Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 323: House of the Undying

The House of the Undying was decaying, of course, from a lack of vital energy. But Pree wasn’t about to admit that.

With a smooth voice, he said, "Your Grace, the key to immortality lies in the immortality of the soul. As long as the soul endures, the body has the potential for eternal life. We’ve come to seek that truth. How can you let something as trivial as appearances stop you?"

Pree coaxed and spun his lies with practiced ease, trying to keep Viserys on the path toward the trap. Not just Pree, but Xaro and Egon were anxious now, their earlier confidence rattled. If Viserys backed out, all their schemes would unravel.

Fortunately for them, Viserys appeared to take the bait.

"You’re right," he replied, letting a faint smile touch his lips, though inwardly he sneered. They think I’m that gullible? He turned to Egon and said, "Egon, my friend, I’ll enter and seek the truth of immortality."

"Your Grace, please," Egon replied with a forced smile, relief flooding his voice as he watched Viserys finally step into the shadowed black-leatherwood forest.

Both Egon and Xaro let out quiet sighs. Xaro, who had worked so closely with the Warlocks to engineer this trap, allowed himself a brief moment of triumph. Everything was falling into place.

"If only he had brought his sister with him," Xaro muttered to himself, casting a sly glance at the retreating figure of Viserys. "We could deal with the guards more easily."

As Viserys and Pree walked further into the forest, Pree couldn’t hide his excitement. His eyes gleamed in the dim light as he said with a smile, "Your Grace, if you don't mind, you may hold my hand for guidance."

The words made Viserys pause. The same offer had been made to Daenerys in the original timeline—when she had been nothing more than a fifteen-year-old girl, vulnerable and unsure. But now, he was a towering man, standing well over six feet tall. Why would Pree offer such a thing? Could there be a hallucinogen on his hands, something meant to trick him even before they reached the heart of the House of the Undying?

Feigning politeness, Viserys smiled. "Lord Pree, compared to your centuries of wisdom, I’m but a naive child. But I think my legs are strong enough to stand on their own. Perhaps I should hold your arm instead."

Without waiting for a reply, Viserys slid one arm beneath Pree’s and gripped it tightly, almost in a manner of forced control. The height difference became awkwardly obvious—Pree, shorter and frailer, was nearly lifted off the ground by Viserys’s grip. His feet stumbled, and he had to lift one leg to maintain his balance, his face twitching with discomfort.

But he couldn’t protest. To do so would risk revealing his intentions too soon. So Pree endured, his excitement buried beneath forced calm as they ventured deeper into the forest.

The deeper they went, the darker it grew. At first, they could still make out the shapes of branches and leaves, but soon, all light seemed to vanish.

Fortunately, Viserys soon spotted the gates of the House of the Undying, their dark, ominous shape looming ahead. Just as he was about to forcefully drag Pree inside, the Warlock suddenly stopped him, speaking in a soft but urgent tone.

"Your Grace, we cannot proceed this way. The main entrance to the temple only allows entry but never exit. From now on, you must cherish your soul."

"‘Cherish your soul’?" Viserys echoed, puzzled. Whether he was recalling the original story or facing it in reality now, those words didn’t quite make sense.

Pree continued, his voice carrying an air of mystery. "You’ll understand once you’re inside. From this point forward, you must walk the path alone. Upon entering, you will see four doors in the room—one is the entrance, and the other three are your choices. Each time, always choose the door on the far right. Never, under any circumstance, enter the others."

Viserys listened carefully, though the instructions seemed overly specific. Pree’s tone became more insistent. "Whenever you encounter a staircase, always climb upward—never descend. And be warned, the other doors will tempt you with illusions: visions of the past, the future, horrors, and wonders alike. No matter what you see or hear, do not be swayed. The servants and beings in those rooms may try to speak to you. You may respond, but do not step inside. Your only destination is the audience hall. That is where the truly immortal beings await you, and they will impart the real secrets of immortality. You must listen to every word they say."

"Hmm?" Viserys raised an eyebrow. "Lord Pree, aren’t you considered one of these 'truly immortal' beings?"

