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SLW Chapter 53 : Bound for Dragonstone
🕑 Added 2025-04-03 22:11:55 +0000 UTCMeereen Docks -
The salty breeze carried the scent of the open sea as the fleet of Meereen readied to set sail. The Unsullied stood in disciplined rows upon the decks, the Dothraki restless, their hands gripping the hilts of their arakhs, eager for the bloodletting to come. Above them, Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion circled the skies, their shadows casting dark omens over the city they were about to leave behind.
In the heart of the grand flagship, Aeron and Daenerys stood surrounded by her most trusted advisors. Jorah, arms crossed and face carved with suspicion. Missandei, ever dutiful, standing close to her queen. Grey Worm, silent but watchful, a warrior always ready for the worst.
Aeron leaned back in his chair, one leg over the other, fingers tapping idly on the obsidian table. His violet eyes gleamed with cold amusement. "Westeros is weak," he stated, his voice smooth yet carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "They squabble, they bleed each other dry. No king holds absolute power, no great house stands unchallenged. And those who might have tipped the balance? I made sure they wouldn't."
Daenerys watched him, her lilac eyes narrowing. "You’ve already interfered in the game?"
Aeron chuckled. "I played the game before you even set sail. Some were… inconvenient. So I removed them. Others, I left in place, kept them clawing at each other. House Stark, House Lannister, House Tyrell, even what remains of the Baratheons, each believes they can win, but none of them can." His smile turned razor-sharp. "We can."
Jorah stood firm, his expression carved from stone, but his unease was evident. His queen, his Daenerys, was aligning herself with a man unlike any he had ever seen before. Aeron was no mere conqueror, no ambitious warlord with dreams of power. He was something else entirely. A force.
"And what of the lords of Westeros?" Jorah pressed, his voice edged with concern. "What of those who have ruled for generations? You believe they will simply bow to you because you arrive with dragons?"
Aeron exhaled, shaking his head. "You still don’t understand, do you?" His violet eyes gleamed with something primal, something ancient. "Men did not make Aegon king. Dragons did."
The words hung in the air like a storm waiting to break. The weight of them sent a shiver down the spines of those present.
Daenerys’ lips parted slightly, her gaze locked onto Aeron as if seeing him in a new light.
Aeron continued, his voice measured but unyielding. "Aegon did not write letters begging the lords of Westeros for support. He did not play their little games of alliances and betrayals. He set foot upon Dragonstone with fire in his blood and a vision in his heart. And when he unleashed Balerion upon the battlefield, the realm did not ask whether it should kneel, it fell to its knees in terror."
Daenerys slowly leaned forward, resting her arms on the table, her eyes burning with something close to admiration. "That… is the truth," she murmured.
Aeron smirked, knowing he had her attention completely. "Lords, banners, oaths, they mean nothing when shadow and fire descend upon their castles. When I ride Cannibal into battle, when you command Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, the world will remember why dragons rule."
Jorah frowned, shaking his head. "Fear will only take you so far. Aegon united the Seven Kingdoms, he did not burn them all to the ground."
Aeron’s smirk remained. "And yet he burned Harrenhal to ash and made the Ironborn kneel in their own ruins." His gaze locked onto Jorah’s, sharp as a blade. "Fear was the foundation upon which Aegon built his empire. Love came later. If the lords of Westeros wish to be spared, they will kneel. If they resist, they will burn. Just as it was before. Just as it should be again."
Daenerys studied him, her lips curving ever so slightly into a knowing smile. There was no denying the fire in his words, the raw, unshakable truth of them.
She straightened, tilting her head slightly. "Spoken like a true dragon, but we still need to seek peace first."
Aeron met her gaze, his smirk turning into something more, a quiet promise of the storm they were about to unleash.
Jorah exhaled, defeated but unwilling to press further. He could see it in her eyes. His queen had made up her mind.
Missandei, ever the voice of logic, spoke next. "And what of King’s Landing?"
Aeron leaned forward, his expression darkening. "I could take it anytime. The Red Keep is a cage of fools, Cersei, Tywin, Varys, Baelish. Some of them would rather die than surrender, and I am more than happy to grant them that wish."
