Chapter 373

Invited politely into the grand hall of Dragonstone, Aegor somehow managed to anger the Mother of Dragons during their first meeting. Worse yet, it wasn’t even because of something he’d done wrong—it was Daenerys herself who had worked herself into a fury.

After thanking Missandei for guiding him through the castle and ensuring their accommodations were arranged, Aegor, still brimming with anger and urgency, wasted no time before storming into Melisandre’s room next door.

“You’re the one who insisted I come to Dragonstone to meet the queen, yet during the entire meeting, you said nothing! You just stood behind me like some sort of prop,” Aegor snapped. He rarely spoke to the red priestess in such a harsh tone, but the current situation left him no room for calm. “Now we’re ‘resting,’ but in truth, we’re being detained. By morning, what am I supposed to tell the Mother of Dragons? If I agree to her terms, everything I’ve been planning will be ruined. The moment I return, I’ll be branded a traitor, forced to fight the White Walkers while simultaneously dealing with the anger of the Starks and explaining myself to the mountain clans. If I refuse, at best we’re thrown out of Dragonstone, and at worst, that Targaryen girl loses her mind and has me imprisoned—or worse, executed. Without a commander, the Wall will be leaderless when the final assault comes, and all our preparations will have been for nothing!”

Of course, there was a third option: he could pretend to agree, return to the Gift, and once his immediate tasks were complete, break his word. That way, at least, he wouldn’t be stranded thousands of miles from the Wall during the critical final battle.

But such a “dishonorable” escape, while convenient, would be catastrophic for his relationship with Daenerys. The Mother of Dragons might not launch a dragon-fueled manhunt over a single lie, but such a betrayal would sever any future connection with her. No matter who sat on the Iron Throne after the war for King’s Landing, Aegor would be left with a powerful enemy, making this the worst possible option.

“What are you so panicked about? The Mother of Dragons summoned the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, not a priestess. What right did I have to speak?” Melisandre replied, though even she seemed uneasy. “The queen must have misunderstood your intentions. I’ll speak with Moqorro tonight and figure out what happened.”

“Moqorro—that giant standing in the shadows by the queen’s throne?” Aegor asked, catching the name he hadn’t heard before. Realizing how quickly Melisandre had identified him, he felt a pang of suspicion. “Was it his idea for you to bring me to the Mother of Dragons? Do you red priests have some secret way of communicating? Forget it… I don’t want to press you about your internal workings. Just remember: whether or not Daenerys comes to aid the Gift doesn’t matter. What matters is that I cannot afford to be delayed here. If I don’t return to the Wall soon, it’ll all be over!”

After some discussion, Melisandre managed to calm Aegor down, persuading him to return to his quarters and wait for her to bring news. She, meanwhile, set off to make contact with the other red priest in the castle.

There was no pleasant dinner following the tense meeting with Daenerys. Aegor didn’t even touch the food sent from Dragonstone’s kitchens. Melisandre waited until night had fully fallen before leaving her room and making her way to a secluded tower, unguarded and out of sight. There, she met with Moqorro, who had been waiting for her.

One was a guest of the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, the other a trusted advisor of the Mother of Dragons. There was no need for their meeting to be so secretive—unless the stakes demanded it. For what was about to take place was not an ordinary conversation, but a private exchange between two high-ranking priests of R’hllor.
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The followers of R’hllor were countless, and red priests were plentiful, but to become a “high priest” required meeting two demanding criteria: first, mastery of magic and illusion; second, proof of two-way communication with R’hllor, recognized by their peers.

Two-way communication meant not only the passive ability to see visions in the flames but also the power to invoke miracles through prayer and sacrifice—and, critically, to convince other high priests that such events were genuine divine interventions, not mere tricks.

Many claimed to possess this ability, but the true challenge lay in convincing their fellow priests. Unlike the hierarchies of most faiths, the Red Temple had no “speaker” for R’hllor. Instead, the god communicated in fragmented, cryptic visions through flames, offering guidance that was slow, indirect, and often incoherent.