Pree’s decaying lips curled into a faint, cryptic smile. "Indeed, Your Grace. But to achieve true immortality, you must go further."

Viserys nodded, his impatience thinly veiled. "I understand. Thank you for your guidance." His tone lacked any real gratitude, and he didn’t bother asking the critical question of how to leave—something Daenerys had questioned in the original timeline. But Viserys’s arrogance only reassured Pree that the visions he'd seen of Viserys's downfall were inevitable.

'Your vitality belongs to the House of the Undying!' Pree thought to himself, his blue-violet lips twitching with anticipation, his decayed body practically salivating at the thought.

As Viserys stepped through the ominous entrance, he found himself facing an oval-shaped, lacquered doorway set into a wall carved in the shape of a grotesque human face. Standing beside the wall was a dwarf no taller than Viserys's knees, dragging a silver tray that held a single cup of blue liquid—a thick, viscous potion, shimmering faintly in the dim light.

“Do I have to drink this?” Viserys asked, eyeing the cup with mild suspicion.

“Yes, drinking it will make you—”

Before Pree could finish, Viserys lifted the cup and downed the blue potion in one swift gulp. Pree’s heart lightened at the sight. Most who arrived at the House of the Undying hesitated—questions about the potion’s effects, or even vain concerns about their lips turning blue, were common. But Viserys, he thought, was different. He drank like a man starving for immortality, eager and reckless.

In reality, Viserys had hesitated for a moment. He’d read about Daenerys’s experience in the original story—how the potion had tasted of Drogo’s essence, an unpleasant thought. What a nightmare, he had mused. But, fortunately for him, his version didn’t have that particular flavor. The drink was more like bitter medicine, and he held his breath as he swallowed, grimacing slightly.

Once the potion hit his stomach, he wasted no time. Silently, he summoned a burst of magic within himself, igniting a small flame in his gut to burn away the potion’s effects. He felt his stomach churn, singeing slightly from the fire, but the magical panel inside him worked quickly, repairing the damage. Though the flames had neutralized most of the potion, there were lingering traces in his throat. As he swallowed, an odd jumble of flavors flooded his senses—fatty roast meat, rich milk, fine wines he’d tasted before… and Falia’s lips. His first kiss in this world. The memory of it was clear and sharp, as if the potion had somehow unlocked it.

It’s triggering memories... and all the flavors I’ve ever experienced? Viserys thought, intrigued. Suddenly, a rush of unexpected tastes hit him: soda, cocktails, chocolate, fried chicken. He blinked. Even the tastes from my past life?

This realization left Viserys astonished—and a little envious of whoever had concocted such a drink. “You may proceed,” Pree said, watching Viserys’s changing expressions with interest.

"Can I have another cup?" Viserys asked, a playful grin creeping onto his face. "Or better yet, can you teach me the recipe?"

Pree, slightly taken aback, replied, "Of course. The drink is primarily made from the juice of nightshades, but it requires a spell and some magic during preparation. I can teach you… once you come out."

Viserys raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Why not teach me now? I might not leave here with immortality, but I’d love to at least have this recipe." His tone was light, almost like a drunkard who’d found the finest wine and couldn’t bear to leave without knowing how it was made.

Pree’s mouth twitched, caught off guard by Viserys’s unexpected shift in focus.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace. It’s no big deal. Once you’re out, I’ll personally teach you how to make the ‘Shade of the Evening,’” Pree assured him.

"Fine, I'll hold you to that," Viserys replied with a smirk before stepping through the doorway.

He found himself in a room with tiled floors and polished walls. Wait... tiles? He blinked, rubbing his eyes. The tiles vanished, revealing cold, bare slabs of stone beneath his feet. An illusion, he realized, a trick of the Shade of the Evening he had just consumed.

Taking a moment to gather his bearings, Viserys noticed four identical wooden doors ahead. The temptation to explore them tugged at his curiosity, but he reminded himself of Pree's warning: Always choose the door on the far right. Still, he couldn’t resist just a peek at what might be behind the other doors.

He approached the far-left door, opening it cautiously. At first, the room appeared empty, but as he looked closer, he spotted translucent shadows within. One ghostly figure seemed to be shouting into a square object.

