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SLW Chapter 48 : The Cannibal - Apostle of The Old Gods of Valyria.
🕑 Added 2025-03-24 21:16:28 +0000 UTCThe Red Keep – Small Council Chamber
The chamber was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the flickering glow of tall candles and the pale light spilling through the narrow windows. At the heart of the room, the Small Council was gathered, powerful figures seated around the long oaken table. The air hung heavy with tension.
At the head sat Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King. His expression was as cold and unyielding as ever, his sharp green eyes fixed on the parchment in front of him. Cersei Lannister, resplendent in crimson and gold, lounged beside him, her beauty as dangerous as her ambition. Across from her, Petyr Baelish wore his usual mocking smile, while Varys, draped in his silk robes, folded his hands calmly in front of him.
The weight of the realm pressed on all of them. But today, a new shadow lingered over the kingdom.
"The Starks remain in the Riverlands," Tywin said, his voice like a blade scraped against stone. "Though there is a truce...for now. Returning the Stark girl bought us time. They know if they march further south, we will crush them."
Baelish chuckled softly, fingers idly playing with the silver mockingbird pin on his chest.
"Sentiment buys their patience, it seems," he mused. "But a wolf’s nature is to bite eventually. Don’t think for a moment they’ve forgotten what happened to their father."
Tywin’s gaze barely flickered. "Let them remember. Honor means nothing if they die screaming."
Cersei raised a goblet of wine to her lips, her voice smooth but laced with venom.
"And what of Stannis?" she asked. "Or must we continue pretending he isn’t a threat?"
Varys shifted slightly, his tone as soft as silk, yet weighted with meaning.
"The Usurper’s brother clings to life on the Wall, my lady. His forces are pitiful, a few loyal men, nothing more. Unless he manages to charm the wildlings to his cause, he is a king of snow and ghosts." He smiled faintly. "I doubt even their savagery would tip the scales in his favor."
Baelish’s smile widened, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Stannis Baratheon… begging the wildlings for help. Now there’s a thought worth savoring."
Cersei scoffed, swirling her wine. "Let him rot in the cold. His flames won’t save him."
"Yet it is not the Starks or Stannis that concerns me most," Varys murmured, his words drawing the room’s attention like a noose tightening around a neck. "A storm rises from the east...one with dragons. And now… something else is here."
Tywin’s gaze sharpened. "Speak plainly, Spider."
Varys inclined his head, the usual calm masking something graver beneath.
"Storm’s End has fallen, my lord while you were absent fighting north. But not to any army we know. Not to any banner we recognize."
The room fell into a tense silence. Even Cersei lowered her goblet.
"We received reports from Ser Kevan," Varys continued. "He led a combined force, Lannisters, Tyrells, Baratheon men..to break whatever unnatural hold had taken the castle." He hesitated, just a breath. "They failed. Utterly."
"Failed?" Tywin’s voice grew colder, dangerous. "Kevan does not fail. What did they face?"
Varys leaned forward slightly, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.
"Wraiths, my lord. Shadows given form. Knights that do not bleed. They cannot be killed...only kill. An entire army fled before them. Ser Kevan barely escaped with his life."
Cersei’s face paled for a moment, but pride masked her fear. "My uncle was never a coward."
"He is no coward," Varys assured her. "But he has seen things that defy all reason. By his own words...‘no man could stop them.’"
Baelish laughed softly under his breath, though the usual glint of humor in his eyes had dulled. "Ghosts? Is that what we fear now? I’d rather wager my gold on swords and men. Shadows cannot hold a kingdom."
Varys turned his gaze to him, calm as ever. "These shadows hold Storm’s End. And whoever commands them… holds more power than you know, we have witnessed how our.. Former king Joffery died."
Tywin remained silent for a long moment, weighing every word. Then, with the authority only he possessed, he spoke.
"What do we know of the man who leads them?"
Varys lowered his head. "Very little. A name, Aeron Grim, but even that is shrouded in mystery. My little birds whisper that he is no lord, no knight, no king. Yet he wields sorcery beyond comprehension. His intentions remain unknown, but whatever he seeks, he will not be content with one castle."
A shadow flickered over Tywin’s face. "The same man that sent me those letters...He will not have another."
Cersei’s voice cut through the room. "This Aeron, if he is even a man, what does he want? Gold? Power? The throne?"
