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THE RED KEEP - DUNGEONS
The laughter of the city above never reached this deep.
Here, the walls wept with damp and the air stank of rust, mold, and forgotten men.
Petyr Baelish sat hunched in the corner of his cell, a ghost of the man who once whispered in the ears of kings. His fine silks had long since turned to rags, his beard gone wild, eyes sunken but still sharp as ever. Those eyes darted across the flickering torchlight, calculating, weaving invisible webs even as the rats picked at crumbs beside him.
He muttered to himself names, plans, memories all fragments of the game he once ruled.
"The wheel turns..." he whispered, voice rasped from disuse. "The fools above, celebrating…"
A laugh slipped through his cracked lips, soft and bitter. "Aeron Grim… the King of Shadows. And Daenerys Targaryen, the dragon queen. Hah… they've won. When No one ever truly wins."
Outside his cell, two guards lounged by the gate, half-drunk and wholly bored.
"Look at him," one said, voice echoing off the stone. "Lord Baelish, former Master o' Coin… now Master o' Shit."
The other chuckled. "Everyone's feasting and watching knights knock each other senseless, and here you are, rotting in the dark."
"Tell us, mi lord," the first sneered, "did all your whispers dry up down here?"
Baelish didn't answer.
He only smiled faintly that same thin-lipped smile that once unsettled the mightiest lords. But now, it carried no weight. His mind turned, reaching for one last thread, one last scheme that might pull him from this hole.
None came.
The sound reached him first a soft sound, like the low breath of wind. The torches flickered. Shadows deepened unnaturally across the walls.
Both guards frowned and stood upright.
"What the fuck?!"
From the far corner of Baelish's cell, where no light should reach, something moved.
The darkness thickened, twisting, rising and from it stepped a figure cloaked in black, hood drawn low, its eyes two faint violet embers.
The guards froze.
"YOU THERE!" one barked, drawing his sword. "Who the fuck are you!"
The figure didn't answer. It stepped soundlessly forward, the faint gleam of a curved blade glinting beneath its sleeve.
Baelish's blood ran cold. He knew.
"No…" he whispered, pressing himself against the wall. "No, no, no…"
The guards fumbled with their keys, panic in their eyes.
"Open it! He's going after the prisoner!"
"I'm trying, damn it!"
Baelish stared at the shadow as it advanced.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips soft, trembling.
"You fools…" he muttered. "You're too late. This one isn't here to rob or rescue. He's sent to kill me."
The words barely left his mouth when the first guard lunged forward and the shadow simply moved.
Baelish backed away until he could go no further, his trembling hands pressed against cold stone.
"Listen to me…" he stammered, his voice a whisper of its former charm. "Listen!"
The shadow tilted its head slightly, mocking him. Then it stepped forward and, with a movement so graceful it was almost gentle, drew its blade across Baelish's throat.
His words died in a gurgle.
He fell to his knees, one hand clutching at the wound, eyes wide with disbelief as though the rules of the game had betrayed him at last, a silent execution no one even knows about, except two random guards.
Blood pooled beneath his chin, dark and steaming in the cold.
The shadow assassin stood over him for a heartbeat longer muttering "Chaos… is a ladder…" then dissolved into the darkness fading as swiftly as it had come, leaving nothing but silence and two stunned guards.
A rat scurried past the corpses, nibbling at a crust near Baelish's lifeless hand.
Above, faintly, the sound of distant music drifted through the stone laughter, drums, the cheers of a thousand voices.
The realm celebrated.
****
THE DRAGONPIT -
The Dragonpit slept beneath the dying sun, its ancient stones bathed in red and gold. The roar of the crowds had faded, replaced by the sigh of wind whispering through the broken arches. The tourney had ended. Laughter and song drifted faintly from the streets below.
Daenerys Targaryen stood before Drogon, one hand pressed against the great beast's snout. He rumbled low, the sound deep as thunder beneath the earth, his crimson eyes half-lidded with calm. The light of dusk danced across his scales, painting him in fire and shadow.
Behind her, Aeron Grim watched in silence. His dark cloak shifted in the wind, the faint shimmer of his eyes betraying that unnatural glint of violet beneath. For once, he wasn't the Shadow Monarch or the scourge of the gods of westeros and essos, he was simply there, in the quiet after victory.
