Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 307: Yurkhaz’s Wish

Yurkhaz, who was near death, cared little for wealth or property now. All that mattered to him was wringing out as much enjoyment as possible from his failing body. He was well aware of the plans Slaver's Bay and Qarth had against Viserys.

Hahaha... But would a dragon really let someone reeking of filth get anywhere near it? Yurkhaz eyed Viserys, his dark robe fluttering in the wind. Maybe this man is the key to fulfilling my final dream.

Across the street, the ancient and equally grizzled Lord Commander Yarkhaz stood at the head of the procession, overseeing Viserys’s arrival in Yunkai. Unlike the panic that had gripped Meereen, Yunkai remained calm. The sight of flying dragons stirred curiosity, but no fear.

Supported by two strong slaves, Yarkhaz stood at the front, his personal choir of eunuch singers breaking into song as the nobles of Yunkai and Viserys’s entourage slowly converged. The eunuchs were young, their voices clear and powerful, thanks to their unique condition. Their singing, pure and haunting, blended with the sound of the waves crashing behind them as they performed ancient court songs from the Old Empire of Ghis.

Yarkhaz, an old-fashioned man, clung to the glory days of Ghiscar.

“Welcome, Dragonlord!” the nobles intoned, bowing their heads, while the slaves and commoners knelt in unison like a field of wheat bending in the wind.

“There is no need for such formalities, Wise Masters,” Viserys said with a faint smile. “I have heard Yunkai is home to exceptional talent and natural beauty, and I wished to see it myself before purchasing Unsullied.”

A flash of amusement flickered in Yurkhaz’s wrinkled eyes, disappearing into the folds of his sagging face. 'Natural beauty? You want to sample the pleasures of Yunkai’s famous bed slaves, don’t you?'

“Your Grace’s presence brings unprecedented radiance to Yunkai,” Yurkhaz replied smoothly. “I’ve already arranged a light banquet in your honor. I hope you will grace us with your presence.”

“Achoo!” Dany suddenly sneezed, recoiling from the overpowering scent of perfume in the air. Viserys glanced at Yurkhaz and noticed the brief look of embarrassment on his face.

The old man had doused himself in perfume and incense to mask the stench of his decaying body, a mix of urine and feces.

“Please forgive me, Your Grace,” Yurkhaz murmured apologetically. “I suffer from a debilitating illness and must rely on perfume to cover the smell.”

Viserys studied Yurkhaz’s jaundiced eyes, their yellowish hue like the skin of an overripe orange. The man was clearly dying, likely from a failing liver. Though Viserys’s blood magic could save him, the entire Slaver's Bay was his enemy. The key was to make them feel secure so he could take what he needed—the Unsullied.

“No matter,” Viserys said graciously. “The fact that this kind host greets us despite his illness is proof that Yunkai, and indeed all of Slaver’s Bay, is a land of etiquette.”

'Puff, a land of etiquette,' Yurkhaz thought, biting back a smile. Still, Yarkhaz’s chest swelled with pride, clearly flattered by the compliment.

Long before Viserys’s fleet had set sail from Meereen, word of his words and actions had already reached Yunkai.

...

"After a lifetime of battles, can't he just enjoy himself?" This had become a common joke among the Wise Masters of Yunkai, mocking Viserys's reputation for indulgence.

"But what about his sister?" one of them asked. "What should we do with her?"

"She’s just a girl, thirteen or fourteen. Pretty clothes, jewelry, pets—there’s always something to distract her."

A few of the Wise Masters stood on the city walls, watching Viserys and his entourage enter the city.

"And his dragons? How will we divide them?" another inquired.

"That’s unclear," someone replied. "Only the Warlocks of Qarth seem capable of handling the two Targaryens. Maybe each of the Free Cities can claim one of the seven dragons, but the rest... who knows?"

After a lavish feast, a selection of bed slaves was sent to Viserys's chambers. Each one had been carefully chosen—pale-skinned beauties with silky-soft flesh, as he was rumored to prefer women with fair complexions over those with darker tones. Their eyes, large and wet with desire, seemed to shimmer with every glance, promising more than just companionship. These women were experts in the art of seduction, their sole purpose clear: to drain the young emperor of every ounce of his strength.

Among them was even a noblewoman from Yunkai, a sign of just how far the city was willing to go to please him.

"Your Grace... Your Grace..." they cooed, voices soft as silk.

By the time dusk had turned to night, Viserys had endured hours of their advances. Pretending to be asleep, though still very much awake, he realized it was best not to push his stamina to inhuman levels. Otherwise, he risked confirming the mocking title of "Emperor of Empty Promises."

Lying still, his mind drifted as he observed Yunkai's fortifications and the surrounding landscape through his dragon’s eyes. But then he noticed something—someone had infiltrated his room.

His body was still entangled with one of the women, but he kept his breathing steady, continuing the pretense of sleep. From the sound of the intruder’s footsteps, Viserys could tell it was no seasoned assassin—perhaps not even a real one. He remained calm, his instincts sharp.

Even if the assassin's blade were already at his throat, Viserys was certain he could kill him before the dagger cut too deep.

What's next? he wondered, his thoughts focused. Come to assassinate me? At least send someone competent. What does this fool want?

He could feel the intruder climb into the bed, doing something to the woman beside him. His breathing slowed, his muscles ready to spring into action at any moment.

Suddenly, a cool yet pungent scent wafted beneath Viserys's nose. Sweet, syrupy whispers echoed in his ears, and as he opened his eyes, a figure with purple hair and matching eyes came into view.

It was Sweetheart, Yurkhaz the Yellow-Eyed’s favorite bisexual slave. Sweetheart had climbed onto Viserys's large bed, surrounded by a tangle of exposed, lustful bodies. Despite sitting directly on one of them, face-to-face, the other woman remained fast asleep, likely drugged into oblivion.

Viserys's spine tingled with unease. He was certain he’d never been served by this hermaphrodite before, and the closeness of their bodies made his stomach churn. But to maintain his reputation as a debauched ruler, he forced himself to act the part. With a steady hand, he moved from a woman’s bosom to Sweetheart’s cheek.

“What? Haven’t I fed you enough?” he asked, his voice dripping with forced seduction.

To his dismay, Sweetheart smiled bashfully, sending a wave of goosebumps across Viserys’s skin.

“Your Grace, I’m here on behalf of my master,” Sweetheart said softly.

“Your master? Yurkhaz?” Viserys raised an eyebrow, unsure what Yurkhaz could possibly want. “What does he want from me?”

Sweetheart’s expression shifted abruptly. The lewd smile vanished, replaced by a grim seriousness.

“Your Grace, what I’m about to tell you concerns your life. My master is dying, and he knows this news could save you. In return, he has only one request—before he dies, he wishes to ride your dragon, even if just once.”

Viserys stared in disbelief. Ride my dragon? he thought.

Sweetheart continued, “My master remains the wealthiest Wise Master in Yunkai. Once his request is granted, he is willing to offer all his wealth to you.”

Without warning, Viserys’s face darkened, and his hand shot out, wrapping tightly around Sweetheart’s slender neck. "No one makes deals with me," he growled.

Sweetheart’s swan-like neck was completely in Viserys’s grasp, and she gasped, struggling to breathe.

The lustful mask had been replaced by raw terror. She hadn’t expected such violence from someone who had appeared so consumed by pleasure.

Viserys, however, had already pieced together what was happening. When secrets spread too widely, someone always spilled them. If Slaver's Bay was plotting against him, there were bound to be those who didn’t want to join the conspiracy—and some who might even look for a way out.

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