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Baelish offered his trademark smile, measured and smooth as silk, though there was a hint of tightness in his eyes now.
"Is it to your liking, Lord Aeron?" he asked, voice as calm as still water.
Aeron didn't answer. He slowly turned his head toward Baelish, his violet eyes narrowing. The air shifted. Without so much as raising his hand, an unseen force snapped forward Baelish's throat clenched shut.
He staggered where he stood, eyes bulging, hands clawing at his collar as if to pry away invisible fingers. A gasping, choking sound escaped his lips barely a whisper of a breath.
The entire Dragonpit shifted. Lords and knights rose from their seats in alarm. Cersei shot up, stunned. Even the Kingsguard reached for their swords but hesitated when they saw the Cannibal resting in the shadows like a coiled stormcloud, watching.
Aeron's voice was quiet, but it cut through the space like drawn steel.
"Do you take me for a fool?"
He stood now, towering slightly over the choking Baelish, expression unreadable save for the faint amusement curled in the corner of his lips.
"That was a bold attempt," he said. "Poison in a peace meeting. I almost admire the audacity."
Baelish made a strangled noise, face turning red, then purple. His knees buckled slightly.
Cersei took a step forward, her voice laced with fury and fear.
"Stop this at once!"
Daenerys turned her gaze to the Queen Regent, cold and unyielding.
"You try to poison us," she said, her voice sharp as a whip, "and you dare to give orders?"
Cersei's jaw clenched. "If we wanted you dead, you would be."
Aeron's eyes never left Baelish. His grip though unseen tightened another notch. A vein popped along Baelish's temple. For a moment, it looked as though his windpipe would collapse.
Then Aeron let go.
Baelish crumpled to one knee, coughing violently, eyes watering, gasping like a man who had nearly drowned. No one moved to help him. Not even Cersei.
Aeron turned back to his seat and sat, slow and composed, as if nothing had happened. He took another sip of the wine from Daenerys' goblet, then set it down on the table beside him.
"Try that again," he said softly, "and I'll show you what fear truly means."
The Dragonpit was silent.
Even the wind dared not speak.
Aeron leaned back in his seat, resting one arm on the stone armrest as his glowing violet eyes turned toward the Queen Regent.
"As for you, Cersei…" he said smoothly, voice low, "I do have a gift."
Cersei's brow furrowed in suspicion.
Aeron raised his hand, fingers moving with a subtle, graceful command.
Behind him, atop the Cannibal's broad, mountainous back, a figure had been resting unseen amidst the shadows of the beast's spines. The Cannibal let out a low, rumbling breath, as if irritated by the presence. The figure stirred limbs limp, face obscured by blood and dirt then slowly began to hover, as if plucked by an unseen god.
Gasps echoed through the pit as the figure drifted forward and gently descended to the ground like a puppet without strings.
"Approach," Aeron commanded, his voice carrying the weight of shadow and silence.
The figure staggered forward, blood caked in golden curls, one eye bruised and swollen shut. His armor was cracked, torn, the lion sigil barely visible through the grime.
Cersei's eyes widened. Her breath hitched. For a moment, she looked as if she had seen a ghost.
"Jaime…?" she whispered.
Then her voice rose into a half-scream as she ran toward him, the heels of her gown scraping against the stone.
"Jaime!"
She caught him before he fell, clutching his face with both hands. He was battered, barely standing, but when he saw her, a faint, familiar smirk curved his lips.
"You look awful," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.
"Better than the last time I woke up in chains, this one was rather gentle." Jaime muttered hoarsely, wincing from the pain, but his bravado still intact.
Cersei held him, trembling.
Baelish, still on one knee and clutching his throat, looked between them with stunned disbelief.
Aeron, watching from his seat, tilted his head and observed the reunion with something between disdain and pity. He spoke under his breath, only loud enough for Daenerys and perhaps the Cannibal to hear.
"Disgusting."
Daenerys glanced at him, curious, but said nothing.
Aeron rose slowly, lifting his goblet once more as the tension in the Dragonpit thickened like a hanging fog. He took a long sip of wine, his violet eyes resting on Baelish, whose throat still bore the red imprint of Aeron's invisible wrath. All around, nobles sat stiffly, uncertain whether to breathe or pray.
"You gave me offers," Aeron said, his voice calm, yet filled with a weight that quieted the murmurs of the pit. "Now listen to mine…Littlefinger."
The nickname cracked through the air like a whip, drawing the attention of everyone in attendance.
He stepped forward with measured grace, setting his cup down with a metallic clink upon the edge of the old stone seat. His voice grew firmer.
"You are going to declare loyalty to the one true monarch of the Seven Kingdoms… and the Dragon Queen."
Daenerys stood beside him now, still silent, her eyes locked on Baelish and Cersei. The latter held Jaime's arm tightly, but her lips were thin with fury.
Aeron stepped away from the seats, turning his back on them, as if done but then he stopped mid-step, slowly pivoting toward the gathering with a look of sovereign judgment.
"You have dishonored the Iron Throne long enough."
His hand lifted, fingers curling and shadows twisted at his feet. A black flame roared into being beside him as Drakaryzor materialized, forged from darkness and fire. The Greatsword's long edge burned with a subtle, flickering black flame, like a brand pulled from the deepest abyss.
Gasps erupted from the nobles. Some stood. Others clutched at their seats. Even the gold cloaks stiffened, hands uncertainly reaching for their hilts.
Aeron's voice dropped into the tone of finality.
"Refuse this offer… and I will not halt my campaign. Once I receive word that the Stormlands are fully under my banner, the Crownlands will be next. One city at a time. One gate after the other. Until not even ash remains of your false kingdom."
He gave them no time to respond. No time to beg or deny or scheme.
He turned and strode toward the Cannibal.
Daenerys followed, silent beside him. But once they neared their dragons, she glanced at him, her expression unreadable.
"So much for peace talks," she said quietly, bitterness laced in her voice.
Aeron stopped, boots grinding against the Dragonpit's earth. He turned to face the lords once more.
"I could take this city right now," he said plainly, the words falling like hammers. "I could watch the Cannibal tear your Red Keep stone by stone. I could let my shadow legion descend like nightfall… but I am not a monster."
He looked straight at Cersei.
"Unlike you Lannisters."
She met his gaze furious, humiliated but said nothing.
Drogon hissed behind them, lowering his neck. Daenerys climbed upon him, her silver braid catching the wind. Beside her, the Cannibal shifted, its mountainous form casting half the Dragonpit into shadow.
Aeron climbed atop the beast's back. Once seated, he raised his voice for the final time.
"You have three days," he said, and now his tone was grave and cold like prophecy.
"Three days to answer. Or the shadow legion will fall upon your armies like a tide of night and silence, and there will be no dawn after it."
The Cannibal shrieked, a sound so deep and furious it made the stone beneath their feet tremble. Drogon responded with his own roar, defiant.
Wings stretched wide, blotting out the sun once more.
And then they leapt Cannibal and Drogon into the sky with a thunderous gust of wind that ripped through cloaks and scattered banners. The Dragonpit quaked from their departure, leaving silence behind... and fear.
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