Is that... a walkie-talkie? Viserys squinted. Wait, isn't that Ivan?

The figure resembled one of his comrades from his former life as Li Mingrui, before his transmigration. Ivan, the man who constantly forgot to switch the safety off his gun.

“Suka-nuli! Li! Give me a magazine!” the shadow yelled, its voice distant and distorted.

Viserys chuckled to himself, a wave of nostalgia washing over him. Ivan, still as useless as ever.

The scene was too surreal, too disconnected from the present. Pree’s words echoed in his mind: You’ll see things from the past and the future. He realized that the Shade of the Evening was playing tricks on his senses, mixing up his memories. But since he hadn’t consumed a large quantity, the visions were fleeting and hazy, lacking substance.

He moved to the second door. Inside, he saw the ghostly outline of a tank, reminding him of the time he had taught a rookie how to drive one. He smiled again, though this time more wistfully.

The third door opened to a scene from a red-light district, where he and his comrades had gone to celebrate after a hard-won battle. Figures, he thought, his lips curling into a smirk. Seems like the visions of my past life are a bit too... vivid.

Viserys knew that Daenerys, in the original story, had seen visions of Rhaegar and Aerys during her experience in the House of the Undying. But his situation was different. Though his body was that of a Targaryen, his soul was still Li Mingrui, a man from a different world. If the real Viserys were here, maybe he’d see more Targaryen-related things. But for me... this is a strange mix of my two lives.

Finally, he reached the far-right door—the one he was supposed to choose. Steeling himself, he opened it and stepped into the next room.

To his surprise, the room was... empty. No visions, no strange figures from his past or future. Just silence.

What’s going on? he wondered. This was supposed to be the path to immortality, yet here he was, standing in an empty chamber.

“Is the Shade of the Evening ineffective?” Viserys muttered, regretting having burned away most of the potion’s effects. In the original story, Daenerys had seen powerful visions—prophecies of the Red Wedding, the War of the Five Kings. While those events no longer applied to this timeline, he still hoped to glimpse something crucial—especially concerning the Night King and the threat beyond the Wall.

There has to be something useful here, he thought, pushing forward.

As he continued, the Shade of the Evening seemed to regain its potency. Viserys came across a room where a scene of ice and snow unfolded before him. Amid the blizzard, a towering structure of bones loomed—a Topless Tower made of skeletons. But unlike the watchtowers he had ordered built, these towers were grotesquely animated. Each corpse had glowing blue eyes, their decayed limbs twitching mindlessly, identical to the White Walkers he had once encountered.

“Is this the Night King’s work?” Viserys wondered, staring at the chilling sight.

He opened another door, and suddenly, an army of wights with those same eerie blue eyes lunged at him. Viserys instinctively flinched, though he reminded himself this is just an illusion. But the realism of the vision was unsettling—too real.

The illusions are becoming more vivid...

Viserys pressed on, and beyond the wights, he saw something that made his heart sink—the Great Wall collapsing. Massive chunks of ice and stone crumbled, and the once-impenetrable barrier was now nothing more than rubble. So much effort, and still... I couldn’t hold them back, he thought bitterly.

The undead were still contained to the North, but the sight of the Wall falling left him with a sense of urgency. If they get past the North, there’s only The Neck to slow them down. But with temperatures plummeting, even The Neck might freeze over.

I’ll have to consider fortifying it, Viserys mused. A few strong fortresses there might buy us time.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he stepped through the far-right door once again, finding himself in a long, dimly lit corridor.

At that moment, in the Audience Hall, the Undying Ones, seated around a long, decaying table, witnessed the same vision as Viserys. A swirling sea of smoke hovered above their heads, and within it, images began to form—airplanes, tanks, mobile phones, and White Walkers, all blending into the chaotic scene. They saw the Topless Tower looming tall, and their collective shock was palpable.

How does he know?
What is all this?

The Undying Ones exchanged uneasy glances before looking toward the eldest of their group—a figure more ancient than any other, appearing like a mummy just unearthed from a sun-scorched desert. His skin was paper-thin, his eye sockets hollow, and his lips a deep, unnatural blue. Even with all his wisdom, he too could not fully comprehend what they were seeing. But it didn’t matter. Viserys’s footsteps were growing louder, and the vitality they so desperately craved was almost within their grasp.

