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Chapter 490
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 16:59:53 +0000 UTCThe moment Aegor spotted Bran from afar, he immediately realized that his earlier worries were nothing more than needless fretting.
The two senior priests and the Greenseer resided in the same dormitory district within the inner keep of Crowntown, just a short distance from Aegor's office and living quarters. While Melisandre and Macchoro were healthy and physically fit, Bran was paralyzed and reliant on others to push his wheelchair. Despite such physical limitations, the Greenseer in his chair still managed to arrive outside the office building within mere ten minutes of Aegor’s brief stroll to the stables.
After a quick mental calculation, Aegor drew a conclusion: Bran must have, along with the two Red Priests, sensed R’hllor’s presence and set out immediately toward the source of the miracle. In fact, Bran might have started even earlier!
This seemingly insignificant detail, upon closer analysis, revealed a much deeper meaning.
Ever since Bran had returned from beyond the Wall and ascended to the status of “Greenseer,” everyone, Aegor included, had only ever visited Bran at his quarters to seek his guidance. No one had ever seen him make the effort to visit others. For someone with his divine abilities, it was understandable and accepted that he would carry an air of detachment. Yet, for the first time, Bran had broken from this pattern, going out of his way to meet someone—a stark contrast to his usual behavior.
The shift from “waiting to be approached” to “taking the initiative to visit” inherently carried a hint of submission. For such a change to occur at this particular moment, the implications were clear: Bran had been shaken by R’hllor’s manifestation. This was his way of signaling goodwill and declaring himself a non-threat. There could be no other explanation.
Through Bran’s reaction, Aegor once again deepened his understanding of the power he wielded. The might of R’hllor was truly overwhelming, beyond all reason.
How foolish he had been—Aegor chided himself inwardly. A presence capable of scaring the White Walkers back to their icy lairs without even lifting a finger, and he had worried whether it could intimidate a mere Greenseer?
Chastising himself aside, Aegor felt his mood improve significantly. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his coat to ensure the golden scales on his chest remained hidden. With a smile, he approached the Greenseer waiting in the cold wind.
“Milord.”
“Lord Commander.”
The robust woman from the Gift pushing Bran’s wheelchair and the black-clad Bran Stark both greeted him. Though Bran couldn’t rise due to his paralyzed lower body, the Stark boy appeared vibrant and full of energy, showing no sign of exhaustion from the strain of battling the Others.
Aegor had suspected for a while that Bran was feigning weakness to lower his profile. Now, it seemed he was right. If not for R’hllor’s manifestation shaking things up, who knew what schemes Bran was quietly plotting?
Bran, seemingly oblivious to his superior’s displeasure, got straight to the point after his greeting. “I have critical information to report, milord. Might I have a private moment of your time?”
Noticing the boy’s solemn expression, Aegor stifled his irritation and nodded after a moment of thought. “Not here. Let’s talk inside.”
Since moving Bran’s wheelchair upstairs would be cumbersome, Aegor chose to hold the meeting in the large conference room downstairs. After the Gift woman pushed Bran inside, she left on her own. Aegor dismissed the guards outside the door, leaving only Melisandre to remain. While he trusted his instincts that the Greenseer wouldn’t dare harm R’hllor’s chosen, Aegor wasn’t one to rely solely on instinct. After all, he could never truly know whether the scales gifted by R’hllor might be viewed by lowly supernatural beings in this world as a divine treasure capable of driving them mad with desire.
The wind howled outside the walls, but within the room, only the breaths of three people could be heard. Aegor, wearing an amused expression, stood before Bran and scrutinized him for a few moments. Bran, sitting in his wheelchair, straightened himself with a solemn air and offered a courteous nod.
“In the name of the Greenseer, I greet the chosen of the Lord of Light. May your endeavors be fruitful.”
Though the words were simple, they made both Aegor and Melisandre’s hearts skip a beat.
Aegor was pleased. This boy, perhaps pressured by the overwhelming might of R’hllor, had finally cast aside the guise of the Stark family’s innocent child and begun speaking as his true self. What startled him, however, was Bran’s immediate reference to R’hllor as the “Lady of Light.”
Was this merely a slip of the tongue from overhearing his earlier conversation with the Red Priests? Or… Before Aegor could finish the thought, he realized he was approaching the question from the wrong angle. Considering the Greenseer’s method of survival—abandoning mortal bodies every few centuries to pass on memories and knowledge—Bran’s “soul age” or “memory age” was likely far older than any living Red Priest. Hundreds of years were trivial; millennia weren’t out of the question.