Varys gave the faintest shrug. "Perhaps. Or perhaps he seeks something else entirely. But one thing is clear…" His smile faded completely. "He is no ordinary foe. And if we do not understand him...we cannot stop him."
A silence fell, a rare and heavy silence, filled with the weight of enemies unknown and dangers unseen.
Finally, Tywin stood, his golden lion pin catching the candlelight.
"Summon the banners. Double the garrisons along the Stormlands and the Reach. If Aeron Grim dares march north, he will find the full might of the Crown waiting. I will not let some nameless sorcerer threaten what is mine."
Baelish smiled, though his fingers drummed nervously against the table.
"A wise move, my lord. But if shadows could tear through an army… what happens when they come for us?"
Tywin’s cold eyes burned like embers. "Then we burn them out or we do."
Varys remained still, though in the shadow of his sleeves, his hands curled tight, because for once, even the Spider had no answers.
****
Shadowlands -
Aeron leapt from the back of his shadow wyvern, the air whipping past him as he plunged toward the blackened ground below. His boots hit the stone with a heavy thud, sending a spiderweb of cracks rippling beneath his feet. Smoke and heat hung thick in the air, like the mountain itself was alive but all of that faded in the face of the colossal shadow looming before him.
The dragon.
It was massive,far larger than anything Aeron had ever imagined. Its scales were blacker than midnight, swallowing the faint red glow from the volcanic pit. Ancient, jagged horns curved back from its skull like a crown of bone, twisted and sharp, each one etched with the wear of centuries. Its emerald-green eyes burned like molten poison, slitted and serpentine, radiating intelligence as old as Valyria itself.
It barely acknowledged him.
Aeron stood still, heart thundering in his chest. Despite its size, the beast was unnervingly silent, watching him with the cold indifference of a predator that had seen empires rise and fall. Its wings, tattered and immense, folded close against its body, and its claws, longer than swords, dug into the stone like anchors.
A living relic. A monster out of legend.
For a moment, Aeron almost believed it wasn’t interested in him. That is until silver light flashed.
The moment his Silverfang daggers materialized in his hands, the dragon’s gaze snapped to him, piercing, lethal. The air grew heavier as the beast’s throat rumbled with a sound that shook the very walls of the mountain.
Aeron’s eyes widened as the dragon slowly spread its wings, unfurling them with a deliberate menace. They were massive, their shadow swallowing everything beneath them. The edges were jagged and scarred, yet they still carried an undeniable power.
The beast lowered its head slightly, its fangs gleaming like ivory swords as it let out a low, guttural growl, a sound that crawled down Aeron’s spine.
He huffed out a breath, tilting his head. "I’d say you’re too old to fly…" His lips curled into a dry smirk. "If I hadn’t just seen you flying past me not long ago."
Before he could process what the hell he was facing, a chime echoed in his mind.
Ding!
[New Quest: Defeat The Cannibal – Apostle of the Old Gods of Valyria.]
Aeron’s smirk dropped. His mind froze.
"The Cannibal?!" His voice echoed through the cavern, half disbelief, half awe.
The name itself was enough to chill even the bravest hearts. The Cannibal, the oldest and most feared of all the wild dragons. A beast that had haunted Dragonstone, It had fed on its own kind, devouring the weak, the dying, even freshly-hatched wyrmlings. No one had ever tamed it. No one had ever come close.
And yet… here it was. Alive.
Aeron shook his head, a breathless laugh escaping his lips. "You’re telling me this thing survived since the time of the Dance of Dragons?" His fingers curled tighter around his blades. "Unbelievable."
The Cannibal’s wings fully extended as it loomed over him, a titan of fang and shadow, the beast opened its jaws wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth that glistened with venomous saliva. Then, without warning, it roared.
The sound wasn’t just noise, it was destruction made manifest.
The sheer force of it shook the earth, sending loose stones tumbling down the cavern walls. Aeron’s vision blurred at the edges as the pressure slammed into him, a sound so raw and primal it could’ve driven lesser men mad. Any ordinary person would’ve fallen to their knees, begging for mercy, or death.
But Aeron just smiled instead.
"Alright then…" he muttered under his breath, the thrill of battle surging through his veins. His heart pounded. As he readied himself to strike "A living legend... I can't wait for you to join my legion! "
