FrenzyAren
patreon
SLW Chapter 94 : Game of Deception
🕑 Added 2025-06-29 21:55:21 +0000 UTCThe people stood still. Eyes wide. Many crossed themselves in fear.
Men whispered. Women clutched babes. Children stared, wide-eyed, tugging at their mothers’ skirts. The guards kept the crowd from spilling forward, blades drawn, uneasy.
And then, he stepped forward.
Tywin Lannister.
Or so the people believed.
Aeron, clad in the lion’s visage, took the platform with the weight of a man used to command. The red-and-gold cloak shifted in the wind. His gaze swept over the masses sharp and calculating Then, his voice boomed across the square, cutting through the noise like a blade.
“There is no heir to the throne.”
A pause.
His voice lowered, but it did not lose its weight.
“Order will soon return. And with it, peace. You will be protected, you will be fed. The realm will heal.” He looked to the rubble once more.
“From this day forward, the rule of King’s Landing falls to those worthy of it. The great houses will no longer play with crowns like toys passed between children. The time of boy-kings and scheming queens is over. The crown will be returned to its former glory.”
The crowd stilled.
“Tommen Baratheon has abandoned the throne. He is gone. The Iron Throne sits empty.”
A tremor of disbelief rippled through the square.
“There will be no coronation. No son of a great house will be anointed in haste. Not this time.”
People turned to one another in confusion. Murmurs became questions. Disbelief became shock. And yet, none dared interrupt.
“For too long,” he continued, voice slow and grave, “Ever since the end of the Targaryen dynasty, the great houses have treated the crown like a simple tool, squabbling while the realm bled. No longer. The throne is not theirs to claim. noy the Tyrells, noy the Martells, nor any house who thinks blood alone makes them fit to rule. My house included. And I’m also guilty of that.”
Even Kevan Lannister, standing nearby, shifted uncomfortably. He blinked hard, his mouth parting slightly. This wasn’t what Tywin would say, even though he knew it’s Aeron, he did not expect him to say these words. as it would mean the end of the house Lannister.
The guards, too, exchanged glances, hands tightening on their spears. Whispers among the ranks.
“Is that really the Lord Hand?”
“What’s he saying?”
“The gods help us… is he mad?”
And yet the people did not revolt. They cheered.
Because they were ignorant. Because the voice had the tone of power. Because they feared chaos more than they feared truth.
‘How gullible,’ Aeron thought, his expression unreadable beneath his visual deception.
He raised a hand once more.
“And yet…” he said, “just so it happens… there is one worthy.”
The murmurs halted like a blade had dropped.
“There have been lies spread among you,” he went on. “Of threats from the east. Of the dragon queen and the monarch of shadows, names whispered like curses around here. They said these were your enemies. That they would burn your homes, enslave your children, and tear your realm apart.”
He paused.
“These lies were fed to you by the crown… by your king. By me.”
Gasps echoed. Even Kevan’s mouth dropped slightly. He wanted to shut Aeron up, but he couldn’t.
“As the Hand of the King,” Aeron said, slower now, his voice steeped in regret, “I sanctioned the rumors. I approved the slander. I turned your eyes to the east while rot and hunger festered here in the capital. I led you into a blind war. Into death.”
Silence. Real silence.
The kind that made even the Goldcloaks lower their weapons. And focus on his words rather than the masses, a silence that made maesters go still. That made priests forget their prayers.
Kevan stepped forward slightly, eyes narrowing, whispering to Aeron.
“Lord Aeron…” he said, unsure. “What are you... Do you understand what this would mean for us?”
But Aeron still Tywin to all the world, ignored him.
“And now…” he said. “The truth comes.”
A long beat.
“The dragon queen, Daenerys Stormborn, seeks not to destroy you, but to free you. The Monarch of Shadows… seeks not dominion, but order. While they have enough strength to destroy the realm, they did not do so.”
He let that sink in.
“They are not your enemies. They are your salvation.”
Then came the murmurs.
A ripple at first like the sea pulling back before a wave.
“They brought peace to the North,” someone muttered.
“I heard they took the Reach without blood,” said another.
"She has dragons!" cried a woman near the front, eyes wide with awe.
“They say the shadow man saved Winterfell...”
One voice became a chorus. Another heartbeat, and the crowd many of whom had never even seen the boy king nor known real peace began to cheer.
“Long live the Dragon Queen!”
“Long live the Shadow King!”
And louder still
“DOWN WITH THE BARATHEONS!”
“DOWN WITH THE LIARS!”
“DEATH TO FALSE KINGS!”
Aeron, still wearing Tywin’s face, allowed the moment to grow. He stood there, unmoving, regal yet behind the illusion, his mind was already calculating.
Then he raised his voice again. This time, it carried not authority, but something rarer from the Lion of Casterly Rock, contrition.
“I, as Hand of the King, accept whatever punishment the true ruler may decree upon me.”
A hush swept again, but it was not the same reverence.
“I have stained my name. My house. I allowed pride to rule where reason should have reigned. I fed lies to a starving realm, poisoned the well with my own hand.”
He paused. A flicker of performance in his voice.
“My house hoarded power. And now we must pay the cost for it. I do not ask for forgiveness. Only that the realm might rise cleaner in our place.”
A moment passed.
Then the wind shifted.
And so did the crowd.
“Liar!”
“You expect us to let you go free now ?”
“Traitor!”
A rock flew past Aeron’s shoulder, grazing the cloak.
Another struck the steps beside him.
“Death to Lannisters!”
“Death to Baratheons!”
“They burned us! Starved us! They want to save themselves now that we’ve nothing left!”
And just like that the cheers became hate. Aeron stood still in the storm of shouting, his expression composed, though inwardly
‘Five seconds ago they were cheering… and now they want Tywin's death. The way they turn on their rulers like carrion birds switching perch. Honestly scary… damn.’
He turned silently, descending the stairs from the sept’s broken entrance, flanked by guards who now looked just as uneasy with the mob as they did with him.
Kevan Lannister, face pale, pushed past a column of Goldcloaks and intercepted him.
“What now?” he snapped, whispering to Aeron but his voice trembling with rage and something near disbelief. “You've tainted my dead brother's name. Our house. Was that your game? To wear his face and twist the knife?”
Aeron turned, slowly.
His violet gaze gleamed beneath Tywin’s mask.
“What I said was the truth, Lannister,” he said calmly, voice like silk drawn over steel. “Perhaps my method was... unconventional. But then again, your brother rarely concerned himself with convention, only outcome. So, you could say I did brilliantly just now.”
He stepped closer, his voice low and measured.
“Of course Tywin would never admit to any of it. He would burn half the realm just to keep his name clean. But the lies... the hunger... the rot that came from the throne he built.”
A pause. Then, softly, as if amused:
“The truth, revealed through deception. Ironic, really. I played your game... and won. Now all of you should abandon the capital take your men and leave, return to the westerlands while I allow it.”
Kevan clenched his jaw, face reddening.
Aeron turned again to leave.
Then, just before he stepped beyond earshot, he stopped still facing away, voice casual as if remarking on the weather.
“Oh. As for your house...” he said, “I’m sure you’ll hear something... soon.”
He took a single step, then added, without turning:
“If I were you, I’d stay far from Casterly Rock. I hear it’s terrible this time of year... the heat and all that.”
He strode off into the crowd, shadow guards silently falling in behind him, cloaked in darkness.
Kevan stood frozen.
His breath caught.
“No…” he whispered, eyes darting westward, lips bloodless.
The color drained from his face.
He understood.
Not just the meaning of the words but the depth of their truth.
“Casterly Rock…”
And suddenly, he felt cold despite the sun.
