FrenzyAren
patreon
SLW Chapter 83 : Time's Out
🕑 Added 2025-06-07 22:22:46 +0000 UTCCASTLE BLACK – THE WALL
The wind howled like a beast, sweeping across the top of the Wall with such ferocity that even the snow seemed to hiss. The sky above was the color of slate, bleak and endless, and the land beyond the Wall the true North was nothing but a pale wasteland of frost and silence.
Robb Stark stood beside Jon Snow atop the ancient Wall, both wrapped in thick black furs. Their cloaks whipped behind them, raven-black and snow-dusted, as they looked out over the expanse. Below, Castle Black buzzed with unlikely life: free folk tending fires, giants lumbering past Watchmen, the clang of steel echoing from the yard where wildlings and rangers trained together.
It was a sight neither man could have imagined in years past. Hell, a month past. Yet here they were, brothers on the edge of the world.
Robb’s breath steamed in the cold as he spoke.
“Is it true, brother?” he asked, voice low. “The dead are approaching?”
Jon didn’t answer right away. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon on that unmoving, frozen line where sky met land.
“Some of our scouts never returned,” Jon said quietly. “That’s your answer.”
Robb nodded, his expression tightening. He crossed his arms, his wolf-fur mantle folding in closer.
“We’ve allowed as many wildlings into the North as we could,” he said. “It wasn’t easy convincing the bannermen. You know how they are. Proud men, suspicious of anything that doesn’t sound like the old ways.” He let out a faint, humorless laugh. “But they agreed in the end. Not for love of me, I think. They saw what happened to Roose Bolton… and I fear they obeyed more from fear of Aeron Grim than loyalty to House Stark.”
Jon chuckled, the sound dry as the wind. “I can’t blame them. He does scare me, too.”
That earned a proper laugh from Robb. “Well… that’s something, coming from you Lord snow.”
Jon smirked, but his eyes remained grim. “Someone with that kind of power… Maybe that’s what the realm needs. Not another lord with pretty words. A true sword. One that will strike when needed.”
Robb looked down at Castle Black, the strange harmony of wildling and Watch forming slowly, painfully.
“I can’t deny it,” he said. “The place is different now. I passed giants on my way through the yard. Giants, Jon. And wildlings mending walls. Training with brothers of the Watch. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Aeron forced a change, we do have a common enemy after all.” Jon said.
“True enough,” Robb muttered. Then he glanced sideways. “But what of the Lord Commander? I haven’t seen him since I set foot here. The men say he left days ago.”
Jon nodded, finally pulling his eyes from the white expanse. “They went ranging. Took a sizeable force. Rangers, wildlings, some of the old Watch veterans. Mance Rayder went with them.”
“Mance,” Robb said, surprised. “their leader right.”
“Still stubborn,” Jon replied with a smirk. “But useful. He knows the land, the people. They’re not looking for wights, not yet. They're looking for survivors any alive folk hiding beyond the Wall before it’s too late. And of course not to give them any more soldiers.”
Robb narrowed his eyes, watching the horizon again. “Were they armed as instructed by Aeron?”
“Yes,” Jon said. “Firespitters, dragonglass blades and spears. Most of it shipped straight from Dragonstone.”
Robb let out a slow breath. “Let’s hope he’s right. About the weapons. About all of it.”
Jon didn’t answer right away. He looked out into that terrible stillness one more time past the frost, past the ruined outposts and dead forests. Somewhere out there, the Night stirred again. And they were the last light standing.
“Aye,” he said finally. “Let’s hope.”
The word echoed in the frost-thick silence, then faded like breath on glass.
But something shifted.
A subtle ripple moved beneath Jon’s feet, quiet as a whisper but wrong cold in a way that had nothing to do with the wind. A slither of black smoke, almost liquid, poured outward from Jon’s own shadow, crawling with unnatural grace across the icy stone.
Robb drew a breath, his hand twitching instinctively toward his sword, though he didn’t unsheathe it.
The shadow rose, stretching and twisting, forming limbs, a face, armor a silent warrior of dark mist and fireless flame. Its eyes glowed faintly, not like a man, but like an omen. It bowed once, then dissolved into smoke again.
And then he was there.
Aeron Grim stepped forward, the shadow mist drawing back like a curtain. His boots crunched softly on the frost-rimed stones. His long black coat fluttered in the wind, and his presence sharp, heavy, unnatural rolled over them.
His eyes glowed that unholy violet, glowing in his pale face.
“Hope?” he repeated, voice calm, low and hard . “Everything I’ve told you is true. Hope will not help you defeat your enemies.”
He stepped closer, looking between the brothers. “Only strength will.”
Robb narrowed his eyes, his voice tight. “Aeron.”
Aeron turned his gaze toward him, cold. “Not a good thing, Robb Stark, to lie to your brother about what you planned to do here.”
Jon glanced at Robb, frowning. “Lied? About what?”
Robb didn’t blink, but there was a flicker of guilt in his face. “Your presence that day in Winterfell already made my people panic, fear and alarmed.” he said, his voice firm but edged with weariness. “I can’t tell them that death is marching from the north. You’d have every northern hall filled with fear and madness. Better they’re armed and unaware than helpless and terrified. At least for now since the enemy isn’t showing himself or itself or whatever that thing is.”
Aeron took a slow breath, his gaze not accusing just cold, calculating.
“You have nothing to fear,” he said. “I’ve already promised you and the entire North, when the Night King shows himself, I will deal with him. I cannot allow him to venture south.”
With that, Aeron strode past them toward the edge of the Wall, his black cloak rippling like wings behind him. He looked out over the North, that endless white sea of death and silence.
His violet eyes narrowed.
“I can’t sense the bastard, that’s the problem.” he murmured. “So he needs to show himself first.”
From his shadow, the ground rippled once more and a sound like rustling silk filled the air. Long, lean shapes burst from the black shadow beneath him. Shadow wyverns. Six of them. Born from darkness, wings spread wide, blacker than a starless sky.
They hissed softly, as if impatient, and then took to the skies with supernatural grace, heading northward, vanishing into the distance like smoke in the wind.
Jon stared, speechless.
Robb exhaled a slow breath, shaking his head.
“I can’t get used to this,” Jon muttered, eyes still fixed on the sky.
Aeron didn’t turn. “Well, you will.”
Then, a pause.
“I have a matter to attend to,” Aeron said, his voice already fading, “then I’ll return here again shortly.”
Robb looked at him sharply. “You’ll disappear again?”
Aeron turned then, slowly. His face was calm, but his eyes burned brighter, like amethyst set aflame.
He smiled.
But there was no warmth in it.
“A certain person,” he said softly, “ran out of time… you see.”
And then he vanished folding into the wind, a black mist whisked away, Only his shadow soldier remained in his place.
Robb stared into the shadow creature and where the Shadow Monarch had stood just moments ago.
Jon let out a low breath.
“This realm really has changed since father passed.” Robb murmured.
“No,” Jon said. “It’s changing still.”
“Any idea who might be this person he’s talking about?” Robb asked, more to himself than anyone.
Jon didn’t answer right away. He stood with arms folded, watching the shadows left behind by the wyverns slowly dissolve in the sky. Then he turned, his eyes meeting his brother’s.
“I don’t know,” Jon said quietly. “But one thing I know is...Gods help him...”
There was weight in his voice, not just pity, but understanding. A grim respect for whatever fate awaited the poor soul Aeron had set his sights on.