Daenerys tilted her head. "Then why haven't you?"
Aeron’s smile returned, slow and cruel. "Because I want to see what Tywin does first. He’s the only one who truly understands the realms and how they operate and I want him to serve. He will either kneel to us… or I will reduce the Westerlands to cinders." His voice dipped, cold as death. "And when Lannisport burns and the gold mines of Casterly Rock are buried beneath fire, the last lion will see the truth, that no scheme, no war chest of gold, no web of spies will save him from what I bring."
The cabin fell silent. The waves outside rocked the ship gently, but inside, the tension was suffocating.
Daenerys inhaled deeply, then exhaled. "Then we sail not just to reclaim the Iron Throne," she said, her voice steady. "We sail to end this war before it even begins."
Aeron turned to her, extending his hand. His violet eyes gleamed like embers in the dimming light of dusk.
"I will go to Dragonstone ahead of you," he said, his voice steady, carrying the weight of inevitability.
Daenerys regarded him for a moment before placing her hand in his, firm and certain. There was a silent understanding between them—this was only the beginning.
"I will clear it of any Baratheons that may still linger there," Aeron continued. "Then, when you arrive, we will speak of something far greater than castles and crowns. An enemy that exists far north of the Wall, one I do not yet know when will appear."
Jorah Mormont furrowed his brow, stepping forward. "The Wildlings?" he asked, skepticism in his tone.
Aeron let out a short laugh, dark, knowing. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Something far worse."
Daenerys studied him closely. "What enemy in the North, then?" she asked, her voice measured, yet tinged with curiosity.
Aeron turned away, already walking towards the ship's railing where the massive shadow of Cannibal loomed. Over his shoulder, he simply said, "We’ll speak in Dragonstone."
His words left a silence behind them one heavy with unanswered questions.
Jorah frowned, looking at Daenerys. "My queen..."
She raised a hand, silencing him. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes followed Aeron as he left.
"Very well then," she said softly.
Aeron stepped onto the deck, the salty sea breeze whipping through his dark cloak as he gazed at the sky.
Then, he whistled.
A sharp, commanding sound one that cut through the wind like a blade.
For a moment, there was nothing but the rolling of waves and the creaking of ships. Then, the sky darkened.
A colossal black blur loomed above, descending like a living storm, blocking out the sly entirely. A monstrous presence, wings stretched wide enough to shroud the entire fleet in its abyssal shadow.
The Cannibal had arrived.
The air shuddered with his descent, and the waves beneath him exploded outward, crashing violently against the ships, nearly capsizing the smaller vessels. The pressure of his presence alone made the warships groan as though the sea itself feared his coming.
Every head turned, every soldier, every sailor, every advisor aboard Daenerys' fleet. Awe, fear, disbelief, emotions warred on their faces as they bore witness to a dragon unlike any other.
"Gods…" Missandei whispered, wide-eyed.
"That beast is… unnatural and I don’t mean it because he is a black wraith..." Jorah muttered, gripping the hilt of his sword as if he could strike at something so vast.
"I have never seen a dragon so massive…" Grey Worm admitted, his usual stoicism faltering.
The Dothraki, fearless warriors who had ridden beside dragons, stared in pure reverence, some dropping to their knees, muttering words in their native tongue.
Even Daenerys ‘Mother of Dragons’ watched in stunned silence.
Aeron leapt, his form effortlessly soaring through the air before landing atop Cannibal’s back. His violet eyes flickered like embers as he looked down at them one last time.
"See you there, don’t take long."
Then, with a single powerful beat of Cannibal’s titanic wings, they vanished a blur of black and shadow slicing through the sky at impossible speed. The force of his departure sent a shockwave across the waters, making ships rock and groan under the sheer power left in their wake.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Daenerys' fingers curled against the wooden railing, her dragons stirring restlessly behind her as if sensing a shift in the very balance of the world.
And then, finally, she exhaled.
"Now," she said, voice steady.
"Set sail for Dragonstone."