Given that, the answer was clear: this ancient being hadn’t merely heard of R’hllor and the Great Other. He had seen R’hllor’s true form and likely interacted with her, hence his knowledge that she was a woman!
While this revelation might seem alarming, it was actually good news.
The Greenseer’s recognition of R’hllor meant that Aegor couldn’t casually spout nonsense to intimidate him. But it also meant he wouldn’t need to waste words invoking R’hllor’s name as a threat. A witness of the Long Night and, perhaps, the War for the Dawn, the Greenseer would be well aware of R’hllor’s unparalleled power and ruthless nature. As long as the Lady’s deterrence remained, Bran wouldn’t dare act against him!
Aegor came to this conclusion within moments. Confidence swelling within him, he pulled out a chair and sat down calmly, as if nothing had surprised him. “May you also find fortune, Greenseer. As long as your fortune does not conflict with mine.” He added a subtle jab, not caring if Bran caught it or not. “Now, let’s get to the point. What is this critical information?”
“Would you prefer the good news or the bad news first, milord?”
Aegor despised suspense. Hearing this, his expression darkened. Bran, seeing this, shrugged and cut to the chase. “The good news is that the Queen’s black dragon is recovering well. It’s out of danger, and though full recovery will take time, regaining flight capability is imminent.”
Without pausing, the boy continued, “The bad news is that the small group of Unsullied that passed near Crowntown days ago has now reached Last Hearth. Among them were two of your ‘old friends.’ After counseling the Queen, they successfully persuaded her to set aside the chaos of the North and return to the war for the Iron Throne in King’s Landing as soon as possible. You’ll receive her farewell letter within a day or two. You might want to start planning your response now.”
Those two bastards! Always living up to their reputation as troublemakers!
Aegor frowned, his expression growing darker. These were clearly both bad news; the first was just less obviously so.
As long as the black dragon remained grounded, Daenerys would never abandon one of her “children.” Her decision to “return as soon as possible” hinged on Drogon’s recovery. Even if it couldn’t carry passengers, once it could fly, the Queen could take the Unsullied south by land or sea, with her dragons accompanying them in the skies.
Annoying as it was, Aegor had anticipated this scenario.
The expedition’s timeline had been pushed up by a week precisely to counter potential disruptions from Varys and Littlefinger. The Queen’s agreement to return south wasn’t due to their eloquence but rather to Aegor’s delays exhausting her patience.
The information was indeed crucial but ultimately meaningless. By the time Daenerys penned her farewell letter and packed her things, Aegor would already be leading the armies of the Gift to Last Hearth, ready to fulfill his earlier promise. At that point, the Queen would have no reason to leave.
“Understood,” Aegor replied gravely, his thoughts organized. “Besides this good and bad news, is there anything else worth mentioning?”
“News is born every moment, milord. Whatever you wish to know, I can seek out for you,” Bran replied, tilting his head to meet Aegor’s gaze. “No matter the task R’hllor has entrusted to you, I would gladly serve her chosen one. I formally offer myself to accompany you on your upcoming southern campaign. With the assistance of the Greenseer’s vision, I assure you that R’hllor’s mission—and your ambitions—will be accomplished with half the effort. What say you, Chosen of the Flame?”
(Southern campaign? Wasn’t that supposed to happen after retaking the Haunted Forest?)
Melisandre’s eyes narrowed as she turned to study Aegor.
(So that’s his real intention. The earlier news was just a prelude and proof of loyalty.)
Aegor squinted as well, suddenly grasping Bran’s train of thought. This schemer, who had previously hindered his plans regarding Jon Snow’s lineage, now realized he was under R’hllor’s protection. Instead of excuses or defiance, Bran had chosen the smarter route: to join him. A declaration of loyalty, bypassing all awkward negotiations and eliminating any hostilities in one stroke!
He looked up, meeting Melisandre’s gaze. Though a sense of wariness welled up within him, he couldn’t suppress the thrill pounding in his chest.
A supernatural being capable of seeing everything that occurred across all of Westeros, past and present!
If such a being were willing to help wholeheartedly, then Aegor’s path forward would be truly unstoppable. It was a far greater boon than any passive abilities granted by the golden scales on his chest.
…
