Solo Leveling in Westeros

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Aeron's thoughts drifted for some time and then his eyes returned to Daenerys for a brief moment. A rare softness passed over his face not warmth, exactly, but something protective. Claimed and possessive.

"I would keep her away from all of this," he said under his breath, to no one and to someone at the same time.

The wind outside howled again, a low and mournful sound.

"But I know better than to trust the quiet," Aeron said, eyes narrowing, the glow within them deepening. "Peace is but a veil stretched thin over the teeth of this pathetic world. If I didn't have this much power, where would I be right now..."

He drew the tent flap open further and stepped just beyond it, letting the snow dust his shoulders. His boots sank lightly into the fresh snow as he stood alone, gazing out into the blizzard.

The world was white and dead and moving.

Yet he could feel it. A gaze.

Old and patient.

Cruel, and colder than ice.

He spoke again, this time with iron in his voice, not soft.

"Come then… bastard," he whispered. "Watch me, if that pleases you."

His jaw clenched, and the violet fire in his eyes flared, cutting the snow's veil for a moment like a beacon through fog.

"I know you're there. Though you do not show yourself… I feel your breath in this wind. Your presence in the dark."

His gaze swept the endless storm ahead of him. Nothing. Not a sound save the wind.

Aeron's hand flexed at his side.

"Even now, I do not see you," he said, quieter now. "But I stepped into your realm the moment I crossed into the North. And you saw me ever since. Didn't you?"

A shadow knight patrolling passed near him, silent and dutiful. It stopped, as if sensing something. Aeron raised a hand, dismissing it with a flick of his fingers.

"I know you would not strike now. Not while I have strength."

Another gust tore across the slope, and snow clawed at his hair and a strange smile ghosted across his lips something between mockery and anticipation.

"That's why I'm the one who is coming for you." he said, almost conversational now.

His voice faded into the white silence beyond the tent, devoured by snow and storm.

Behind him, the furs rustled.

Daenerys stirred.

A quiet breath, the faintest creak of the bedframe. Then, her voice soft and low, still touched by the weight of sleep.

"Why are you up?" she asked. "Come back to bed."

Aeron did not turn.

Instead, his eyes remained fixed on the curtain of falling snow beyond the tent's entrance.

"It's morning already," he replied calmly. "Though you'd never know it. This storm's veil smothers the sky. No light finds us here, no sun dares break through."

There was a pause, a note of disbelief in her silence. Then the covers were pulled aside, and Daenerys rose from the bed. Unhurried, barefoot, unclothed, utterly unbothered by the cold that seeped in through the tent flaps.

She stepped lightly across the floor, pale skin catching the firelight as though carved from moonstone. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, a queen unarmored.

She stopped behind him.

"Can't we stay a bit longer?" she said softly, her arms slipping around his waist, her cheek pressing against the back of his shoulder. "I know you're eager to go, but..."

Her words drifted, unfinished.

The blizzard beyond howled, a long and distant cry.

Aeron's gaze didn't waver. His voice, when it came, was cool and steady.

"I must go," he said. "And there is no 'we.' Not this time."

She held him tighter.

"But.."

"No buts," he said, firm now. "I've changed my mind."

He turned in her arms, facing her at last. The faint violet glow in his eyes made the shadows dance across her face.

"The road ahead is too perilous. Not only for you... but for your dragons as well."

Daenerys blinked, her brows drawing together.

"What are you saying?"

"I've fought the dead now," he said. "I've seen them up close. The Night King is not some pale, mindless beast. He is cunning. Ancient. Patient. And far stronger than I'd believed. If he wished it, he could strike your children from the sky and then use them against us."

She opened her mouth to argue, but then hesitated.

Her eyes flicked toward the brazier, then toward the tent flap. Somewhere out there, beneath snow and wind, Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion waited.

"They are my children..." she said, quietly.

Aeron reached for her then.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into a full embrace. His grip was gentle, but there was iron in it. He held her as if the world might soon take her from him.

"I know," he said. "That is why I'm telling you to go back. I've thought through every outcome. You remaining here… it is.."

"A liability," she finished, her voice bitter. "I know."

"No," he said, firm again. "I didn't mean it that way. I mean that I'm worried. About you. About them. And about..."

He hesitated.

"Our future children."

That silenced her. Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of emotion washing over her face a blend of sorrow, longing, and something else she rarely let show.

Daenerys reached up, touched his face gently, cupping his cheek in her hand. Her fingers were cold, but the contact was warm.

"Aeron…" she began. "I… I can't bear children."

He said nothing, but his eyes searched hers.

A dry laugh left her lips short, bitter, but not cruel.

"I should be pregnant already," she said with a smirk, brushing a silver strand from her eyes. "With the way you are in bed… it'd be mad not to be."

Then the laughter faded.

"But I'm not. I can't. I was cursed. And that's why I'll obey your request out of fear of losing the only children I've ever known."

Aeron stared at her for a long moment, his expression calm.

Then, slowly, he reached down, took her hand in both of his, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"I already know," he said quietly. "My queen."

Her breath caught.

"As for your curse… I may have a solution."

Her eyes snapped up to his, wide and searching.

"You do?"

He nodded, a faint smirk ghosting across his lips.

"Magic is a blade that can cut both ways. Blood magic or no, curses can be broken, it is not impossible. Once I obtain a certain… thing… I believe I will be able to do anything. Even tear apart little bindings such as these."

Daenerys's face lit with hope, radiant and childlike, a rare crack in the armor she wore so well. Her hand slipped from his and found his face again.

"If you can do that," she whispered, "my life would be forever yours!"

Aeron tilted his head slightly, feigning confusion.

"Did you forget what I am to you?"

She laughed, light and fond.

"Of course," she said, shaking her head. "Silly me."

Then, she leaned in, pressed her lips to his ear, and whispered:

"My king. My life was already yours… but still…"

"Enough of that," Aeron said, touching her lips with a single finger.

He stepped back.

"Get dressed. Prepare to fly."

Daenerys's expression darkened.

"You mean to send me away now?"

He nodded.

"The Cannibal will escort you back to the Wall. He'll return to me after."

Her arms crossed over her bare chest, though not for warmth. Her eyes were sharp, calculating.

"And what of you? Won't you need a mount in this cursed storm? You'll be blind without him."

"I've realized land is better than air here," Aeron replied. "Up there, wind strikes from all sides. Cold blinds the eyes. And the Night King watches everything. I will follow my senses. I've walked darker paths."

She studied him, then nodded slowly. Her tone softened again.

"Be careful."

He turned back to her, just as she stepped close again.

"This realm…" she said, "it doesn't deserve this effort. Not from you. When all is done, no songs will be sung. None will believe it. And those who might… they will forget in a few short years."

Aeron gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. The glow in his eyes dimmed, becoming a gentler hue.

"Well," he said, "I'm not doing it for them."

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