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SLW Chapter 80 : The Worth of a Flower
🕑 Added 2025-06-01 22:59:41 +0000 UTCAeron Grim stepped forward calm, unbothered his violet eyes glimmering like embers in the dark. The banners of House Tyrell swayed gently above, but not one soul in the great hall was calm.
The moment his boot echoed on the stone floor, every guard in the chamber moved as one swords drawn, shields raised, the polished steel of the Reach bristling toward him.
And then
One glance.
That was all.
A single, sweeping look from Aeron. His eyes burned brighter for the briefest moment, and then the wave struck.
[Bloodlust]
It washed over them like a storm. Invisible. Crushing. Terrifying. Every man with a weapon dropped to his knees, panting, sweating, shaking. Their blades clattered across the marble like toys fallen from a child’s grip. A few even whimpered, tears streaking down their faces as their minds struggled against the force bearing down on them.
Raya didn't flinch. She’d seen it before.
Across the room, Olenna Tyrell stood in awe. Her gnarled fingers clenched around the edge of her cain. Margaery stiffened beside her, lips parted, a flicker of fear in her proud eyes.
Tyrells staggered back behind each other is if it will shield them from this horror of a man.
Aeron’s steps echoed through the silence as he approached the gathered family.
“I anticipated this,” he said, voice low but piercing. “That you’d be stubborn. But this...this is just plain stupid. I expected more from you, Lady Olenna. You’re smarter than this.”
The Queen of Thorns studied him. Her lips curled in disdain.
“I thought you’d be hideous,” she said, head tilting slightly. “A monster with claws and scales. Eyes like coals and breath like death. Instead…” she waved her hand dismissively, “…you’re just a man, rather handsome even.”
“Yeah…” Margaery added, uncertain but defiant, even as her voice shook faintly. “totally not what I had in mind.”
Mace opened his mouth to speak, but only nonsense came out. “W-we… th-this is preposterous—he—he can’t...”
“Silence, Mace,” Olenna snapped without looking.
Aeron’s gaze never left her.
“What did you expect?” he asked, voice like ice over still water. “A beast? A demon? Not that I can’t be. But where’s the wisdom in that? Is that how a King should be ?”
He took another step. The guards remained on their knees, too broken to move.
Raya stepped in beside him.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t try to persuade them,” she said, half-teasing, her tone edged with exasperation. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing right now?”
Aeron turned to her, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Change of plans,” he said softly. “The Reach is important. But House Tyrell isn’t.”
Gasps filled the hall. Margaery covered her mouth. Olenna’s eyes narrowed.
Then Aeron slowly drew his greatsword its blackened blade etched with ancient markings, pulsing faintly with black flame. He raised it, pointing it toward them like a sentence passed.
“The Reach,” he said, “is a rich kingdom. Burn it... and the other kingdoms will starve. Chaos will follow.”
Olenna’s lip curled into a smile.
But Aeron wasn’t finished.
“My army doesn’t tire. Doesn’t eat. Doesn’t drink. And certainly doesn’t get paid for their efforts.”
He paused, letting the weight of it settle like a noose.
“You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”
He leaned forward slightly, violet eyes glowing.
“If I were a mindless monarch... I’d kill whoever stands in my path. Lay ruin to every field, every hall, every city. Because unlike your lords and kings, I have nothing to lose.”
The silence was absolute.
Even Olenna did not speak right away.
But her eyes sharp as ever locked with Aeron’s, calculating the weight of those words, the cold truth behind them, and the shadow rising just beyond the gates of Highgarden.
And for the first time in decades, she wasn’t sure what play was left to make.
Aeron walked to the center of the hall none dared to make eye contact, his violet eyes burning faintly. Mace Tyrell had retreated behind a wide table, his expression dazed and pale. Margeary sat upright but frozen, her hands clenched in her lap. Loras stood beside his sister, tense as a bowstring.
