Chapter 485

R’hllor’s expression turned cold, her head tilting slightly as she fixed Aegor with her luminous, piercing violet eyes. Her gaze bore into him, leaving him with an unsettling chill deep in his chest.

“It seems you’ve misunderstood something—this war against the White Walkers isn’t your noble act of assisting me out of the kindness of your heart. You’re fighting for your survival as a human, not because I asked for your help. I won’t deny that your presence has saved me a great deal of effort, but as long as the Cold God fears me, humanity—under my guidance—will win this war, with or without you. The only difference lies in the cost of victory. The strength I’ve saved because of you? I’m using it now to enter your dreams and explain everything. After this, I owe you nothing.”

For a moment, Aegor thought he had gone too far, that his probing had angered the goddess. He began calculating whether it might be better to back off entirely to avoid provoking her further. But then, her tone shifted, giving him a glimmer of opportunity: “Rewards? I’ve already offered you two. However, if you truly desire something more, there may be another option. Have you wondered why I would go to the trouble of explaining all this to a mere mortal, warning you of the dangers of the Lands of Always Winter, rather than simply implanting the thought into your mind that you must never go there?”

Aegor’s expression shifted uneasily. He couldn’t tell if her question was genuine or a veiled threat—a reminder of the divine power she wielded and the vast gulf between them.

“It’s because you’re not the sort of person who can be manipulated with fabricated notions or petty tricks,” R’hllor continued, her voice calm but sharp. “To compel someone like you to act on my behalf, it’s far easier to lay everything bare, to explain it all thoroughly, and let you choose of your own free will. That way, I don’t need to concern myself with whether you might rebel or break free of control due to your suspicions and cleverness.”

With that, the woman no longer hovered at his side. Instead, she ascended and floated further away, silver hair billowing in an unseen wind, her bright violet eyes glowing like stars. From this new vantage, her presence became overwhelming—divine, untouchable, and majestic.

Moments ago, she had been nothing more than a visitor in his dreams, a storyteller spinning her tale. Now, she stood revealed as the true R’hllor, the Red God of Light, whose power eclipsed all mortals.

“I’ve prepared something else for you,” she said, her tone lofty and distant. “But it isn’t a reward—it’s a payment in advance for what you will do for me in the future.” She raised her right hand, palm open, and a small, radiant object materialized above it, glowing so brightly that Aegor couldn’t make out its details. “This time, I relied on my lingering strength to intimidate the Cold God into retreat. But such posturing won’t work forever. I must rid myself of this lingering, debilitating demon corruption before my deterrence fails completely. That’s why I’ve decided to enter a long slumber, using my draconic bloodline’s innate power to heal myself fully and permanently.”

She lowered her hand, but the glowing object didn’t fall. Instead, it hovered between her and Aegor, spinning slowly and pulsating with a faint light, as if alive.

“While I focus on recovery, I will not be able to answer my followers’ prayers or intervene in mortal affairs. I need someone to act as my proxy—to manage my faith, protect my remaining bloodline, and lay the groundwork for a new kingdom. Childbearing is an exhausting and damaging process, and I have no intention of repeating it. Yet when I recover and attempt once more to leave this world, I’ll need a powerful and unified realm to build the next spatial array. Waiting centuries or millennia for such a kingdom to form is out of the question.”

She paused, her glow intensifying, obscuring her face. “Aegon Targaryen was once my chosen pawn, but a mere blink of an eye later, his descendants nearly wiped each other out in a civil war. Another blink, and their dynasty crumbled to dust. Three hundred years of preparation, wasted. Now, I need a new candidate. Will you accept?”

Aegor’s thoughts swirled. The Targaryens’ conquest of the Seven Kingdoms—their entire dynasty—had been nothing more than R’hllor’s backup plan after Valyria’s fall? And now she wanted him to take up the mantle, to assist her offspring in establishing a new, unified kingdom so that, upon her awakening, she could seamlessly resume her ambitions?

The sheer insignificance of it all stung. He was no more than a tool, a cog in a vast, unfathomable scheme. Worse still, the magnitude of the task meant it might take his entire lifetime—if not longer—to accomplish. The odds of him seeing it through to completion, let alone benefiting from it, seemed slim.

But Aegor had long since grown past the point of doing things solely for pride or satisfaction. Now, all he cared about was one thing: what did this so-called advance payment—the glowing object before him—offer him?

“Is it immortality?” he asked warily. “Or unparalleled strength?”

“It’s a scale,” R’hllor said, as though answering a far simpler question. “One of my scales—ordinary, save for the enchantments I’ve placed upon it to lock its power and fix its effects. Don’t look so surprised. As someone with half-dragon blood, I don’t look exactly as you imagine beneath my clothing. Carrying this scale marks you as my chosen emissary. My followers will obey you without question. All sentient beings will fear and respect you. Every extraordinary creature that knows of my existence—save for the Cold God and the demons still lurking in the ruins of Valyria—will avoid crossing you. For a mere mortal with no strength of your own, could there be a better reward?”

Though unexpected, Aegor couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed. It wasn’t quite what he had hoped for.

“Accept, or refuse—it’s your choice,” R’hllor said flatly. “But let me remind you, I could line up willing candidates from Shadow Tower to Eastwatch by the Sea. I only came to you first because I favor you—a fellow outsider like my mother.”

Aegor doubted her words about favoring outsiders. Still, the task she proposed wasn’t entirely at odds with his own plans. Helping her bloodline ascend the throne aligned neatly with his ambitions to back a new queen. And the scale? He’d be a fool to refuse.

“I accept, Lady R’hllor,” he said after only a brief pause. He understood this wasn’t a request but an ultimatum cloaked in the guise of choice. Her mind had been made up the moment she entered his dream. The “choice” was merely ceremonial. Though Aegor’s pride and rebellious nature chafed at the manipulation, he knew when to yield. “For the rest of my life, I will dedicate myself to fulfilling the task you’ve entrusted to me.”

“Spare me the theatrics,” R’hllor said with a faint snort. “How you use the scale is your problem. Experiment with it however you like. So long as a powerful kingdom rises in my name, I don’t care how you achieve it—lie, cheat, conquer, or worse. This is farewell... or perhaps not.”

Before Aegor could respond, the dream shattered. R’hllor’s radiant form dissolved into countless fragments of light, leaving only the glowing scale—and a bewildered Aegor—behind.

Her parting words echoed ominously in his mind. “Or perhaps not.” Was it because her slumber carried a risk of failure—or because, to an immortal, he was nothing more than a fleeting memory, a passing shadow in her endless existence?

As the dream faded, the scale shot toward him, piercing his chest with a blinding pain that jolted him awake.

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