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SLW Chapter 52 : Time for Conquest
🕑 Added 2025-04-01 23:15:47 +0000 UTCThe people of Meereen were still recovering from the thunderous roar that had rattled the city to its core. Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal stirred uneasily atop the Great Pyramid, their eyes never leaving the storm-darkened sky.
Then, it happened.
A shadow fell over the city.
Not a mere cloud, nor the ordinary shifting of sunlight this was something far greater.
Titanic.
It moved, blotting out the sun, its silhouette stretching across the streets and pyramids below. People looked up, mouths agape, knees weak. Gasps turned to cries of terror, and terror turned to prayers.
A monster descended.
A colossal shadow dragon, darker than the deepest abyss, its eyes burning like wildfire. Its massive wings, spanning at least six times the size of Daenerys’s Drogon, beat against the wind, sending dust and debris cascading through the streets.
Upon its back, a figure sat, cloaked in black.
A king upon his throne, or rather his Dragon. It gave him an imposing, godlike aura, the jagged horns rising high as if he were some forgotten Valyrian warlord from the Age of Dragons reborn.
In his hands, Drakaryzor.
The massive black greatsword, pulsing with ember-like veins, hummed with power, every movement making the air around it shudder with heat.
As Cannibal swooped lower, Drogon roared furiously, his own wings flaring, but even he hesitated. The ancient black beast turned its glowing gaze to the dragon that looked like an infant compared to it.
He snarled.
Drogon flinched.
Daenerys watched in absolute disbelief. no creature, had ever made Drogon hesitate.
But this one did.
Aeron looked down at “Daenerys Targaryen. I told you I’d return.”
The entire city stood frozen, caught between awe and terror, as the Shadow Monarch made his grand descent.
Meereen held its breath.
From atop the Great Pyramid, Daenerys, Jorah, Missandei, and Grey Worm stood frozen in place, their eyes locked onto the colossal beast that had descended upon them. Cannibal the last monster of Valyria, reborn in death perched upon the pyramid’s edge like a harbinger of the world’s end. His emerald serpent eyes gleamed with an intelligence far beyond that of any mere beast, his shadow stretching across the city like a great omen.
Aeron Grim rose from the back of the cannibal.
Jorah staggered back, gripping his sword, his face pale with disbelief. "Seven hells... that beast is real..."
Missandei clasped her hands together, eyes wide, breath shallow. "By the gods... is that truly... a dragon?" She had seen many impossible things in the service of Daenerys, but this? This was something that should not exist.
Grey Worm, ever the warrior, gritted his teeth and clenched his spear, though his instincts screamed that no weapon he wielded could pierce that thing’s hide. He had no name for the terror that gripped him, but he had never felt it so strongly.
Daenerys’ three dragons, Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, wings half-flared in uncertainty. Drogon, the mightiest of them all, snarled but did not charge.
He could sense what this was.
An elder. A predator. A king of their kind.
Then, Aeron leapt.
He descended from the back of Cannibal, landing before Daenerys in a perfect stride, his black greatsword strapped across his back, his violet eyes glowing like dark stars.
With slow, deliberate steps, he closed the distance.
When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of something beyond human.
"Behold," Aeron said, his words low and filled with something ancient. "A survivor from the Dance of the Dragons... Well, no longer alive, but reborn as my eternal servant."
He stopped mere feet from her, his gaze meeting hers unflinching, unwavering. The violet in his irises pulsed like they held some hidden abyss within them.
Behind him, Cannibal loomed.
The massive, blackened beast lowered his head, emerald eyes locked onto Daenerys, and then
ROOOOAAAARRRR!
A tremor shook the pyramid to its core. The streets below screamed as a wave of sound exploded outward, shaking windows, rattling walls, making men and women alike collapse to their knees.
Black fire swirled within Cannibal’s maw. Not yet unleashed, but waiting.
A threat. A promise.
Daenerys felt the heat, even as it did not yet burn. Her heart pounded as she looked up at this creature a true monster from an age long forgotten. A thing that had outlived many.
And as she looked at Aeron, standing tall, powerful, undeniable, she could not stop the words from slipping past her lips.