But it was Olenna who kept her eyes steady on him.
The Queen of Thorns adjusted her brooch, eyes narrowing. “Now that I’ve seen how you showed up here... sorcery and all that,” she said, voice sharp and unwavering, “I want to ask you something.”
Aeron nodded, lips twitching faintly. “Ask away.”
She didn’t miss the humor. She never did.
“The Crown kept it quiet,” she began, circling slightly, like a wary lioness. “Very few ever heard what truly happened. And even fewer believed it. But I’ve always had a nose for rot. That until the battle of Storm’s End...”
She paused, letting the silence stretch. “I didn’t believe it at first. But then... our banners marched with theirs. I sent men of my own. None returned.”
"a Lannister-Baratheon- Tyrell army crushed by wraiths, shadows, beasts that did not bleed nor break.”
Her gaze hardened. “And now here you are...the commander of that wraith army.”
Aeron’s voice was cool, unbothered. “You’re not wrong.”
She stepped forward, chin lifted. “King Joffrey... it was you who killed him.”
A pause. A flicker of something in his gaze. Then, “That’s it?”
Olenna raised a brow. “You sound disappointed.”
Aeron tilted his head. “Yes, I killed him. I did the realm a favor.”
Mace made a choked noise, half a gasp, half a whimper. Loras shifted on his feet. Margeary’s eyes narrowed.
Olenna, however, only let out a sigh. “Funny thing, that. I was planning to wed my granddaughter to the little beast. Even planned his death.”
She leaned on her cane, her voice hardening. “Because there’s no gods-damned way I’d let one of my blood mix with that golden-haired stain on the throne.”
Aeron’s lips curled faintly. “And?”
“And?” Olenna arched a brow. “A thank you, for starters.”
Aeron let out a quiet laugh. It was the sound of cold steel scraping against silk.
Olenna didn’t flinch. “But I see it now. I see what you are. You don’t care for the realm. You don’t want to save it. You don’t want to rule it. You are not in this for gold, not for glory. Just for control. And I suppose your silver-haired Queen will do the ruling. You’ll be the sword.”
The smile on Aeron’s face widened. “Bravo,” he murmured, amused. “You are truly impressive.”
He stepped forward, shadows dancing around his cloak like smoke rising from a battlefield. “What is your answer now?”
The room went silent again. Olenna’s expression tightened. She looked back at her family her trembling son, her granddaughter with the calculating gaze, her proud grandson who now stood unsure of his place. She exhaled through her nose.
“Very well,” she said at last, voice brittle. “As long as it’s not one of Cersei’s bastards.... I suppose we can agree.. But I have one condition”
Aeron chuckled darkly. “That’s not an option... but your wit amuses me. I’ll hear your condition.”
The Queen of Thorns squared her shoulders. “I care about House Tyrell. I always have. The Reach is more than golden harvests and pretty flowers it is the spine of this realm. It must have a voice on your small council.”
Aeron gave a slight nod. “Expected.”
But she wasn’t done. Her gaze flicked to Margeary, who straightened slightly.
“And,” Olenna added, her tone sharpened like a dagger hidden in lace, “my granddaughter. She is pure yet. She is to be your Queen.”
There was a collective intake of breath. Loras’s jaw tightened. Margaery's eyes widened just for a breath then returned to that courtly stillness she’d mastered.
Aeron didn’t move.
Then, slowly, he tilted his head. “You are asking too much now, Lady Olenna.”
“I know I do, you are already entangled with the dragon queen but you are a king are you not? It is fine in nobility. even if you are not one, you are still a King.” she snapped back. “and also Because I have earned that right to ask much. I’ve kept this house standing while men have tried to tear it down for generations. And I will not let it fall into ruin. My blood must continue.”
Raya raised an eyebrow, watching quietly from the shadows behind Aeron.
The Shadow Monarch finally spoke, voice low but calm.
“I’ll see if she is worthy of that title.”