This decentralized structure created an egalitarian dynamic among the high priests. They had no supreme leader; decisions were made through discussion and majority rule. The High Priest of Volantis, Benerro, was called “High” not because he commanded them but because he was the most senior, his tricks the most refined, and his influence the most far-reaching.

Even so, Benerro’s authority was limited. He could assign tasks to priests like Moqorro and Melisandre, but they were free to disregard his orders if they believed R’hllor’s visions pointed elsewhere, so long as their actions didn’t disrupt the broader church.

It was by these means that Melisandre came to Dragonstone, convinced Azor Ahai awaited her there. Moqorro, in agreement with Benerro, had gone to Slaver’s Bay, lending his voice to Daenerys’s cause. With the majority of high priests supporting Daenerys as the prophesied savior, the temple’s resources and influence had been channeled toward her campaign, leaving Aegor without meaningful aid.

Yet even amidst these disagreements, the high priests never quarreled openly. Their visions, though fragmented, never directly contradicted one another. Truth was singular, and their debates centered on interpreting its pieces—whether to persuade or be persuaded, or to agree to disagree.

In stark contrast to the mystique they maintained before others, high priests spoke to one another with unflinching honesty, stripping away all pretense. Every word was deliberate and precise, ensuring no error or misunderstanding could creep into their exchanges. And because their conversations often involved dangerous secrets, they took every precaution to avoid being overheard—even by their own supposed chosen saviors.

Especially in a castle filled with those who were not their own.

Moqorro sensed Melisandre’s arrival without needing to turn around. “You’ve met the Mother of Dragons. What are your thoughts?”

“Unquestionably extraordinary,” Melisandre replied, stepping beside him to gaze out over Dragonstone’s harbor. Even at night, the queen’s fleet patrolled diligently, their lanterns twinkling across the water. “I’ve encountered others with Targaryen or Blackfyre blood before. They all have a certain… otherworldly quality. But none have made me feel anything like this. Is it your doing? How did you achieve it?”

“It’s not my doing,” Moqorro said firmly. “It’s fate’s design. She is Azor Ahai. Hers is the song of ice and fire.”

“Set aside the question of who the true savior is for now,” Melisandre said, her tone sharp. “Explain why the Targaryen girl behaved so strangely during the meeting today. Her words were erratic, almost incoherent. The gods are said to toss a coin for every Targaryen, to decide whether they will be mad or great. Is she the wrong side of the coin?”

“Not from what I’ve seen,” Moqorro answered, shaking his head. “Her unusual behavior today was my fault. I told her that her greatest potential follower was coming to meet her. She interrupted her schedule to meet your Lord Commander immediately, even changing into formal attire for the occasion. But he wasn’t there to swear loyalty, and the higher her expectations, the greater her disappointment—and embarrassment. Why didn’t he agree to her terms?”

“Her greatest follower? What makes you think that?”

“I saw him fighting alongside the queen in the flames.”

“I saw her using dragonfire to drive back the dead, but nothing more,” Melisandre replied curtly. She had seen countless priests make flawed predictions, mistaking their own desires for R’hllor’s will. Moqorro’s skill in magic might surpass her own, but in interpreting prophecy, she considered herself superior. She pressed him further. “It was impossible for Aegor to agree to the queen’s terms. You should have studied the political landscape of the Seven Kingdoms before bringing her back to Westeros. Do you even know the current situation in the North and the Gift?”

Moqorro showed no anger, nor did he question her certainty. Among high priests, certainty carried weight. If Melisandre declared something “impossible,” it was taken as fact.

And this fact was a problem.

“No, I don’t know. The situation in Westeros changes too quickly. My information is still from around the time of King Robert’s death. If the Lord Commander refuses to pledge loyalty to the queen, and the North opposes her, it will be almost impossible to persuade her to join the final battle.”

“That’s your problem,” Melisandre said bluntly. “If the queen doesn’t join the fight, then she isn’t Azor Ahai. You know this as well as I do. But I and the Lord Commander cannot afford to waste another day on Dragonstone. We must leave for King’s Landing by morning.”