"The people smile again," Daenerys said softly without turning. "For the first time since I can remember, the city doesn't reek of fear."
Aeron stepped closer, his voice low, calm. "Because they see something they never thought possible a realm healed, not ruled by chains or blades."
She smiled faintly. "A realm ruled by dragons."
He smirked. "Not just dragons." His gaze lingered on her.
Her laughter was soft, but it carried warmth, echoing faintly through the pit. Drogon shifted behind her, letting out a breath that came as smoke and heat.
Daenerys turned then, her silver hair catching the last threads of sunlight. For a moment, neither spoke. There was a tension in her eyes a flicker of something fragile. Aeron saw it, but waited.
She opened her mouth, closed it, and tried again. "There's something I must tell you."
Aeron tilted his head slightly. "Go on."
Her hand went to her stomach just faintly and her gaze dropped. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled, but her words were steady. "I'm with a child."
The words hung in the air. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Aeron blinked slowly. Then, a small, genuine smile broke across his face one rare enough to seem almost foreign on him. "That's…" he began softly, stepping forward, "that's great news."
Daenerys's lips parted in disbelief, then softened into a smile of her own. She let out a shaky laugh, tears glinting at the corners of her eyes. "That's all you have to say?"
He reached for her, pulling her close. "What more could I say that would be worthy of it?"
She pressed her forehead to his chest, breathing in the quiet steadiness of him. "I didn't think it possible, I really thought that I would never be able to.." she whispered. "You were right…"
Aeron's arms tightened around her. "I told you, it was a feeble curse."
She looked up at him, eyes shimmering, and before words could break the moment, he kissed her. It wasn't fierce or rushed it was deep and unhurried, the kind of kiss that made the world outside vanish. The cannibal above let out a slow rumble, as if blessing the moment.
When their lips parted, Daenerys smiled through her tears. "You're not surprised," she whispered, studying him.
Aeron's eyes opened fully, the faint violet glow flickering in them. "Perhaps I am," he said, his tone quiet. But she saw it just the faintest curve of his mouth, that telltale sign.
Her laugh was soft. "You already knew."
He said nothing, only brushed a strand of silver hair behind her ear.
She stood there for a heartbeat longer, memorizing the calm in his expression, the warmth beneath the shadow. Then, slowly, she turned toward Drogon.
The dragon lowered his head, and Daenerys climbed atop him with grace. She looked back once down at Aeron.
"I'll see you at the Red Keep, do not keep your queen waiting." she called, her voice carrying over the wind.
Aeron inclined his head, with the faintest smirk. "I'll be there shortly."
Drogon roared, spreading his colossal wings. The wind struck the stones in a hurricane of heat and ash as the great beast took to the skies, soaring toward the heart of the city.
Aeron stood unmoving as she vanished into the sunset. Then the shadows behind him stirred. The Cannibal emerged from the sky, its wings a void that drank the light. The old dragon's eyes met Aeron's, a silent exchange between two predators who had survived the end of the world.
Aeron rose from the ground, cloak rippling in the wind, and settled upon the beast's back. "Come, old one," he murmured. "Let's fly."
The Cannibal's wings unfurled with a crack like thunder. The dragon took flight.
From the streets below, the people of King's Landing looked up in awe. Children pointed. Men and women cheered. For the first time in memory, dragons filled the sky not as heralds of doom but of unity, of peace reborn.
Aeron looked down at the city he had once thought unworthy of salvation and smiled faintly.
"Let us build this realm anew," he said quietly to the wind.
The Cannibal roared into the heavens, the Shadow Monarch standing on his back, watching the world he is about to rule from above.
****
THANK YOU FOR READING -SOLO LEVELING IN WESTEROS ENDS HERE. And just like that… we've reached the end. From the very first chapter, this story has been a journey! To everyone who read, commented, liked or simply stayed along for the whole ride, a big THANK YOU! You made this worthwhile.
BUT MY FICS DON'T END HERE, FAR FROM IT - On top of the on going SHADOW MONARCH IN DC I'll be soon posting up to Three New Stories!
STAY TUNED!
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If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC
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