NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter 159: Shiera Seastar
That wretched Aegon IV—his life was nothing but a cycle of indulgence in food, drink, sleep, and women. Not only did he scatter his seed across the realm, but before his death, he also committed one final, grievous act: legitimizing all his bastards, giving them a claim to the throne. The root of the Blackfyre Rebellion lies with him. Because of his reckless actions, Shiera Seastar's claim to be Viserys' great-grandmother wasn’t far-fetched.
"So, you really are Shiera Seastar?" Viserys asked, deciding it would be wise not to provoke her without knowing her true strength.
"What? Are you just going to chat with me here?" she teased, her voice laced with a strange allure. Viserys felt a deep urge to leave, but this woman was far too enigmatic to ignore. If she had found him so easily, she could become a serious threat in the future. It would be better to uncover her intentions now, so he could prepare.
Under Shiera's guidance, they arrived at a small, exquisite courtyard. In the center stood a Weirwood tree, which struck Viserys as particularly odd. The faith of the Red God had spread across the continent, and the Greenseer's faith had long since faded, yet here it was, thriving in this hidden corner. Two bed slaves attended to them, their faces marked with tear tattoos, indicating they had likely been bought from Volantis. It seemed they also served Shiera in other ways.
Shiera poured Viserys a glass of pale green mead. Although the color was unusual, it was a specialty of Myr. Viserys paid little attention to the drink’s hue; his mind was consumed by questions about Shiera.
How had she recognized him? How had she found him? And most perplexing of all—how had she maintained her youthful beauty for over a century? Rumor had it that Shiera’s mother, Serenei, also appeared far younger than her years, possibly due to blood magic. Some even whispered that she bathed in blood to preserve her youth. Viserys decided to start with the least sensitive question.
"How did you recognize me, Lady Shiera?" he asked, choosing to address her with a title that acknowledged her seniority.
Shiera leaned back in her chair, her silk garments outlining her seductive curves. "Does it matter?"
"It does if you want something from me. Surely you won’t deny me the satisfaction of satisfying my curiosity," he replied. Despite himself, Viserys felt a growing pressure in her presence. There was something unnerving about a woman who had lived for over a hundred years. Her eyes, deep and mysterious, seemed to beckon him into their depths.
"Don’t you want to know how I’ve kept my appearance unchanged for over a century?" she asked, her tone almost playful.
"Birth, aging, sickness, and death are natural. Defying them must come at a great cost," Viserys observed. For a brief moment, Shiera’s expression faltered, but then she smiled again.
"You're very perceptive, Viserys. That's one of the reasons I sought you out."
"Me?" Viserys was bewildered. What could he possibly have to do with immortality?
But Shiera's next words left him utterly speechless.
"Viserys, make me pregnant."
"What?"
As soon as Shiera spoke those words, the Weirwood tree at the center of the courtyard trembled. A gust of wind swept through, carrying away all sound, leaving the courtyard eerily silent. The bed slaves standing nearby seemed oblivious, as if they hadn't heard anything.
Viserys realized that this situation was spiraling into the absurd. He needed to regain control. "You're incredibly beautiful, Lady Shiera. I remember that both Bittersteel and Bloodraven pursued you once. Has it really been over a hundred years since you've... with anyone? Why me?"
Shiera's response sent a chill down his spine. "None of them had pure Dragonlord blood. Only you can continue our existence."
Her voice was unsettling, as if a dozen or more women were speaking in unison. Each voice was beautiful, but the effect was unnerving, coming from a single mouth.
Viserys realized something was off. "Wait, 'continue our existence'? You’re not just Shiera, are you? Are you Serenei of Lys? Or are you both sharing a body?"
The realization hit him like a wave of dread. It felt as though he was sitting before some indescribable eldritch entity, and the instinct to flee surged within him. Yet he remained seated, unsure if he could even stand up, let alone run.
Shiera smiled, her voice returning to normal. "You're clever, but not entirely correct," she said. "I am Shiera, but I’ve retained the memories and habits of my previous selves. If you help me, I’ll share with you the secrets of Valyria. I'll start with myself."
Shiera explained that her mother’s house had always possessed a unique trait. After a mother gave birth, she would die, but part of her memories, habits, and consciousness would pass into the child. These memories would gradually awaken as the child grew.
Shiera's first mother had lived during the time of Valyria. Over the centuries, these women became living "human history books," carrying the memories of past generations. Shiera claimed to remember significant events from the last 3,500 years of Valyrian history as vividly as if she had witnessed them herself. She offered to share these secrets with Viserys if he agreed to help her.
She also hinted at more advanced blood magic she could teach him in exchange for his assistance.
The offer was tempting. Viserys could indulge himself, gain knowledge of Valyria's secrets, and even learn powerful magic. But he knew it couldn't be that simple. Shiera was a creature with thousands of years of accumulated knowledge, who had likely manipulated countless others. What if she used her blood magic on him when they discussed the origin of life?
"Lady Shiera, please wait a moment," Viserys said, standing up and turning his back to her. He intended to use the Moon's Revelation to assess if she posed a danger.
However, to his surprise, the "Moon of Revelation" in his mind wouldn't coalesce, meaning the divination had failed. This had never happened before. He turned back to Shiera, his expression grave, but she merely smiled, as if nothing was amiss.
"Lady Shiera, what if I can't help you?"
Her smile remained, but her tone grew colder. "Then I will do whatever it takes. I must survive."
"But you've lived for nearly 4,000 years. Aren't you tired of it?"
For a brief moment, Shiera’s ever-present smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of despondence. "Yes, you're right..." she began, her voice tinged with weariness. But before the words could fully settle, several other voices—distinct and feminine—cut in sharply from within her.
"No! You don't understand!" Shiera began to argue with herself, each voice battling for dominance.
"Continue! This is our mission!"
"No! I'm too tired. Let’s end it here. Valyria is gone."
"But the world still exists! We continue until the end!"
"Valyria is gone. What’s the point anymore?"
Suddenly, Shiera's head snapped toward Viserys, her eyes wild as she spoke in a chorus of voices, "Viserys, kill me!"
Her expression shifted again as other voices shouted, "No! No!"
Viserys watched, alarmed as the situation unraveled before him. He hadn't realized that his simple question would fracture Shiera's psyche so deeply, leaving her torn between a desperate will to survive and a longing for release.