"The Mother of Dragons title seems like a sad joke now."
Aeron chuckled, tilting his head slightly as he regarded Daenerys with an amused glint in his glowing violet eyes. "Don't be harsh on yourself." His voice was smooth, laced with something unreadable, something dangerous yet oddly reassuring.
But then his tone shifted, turning sharper. "About my offer."
Daenerys’ gaze did not waver. "Is this what you meant when you said you’d return with a greater power?"
Aeron glanced over his shoulder at Cannibal, the ancient, reanimated nightmare of a dragon that still perched atop the Great Pyramid, its serpent eyes gleaming in the dimming light. Then, his gaze returned to her, unwavering.
"I wasn’t sure what I would really find in the Shadowlands," Aeron admitted, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. "This was my greatest find. But I found... other interesting things along the way as well."
Daenerys studied him, then gestured slightly toward the towering beast above them. "I don’t understand. With this? With him? You could take Westeros alone. Why do you need me? Or anyone else?"
Aeron took a slow step forward. Then another. He did not stop.
The violet glow in his eyes sharpened as he stood before her, mere inches away. There was no hesitation in his voice, no arrogance, only certainty.
"Westeros, Essos, you name it no one stands a chance against me." The words were not a boast. They were a fact. "But I’m not out for senseless blood. And neither are you. That’s where you come in."
His gloved hand extended toward her, fingers open, waiting.
"You will rule by my side." His voice dropped lower, heavier. "And I will be the sword that ensures no one ever dares challenge that rule." His eyes burned into hers. "I don’t want a nobody as a queen."
His smirk returned, but this time, it was something genuine.
"Better to have the last Targaryen. A true dragon."
Silence hung between them, thick and electric.
Daenerys looked down at his outstretched hand, at the offer laid bare before her. Power. Protection. Dominion.
For a moment, she hesitated.
Then, slowly, she raised her hand and placed it in his.
"Very well." Her voice was steady, though her heart thundered in her chest.
Aeron’s grip tightened ever so slightly, a flicker of something victorious flashing in his eyes. He turned his head slightly, his smirk widening.
"Then let there be fire and blood for Westeros."
Above them, Cannibal roared, a monstrous cry that rattled the heavens.
The silence that followed was deafening—as if the very air had stilled in response to the pact just formed. But then, a voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"My queen…"
Jorah Mormont stepped forward, his expression dark, troubled. His hands clenched at his sides, his eyes flicking between Daenerys and Aeron.
"You know what this means." His voice was firm, edged with something close to desperation. "What will the people think? The ones who have followed you, bled for you, trusted in your vision?" He took another step forward, his gaze burning with conviction. "You’ve fought to free people from chains, Daenerys. Not to place them under the rule of a..." He hesitated, glancing at Aeron. "...A conqueror of shadows."
Aeron didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. He simply smiled.
Daenerys, however, turned to face Jorah fully.
Her expression was unreadable, but there was a newfound weight in her stare, something unyielding.
"Don’t interfere."
The words were not a request.
Jorah froze, his breath catching as the weight of her voice struck him like a hammer.
Daenerys took a step forward, her silver hair catching the dying light. "They will still follow their queen." Her voice carried across the room, steady as a stormfront. "Because I am still their queen."
Missandei who had stood silent until now exchanged a glance with Grey Worm. Neither spoke. But there was something in Missandei’s eyes… something like awe.
Jorah’s lips pressed into a thin line. His fists tightened, then released. He knew he had already lost this battle.
His queen had made her choice.
Aeron, still watching, chuckled lowly. "Well said." His voice was smooth, pleased. He turned toward Jorah, and in that moment, the glow in his violet eyes seemed to sharpen.
"Do not mistake me, Lord Mormont." His smirk widened, but it held no warmth. "I do not demand loyalty from you. It’s not your sword I need. It’s hers." His head tilted toward Daenerys.
A growl rumbled deep in Jorah’s throat. But he did not answer.
Daenerys exhaled softly, then turned back to Aeron. "Now we can set sail for Westeros."
Aeron grinned. "Now that… I can drink to."
