smile as he finished his meal.

Caught off guard, Ciri felt a flush of embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice soft. "Master, where are the two Witchers who saved me earlier? Have you seen them?"

In her haste to escape earlier, she hadn't paid attention to her rescuers' appearances. She assumed their silver hair marked them as Witchers and hoped they could offer her help.

Viserys and Dany exchanged a glance before casually revealing their true silver hair, shedding their disguises.

Viserys chose not to overwhelm Ciri with his knowledge of her abilities or her past. Instead, he let her lead the conversation, knowing it was better to build trust than to appear omniscient.

Under his gentle prompting, Ciri explained her purpose: she was heading to Kaer Morhen, a place she considered her home.

Viserys listened intently, recognizing that Ciri had not yet awakened her full potential—particularly her extraordinary ability to traverse time and space. If he could help her unlock and harness that power, it could become a critical asset for his and Dany's journey across worlds.

With this in mind, he made a proposition to join them on a journey to Valyria.

"Of course, we will never force you. We can accompany you to Kaer Morhen first, and if we obtain the consent of Geralt or Yennefer—or both—you can make your own choice."

Viserys made the conditions notably lenient.

Although she wasn't sure how the two had managed to elude their pursuers, her intuition told her that Viserys and Dany were not malicious. After some discussion, they agreed that the pair would accompany her to Kaer Morhen.

In this world, there were no tools for long-distance communication, and Viserys was only vaguely familiar with the plot of the Witcher. Still, there was no doubt that someone would be at Kaer Morhen. Changing his hair color to blend in better with the locals, Viserys, with the help of sufficient funds, ensured the three of them quickly approached the Wolf School's stronghold.

Along the way, Dany frequently voiced her displeasure to Viserys about this world.

Kingdoms were in constant conflict, lords vied for power, mercenaries thrived unchecked, and monsters lurked everywhere.

In Dany's eyes, it would take at least two centuries to bring order to such chaos. Having governed an empire for over thirty years, she had long developed a deep disdain for disorder. Her aversion to the fractured social structure stemmed, in no small part, from Viserys's own influence. Both despised ambition that led to division and the mercenaries who profited from it.

As they drew closer to Kaer Morhen, Ciri's excitement grew palpable. When they finally reached the Blue Mountains, the scarred young woman couldn't help but let out a cheer. Upon arriving at the crumbling castle at the mountain's summit, her emotions overwhelmed her.

"Vesemir! Old man! Old man, I'm back!!!"

The moment Ciri entered the worn-down stronghold, she could barely contain her elation, her voice echoing through the halls.

A middle-aged man with a robust frame but unmistakable signs of age on his face emerged hurriedly at her call. His lips trembled as he uttered, "Ciri..."

He was on the verge of embracing her when his gaze fell on Viserys and Dany standing behind her. He paused, suppressing his emotions.

Sensing Vesemir's hesitation, Ciri quickly explained the presence of her companions. She didn't know their true identities but reassured the old Witcher that, though intrigued by her abilities, they harbored no ill intent. After hearing her account, Vesemir accepted her words cautiously. A man who had lived for centuries couldn't rely solely on the testimony of a young girl, but he invited the pair into the castle with respectful wariness.

Doing his utmost, the old Witcher prepared a modest but thoughtful meal for his guests.

"I don't know where Yennefer and Geralt are at the moment," Vesemir explained. "They're both searching for Ciri. Geralt will likely return when winter sets in, but Yennefer... She's harder to track. Perhaps the witches at the coven know her whereabouts, but I've no way to contact them."

Viserys was not the sort to sit idly by and wait. He preferred to act decisively. Whether dealing with the Horselords or Robert, he believed passivity invited chaos and unpredictability.

The root of this world's turmoil lay with the empire of Nilfgaard, whose expansion was utterly devoid of justice. Determined to disrupt their power at its source, Viserys decided to assassinate their emperor and use the event as a tool of propaganda—a move certain to draw the attention of Geralt and Yennefer.

Without delay, Viserys recorded Kaer Morhen's coordinates into his Gate of Realms. Then, wasting no time, he and Dany departed for the Nilfgaardian capital.

Compared to Valyria, Nilfgaard held little to impress. Its differences were largely superficial, with minor variations in architectural style.

Under cover of night, the two didn't even bother entering openly. Using invisibility magic, they easily infiltrated the palace.

This White Flame who dances on the graves of his enemies was receiving reports from his subordinates about the front-line battles, detailing the power dynamics of the region and the military deployments of every faction.

The emperor's eyes lit up suddenly, as though he were about to speak. But then his expression shifted. He coughed—a harsh, guttural sound—before tasting blood in his mouth. His hand instinctively reached for his neck, only to find his fingers slick with crimson.

...

"I can't say anything definitive about this; it all depends on what Ciri wants," Yennefer said, her voice calm but firm. Dressed in her signature black and white attire, she carried the subtle scent of currants. Her hand rested protectively on Ciri's shoulder, a silent anchor.

Despite her words, Yennefer's gaze repeatedly shifted to Geralt, as though willing him to voice an opinion aligned with hers. But Geralt remained silent, his golden eyes shadowed with worry. His mind was preoccupied, weighing the implications of Ciri journeying to another world.

"Can I go?" Geralt finally asked, his tone measured but resolute as he looked directly at Viserys. While it was phrased as a question, it lacked any true deference, leaving no doubt that Geralt would not compromise on having a "guardian" accompany Ciri. His wariness of Viserys and Dany's immense power was evident, but so was his determination.

For someone like Geralt to question an emperor, in a world where neither Witcher nor sorceress held ultimate authority, was a bold move. Witchers were often treated as outcasts, hunted or vilified, while even sorceresses were bound to serve the whims of worldly powers.

"Yes!" Viserys answered without hesitation, his response firm and unyielding.

In Viserys's view, moving Kaer Morhen entirely to a safer place was a perfectly acceptable solution. His confidence startled Yennefer, who raised an eyebrow at his willingness to offer such generous terms. While she wasn't one to accept aid lightly—especially from strangers—Viserys was no savage warlord from beyond the Wall. He spoke and acted with authority and logic, which made his proposal difficult to refuse.

Vesemir, on the other hand, was pragmatic. With age weighing heavily on him, he was simply relieved that Ciri might have a chance at a better life. With Geralt and Yennefer by her side, he trusted that Ciri's future would be safeguarded, no matter what.

At Kaer Morhen's training grounds, Viserys unveiled his Gate of Realms. A shimmering screen of blue-violet light materialized, casting an ethereal glow across the worn stones of the keep. The gathered group stared in astonishment, their expressions a mix of awe and skepticism.

Viserys stepped through first, leading the way with Dany following close behind. Then came Geralt, his steps steady but guarded. Yennefer followed, keeping a steady hand on Ciri, who hesitated for only a moment before stepping through.

On the other side of the portal, the group emerged into a sprawling wilderness, its air thick with wonder and magic. Ciri gasped, her eyes wide with amazement.

"Oh my god! Dragons! So many dragons!" she exclaimed.