Chapter 480

If Aegor had studied Valyrian history or even skimmed through the Dragonlord’s Manual that Daenerys obtained in Asshai, he might have immediately understood the origins of the mysterious woman after she introduced herself.

But he hadn’t.

As a transmigrator, he could hardly be expected to know background lore that even the original author hadn’t finished. And as a man of great responsibilities in Westeros, he had neither the time nor interest to delve into the history of a long-dead empire across the Narrow Sea.

Thus, his knowledge of "Foster" was limited to vague recollections—it was a name he might have heard in passing as belonging to a notable Valyrian family. Beyond that, he had no clue.

He didn’t know that "Foster" was the surname of the most ancient and revered of the forty Dragonlord families of Valyria, commonly referred to as the "Primeval Dragonlords." He didn’t know that every dragonlord bloodline—be it Targaryen, Velaryon, or those who had perished in the Doom of Valyria—could trace their ancestry back to a Foster. He also didn’t know that throughout Valyria’s long history, the Fosters had always been at the top of the hierarchy, a family of rare and unmatched members, exalted above all others, untouchable even by the fiercest political rivalries.

Aegor’s ignorance was almost comical. He knew nothing of her surname, but even if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered. What truly stunned him was the name she claimed for herself.

The woman who appeared in his dream had introduced herself as R’hllor, the Lord of Light, the God of Shadow and Flame.
----


Aegor’s understanding of "gods" in this world had gone through a complicated evolution.

In the original A Song of Ice and Fire novels and their television adaptation, no god ever appeared directly, nor did any exhibit unequivocal miracles. Everything attributed to divine intervention was simply someone shouting, “This was the will of the gods!”—with no evidence to back it up. Back in his previous life, Aegor had believed that R’hllor, the Old Gods, the Many-Faced God, and all the other deities were nothing more than myths crafted by mortals. They were tools for those in power—cunning sorcerers, schemers, or rulers who used these "gods" to justify their actions, manipulate the masses, or intimidate their enemies.

This theory explained much of what he’d seen, but his experience after transmigrating to Westeros forced him to reevaluate.

Early on, Aegor noticed something unsettling: no matter how hard he tried to interfere, key events in the story seemed destined to happen. Waymar Royce’s doomed encounter with the White Walkers, Benjen Stark’s disappearance beyond the Wall, and even Bran Stark’s fall from the tower—every time Aegor attempted to change the outcome, his efforts failed miserably.

At one point, he seriously began to suspect the existence of some "higher power" forcing the plot to stay on track.

This grim realization was deeply demoralizing—until subsequent events disproved it. While major events could be disrupted, the degree of success seemed tied to his proximity to the "storm's eye," his relationships with key players, and his increasing influence. His failures were not the result of some omnipotent narrative force but rather his own lack of power or timing.

From this, Aegor concluded that "gods" in Westeros might indeed exist, but they were not sentient beings with agendas. Instead, they were chaotic forces—like R’hllor and the Great Other—that acted instinctively, opposing one another in a perpetual, unconscious struggle. These forces might influence the world indirectly, but they were not omniscient entities meddling with individuals’ lives.

This conclusion had served him well. Relying on logic and bold pragmatism, Aegor had risen from an insignificant black brother to one of Westeros’ most influential figures. His ability to sidestep the "gods" and bend fate to his will had been a key to his success.

Yet now, a silver-haired woman stood before him in his dream, claiming to be none other than R’hllor.

Was she truly who she claimed to be? And if so, was her appearance here her true form, or a guise meant to disarm him? Most importantly, what did she want?
----


Aegor’s mind raced with questions, but he refrained from voicing them. Dreams were meaningless as evidence, and there was no sense in challenging someone he clearly couldn’t overpower. His best move was to play along and hear her out.

“It is an honor to meet you, Lady R’hllor,” Aegor said, bowing slightly, his tone deferential. He thought he’d left the days of feigning submission behind, but now even a supposed god had come knocking. “What can I do for you?”

“Plenty,” the woman replied, her tone softening as she saw him finally abandon his dream manipulations to listen. “But most of it, you’ve already done. The rest isn’t urgent—at least, not tonight. Let’s set that aside. As my most valuable mortal ally in the battle against what you call the Great Other, I’ve decided to reward you for your contributions.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile. “Your first reward is a piece of advice: when you go beyond the Wall, do not venture past the Frostfangs or the northernmost lakes of the Haunted Forest. Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to push further in search of new lands or to permanently end the threat.”

Aegor stiffened but said nothing.

“I know what you’re thinking: ‘I never planned to launch a real expedition beyond the Wall—it’s all a ruse. How could even a god be fooled?’” She chuckled, her laughter light but piercing. “I’m no god, Aegor. I’m merely a being who’s been deified by mortals. But remember this: some people may not be gods, yet when their gaze falls upon a mortal, they might as well be. Right now, you’re that mortal.”

She paused to let her words sink in before continuing. “I understand your schemes and strategies perfectly, but my warning still stands. Someday, should curiosity or ambition tempt you to explore the farthest reaches of this world, resist that temptation. What lies beyond is not meant for you.”

Aegor opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off.

“Let me guess: you’re wondering if this is some ploy to protect my own interests or if I’m secretly allied with the Great Other.” Her violet eyes gleamed with amusement. “To ease your doubts, your second reward is a story—a true one. A story that will explain everything. Don’t underestimate this reward. You’re the only mortal in this world who will ever hear it. Not even my most devout followers would dream of being granted such a privilege.”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression inscrutable. “Now, ask me why I call myself the ‘Daughter of True Dragons.’”

Aegor hesitated, his pride resisting her insistence on this back-and-forth game. But he wasn’t foolish. Whatever pride he had as a “self-made man” in Westeros meant little in the face of a being who could enter his dreams and overpower him in his own domain.

He relented. “Why do you call yourself the Daughter of True Dragons?”

“Because my mother was a dragon,” R’hllor replied matter-of-factly. “A true dragon.”

Seeing Aegor’s puzzled expression, she elaborated. “Not the beasts your queen raised—those are nothing but oversized lizards with wings. No offense to Daenerys, but my mother would have scoffed at the notion of calling them ‘dragons.’ She was a higher being—intelligent, wise, capable of speech and magic. She could shift between human and dragon forms at will. That’s what it means to be a true dragon. When Valyrians claim to have dragon blood, they’re speaking quite literally.”

Aegor blinked, struggling to process this revelation. If such beings existed, why hadn’t anyone in Westeros heard of them?

“My mother was the last of her kind,” R’hllor explained, her voice tinged with an odd mix of pride and melancholy. “She wasn’t born here. She came to this world by accident, exiled through a temporal rift while carrying me in her womb. So tell me, Aegor, did you really think you were the first—or the only—outsider to find their way to this world?”

Her words struck like a hammer. The revelation that another being—one so powerful—had also crossed worlds was shocking enough. But more than that, she had casually revealed the secret he guarded most jealously: that he himself was an outsider.

His voice trembled as he asked the one question that now consumed him. “Then how did I end up in this world? And... is there any way back?”