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SLW Chapter 87 : A Better Realm
🕑 Added 2025-06-15 21:59:10 +0000 UTCThe Conqueror’s crown still rested on Aeron’s head, its iron glinting in the firelight like a thing reborn out of a myth. Silence lingered in the chamber. But Aeron did not rise with arrogance or pride. He stood slowly, carefully, as if the gravity of what had just passed was not lost on him.
His violet eyes lifted to Daenerys.
“I don’t take this lightly,” he said, his voice low and solemn, but steady. “A crown… power… it corrupts most men. Burns others alive from within. But I’m not most men.”
He took her hands gently, eyes locking with hers. “You trusted me when you didn’t need to. You believed in me when I gave you little reason to.... or maybe through fear initially.” Aeron laughed. “But I will do everything in my power to be worthy of that trust.” Aeron added.
His tone shifted, softening for a heartbeat. “Even if the world crumbles… even if everyone turns against me… I will not falter. I promise you, I will try to ear this crown. Every day.”
She smiled faintly at that something warm and unreadable flashing in her eyes.
But Aeron had already begun to turn. His cloak stirred behind him like restless smoke, the shadows at his boots curling as if they longed to move.
“Now… about Dorne’s request.”
He spoke it almost as an afterthought, pacing slowly along the edge of the Painted Table, his fingers brushing the carved ridges of Westeros. When he came to the region marked “Dorne,” he halted.
“I have already fulfilled it.”
The words dropped into the chamber like stones in deep water.
Tyrion’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, fulfilled it. They seek to have justice from my father. Either by trial or...”
Daenerys blinked, her voice quieter, a touch more cautious. “You… did?”
Aeron didn’t answer not with words. Instead, he stood still as a statue, his eyes flickering with violet light. The shadows beneath him darkened unnaturally. Then from that inky void, a figure rose.
A shadow knight fully armored, its helm shaped like some nightmare’s grin. It stood silent for a moment, then turned and reached into the void it had come from.
It pulled forth a severed head.
The knight walked forward and, without ceremony, dropped it with a dull thud on the stone floor.
The air in the room froze.
Missandei gasped sharply, a hand flying to her mouth.
Jorah Mormont took a reflexive step forward, his eyes drifting toward the head trying to figure out his features, and he did.
Varys said nothing his eyes wide, mouth barely parted. But the way he shifted, almost imperceptibly, said more than any words could.
And Tyrion…
Tyrion stared.
The face was unmistakable.
Tywin Lannister.
Still and pale, features fixed in that same cold, judging scowl even in death. A lion silenced. The architect of the realm's most ruthless age, now reduced to a grisly token at the feet of vengeance.
Tyrion blinked, as if trying to wake from a dream. Then his mouth twitched into a grim line.
“I suppose....” he said softly, “it would’ve led to this one way or another.”
Daenerys took a half step closer to Aeron, her voice laced with a quiet sort of awe. “You… killed the Lannister already ?”
Aeron turned to face them all, his cloak sweeping behind him. His eyes burned as they fixed on the severed head.
“The old lady Tyrell was right,” he said. “He would never kneel. Would never serve anyone not even a better realm. I gave him time. Time to choose his house over his pride. He refused.”
He looked up, gaze sweeping across them all.
“So I chose for him. And I didn’t just end the man. I ended what he stood for.”
A beat passed.
“The lions roared for too long, arrogantly.”
Tyrion took a long breath and nodded once, just once. Not approval. Not celebration. Just understanding.
“I Just... hope,” he murmured, “that this will be for a better realm.”
the torches guttered low as if bowing before the shift of power that had just occurred.
Tyrion’s eyes remained on the stone floor.
Aeron, his gaze steady, turned toward the Painted Table toward Westeros carved in wood and steeped in history. “The moment I returned here,” Aeron said, calm as if speaking of the weather, “I already sent the Cannibal.”
The room stilled.
Daenerys’s eyes widened slightly. “The Cannibal...?” Her voice trailed, and she tilted her head slightly as if listening. Then her brows creased. “He stopped roaring. I hadn’t noticed until now.”
“Where to?” she asked.
Aeron’s violet eyes pulsed with a dim inner light as he replied, “Casterly Rock.”
There was no flair, no dramatic weight in his voice. Just a cold certainty, like a sentence passed.
Tyrion flinched. He opened his mouth then closed it. His jaw tightened, and he looked away. He could argue. He could plead. But the truth had settled in his chest like ash in wine. they had already been granted time more than his house deserved. And Tywin had spent that time sharpening his pride rather than seeking peace.
His silence said everything.
Aeron stepped forward “On the Cannibal’s back are my shadow soldiers,” he continued. “They will ensure no innocents are harmed once he arrives. Only soldiers. Only the Rock itself. Their ancestral seat will fall, and with it, their entire influence over this realm.”
He paused, then added, voice sharp, “No sons. No daughters. No women, No children of war. Just those carry swords.”
He turned to the Painted Table, placing a hand upon it. His fingers grazed the model of the capital, his gaze narrowing.
“As for the Crownlands... Raya and Grey Worm ride with the Tyrell host. They should be nearing the gates of KingsLanding by now.”
He looked up slowly, addressing the room.
“They will not strike immediately. They will offer surrender. A full day. If the city yields, we enter peacefully. If they resist, the shadow assassins I left within Raya’s shadow will silence the city from the inside. No burning. No chaos. No screaming. Just... silence. And then the armies will take the gates.”
Missandei looked troubled. Jorah’s brow furrowed. Varys’s voice, however, cut the air next.
“It does seem like a good plan, Your Grace,” the Spider said carefully, “though I fear the realm doesn’t see you in a good light. Especially after... what happened in the crownlands, you should know that...”
His gaze flicked once to Tywin’s head.
Aeron didn’t blink.
“I know what he did,” he said flatly. “Tywin worked quickly. Poisoned tongues. False witnesses. Random attacks on peasants and villages, Whispers seeded among frightened lords and commonfolk alike. He sought to turn fear into a wall against me.”
He smiled. Just slightly. It wasn’t a pleasant smile.
“But I have eyes. And shadows. Soldiers scattered across the realm. I hear more than ravens bring; he clearly underestimated me.”
He turned, his violet eyes glinting beneath the firelight, his gaze falling on Varys.
“And the people of KingsLanding? They change their minds faster than the wind changes direction. They cursed Robert as a usurper. Then praised him as savior. They cheered Joffrey. Then spat on his corpse. They want food. Peace. A name they can sing. It's really not a challenge to change how they see things.”
Varys looked as if he wanted to argue. But in the end, he simply inclined his head.
“You’re not wrong.”
Silence followed until Aeron stepped back from the table, hands clasped behind his back.
“But,” he said at last, “I have another plan.”
They all turned to him.
“Something I didn’t want to use.”
Daenerys narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”
Aeron’s face was unreadable, his voice slow.
“A way to fool the people, it’s an ability I have right now, something a person like Cersei would use. If she ever gets her hands on.”