Meanwhile, Viserys felt as if he were stumbling through a fevered dream. Reality and illusion were beginning to blur. He saw a gathering of old men with long, white beards kneeling before him, their skeletal hands reaching out to touch his robes and boots as if he were their savior. It’s all an illusion, Viserys reminded himself, keeping his mind sharp.

Suddenly, those same figures shifted, their forms twisting grotesquely into the Undying Ones. Their hands turned into claws, some clutching at his ankles, others grabbing his arms, while some opened their decaying mouths and moved toward his neck.

The only time you are most vulnerable is when there is a massive flow of vitality. Pree's earlier words echoed in his mind.

Viserys feigned ignorance, pretending to be overwhelmed by the illusions. He let the cold, rotting mouths latch onto his skin, their slimy tongues probing as they began to suck at his essence. At least seven or eight Undying Ones clung to him, their mouths pressed against him like parasites.

'Disgusting,' he thought, his stomach churning as two of them latched onto his chest, feeding like infants at their mother’s breast.

Their sucking and biting made him feel filthy, his skin crawling with revulsion. 'I’m not clean anymore,' he thought, nearly gagging from the sensation.

Glancing at his panel, Viserys saw his Health and Constitution depleting rapidly. His life force was being drained at an alarming rate. But instead of panicking, he began tapping into the massive reserves of attribute points he had stored up. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty…

The Undying Ones feeding on him were astounded. They had expected to drain him quickly, but Viserys’s life energy far exceeded their expectations—surpassing anything they had ever encountered. Slowly, their pale, decaying skin began to regain color, and their withered hair, once lifeless and brittle, started to show signs of vitality.

This is no illusion—he truly possesses this much life energy!

The Undying Ones, while draining Viserys, began to feel uneasy. For a moment, they feared they had walked into a trap, but the life energy they were absorbing was undeniably real, and it was nourishing their decaying bodies.

We've struck gold!

Some of them even began to imagine the vitality they could siphon from Dany as well.

One hour passed, then two, then three... Slowly, the Undying Ones transformed. What were once indistinguishable figures—hollow, decaying shells—had become strikingly handsome men and beautiful women. The men’s bodies were strong and muscular, while the women developed alluring curves. Their decayed forms had rejuvenated into their former splendor. Even the House of the Undying itself, once decrepit and falling apart, began to restore, its walls radiating newfound glory.

Just as they reveled in their revival, a fierce, burning heat surged from all directions.

Before the Undying Ones could react, black-red flames engulfed them. It happened so quickly that they had no time to comprehend what was occurring. Outside, Dany, mounted on her silver dragon, led her seven dragons, circling the House of the Undying like sentinels of destruction. The Undying Ones tried to release their grip on Viserys, but their bodies refused to obey. They were trapped.

Viserys had activated his Paragon-level blood magic, and instead of merely losing life energy, he began absorbing theirs.

Normally, blood magic could only move a limited amount of life force, but Viserys had his panel—allowing him to convert the life energy he absorbed directly into attribute points. The very vitality that had fueled the Undying Ones was now fueling him.

When did we fall into his trap?

The Undying Ones, once smug with amusement, now stared at Viserys in horror. How is this possible? they thought. He’s not one of us—how can he absorb such an immense amount of life force?

As panic spread among them, their newly revived skin began to wither once more. Their bodies, which had just regained their youthful vitality, began to shrivel. Their lifeblood drained back into Viserys. Their souls, too, were drawn into him—disappearing entirely.

In an instant, a flood of knowledge—centuries of the Undying Ones’ secret arts and dark magic—overwhelmed Viserys's mind. He stood amidst the onslaught of this ancient power, absorbing it all.

Meanwhile, outside, the House of the Undying crumbled under the intense onslaught of dragonfire. To Dany’s surprise, the building did not burn like wood or stone, but disintegrated like paper. Everywhere the dragons’ flames touched, the once-grand structure turned to smoke and ash.