Solo Leveling in Westeros

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The tension in the air eased slightly, as the men of the Night's Watch let out a collective sigh of relief. For a brief moment, they had feared the creature that had slaughtered Craster would return for them, but seeing Jon and Aeron—alive and unscathed—put their fears to rest. 

Aeron's gaze flicked across the group of men, his expression impassive as ever. Jon followed closely behind, his eyes narrowing at the scene in front of them. He could feel the unease of the Watchmen, the way they shifted under the weight of the situation. But his attention was quickly drawn to the gruesome sight of Craster's body. 

The men parted, allowing Jon and Aeron to approach. Craster lay sprawled in a pool of his own blood, his head missing, and his body torn apart as if some great force had ripped him apart with vicious cruelty. The sight was a brutal execution, the kind of violence that sent a chill down Jon's spine. 

Jon's stomach twisted at the sight, a feeling of disgust rising in his throat. 

His eyes flicked to Aeron, searching his expression for any hint of what he was thinking. Aeron's face was unreadable, his gaze distant. The kind of look that came with years of seeing death and destruction. But then, something shifted in Jon's chest. He caught it the subtle glance Aeron gave him, a silent communication that told him everything. 

Aeron knew exactly what Jon was thinking. 

Jon's gaze moved to the women standing off to the side, huddled together, their eyes wide with fear, their bodies battered. The bruises on their skin told a story, one Jon had heard rumors of. The whispers about Craster and his daughters were nothing new. But seeing the scars, the lack of sons, the palpable terror in their eyes, confirmed everything Aeron had told him. Craster's cruelty was no longer just a rumor. 

Jon's honor screamed at him, part of him wanted to say everything, another part said that Craster really deserved this gruesome end. 

Jon took a deep breath, his jaw tightening, as he looked back at Aeron. The unspoken words hung between them like a heavy weight. 

Aeron was the first to break the silence, his voice low, a sigh escaping him as he closed the distance between them. He placed a hand firmly on Jon's shoulder, his grip unyielding. Jon glanced at him, his expression conflicted, and Aeron's eyes softened just a fraction, though his tone remained steady. 

"Honor can't keep a person alive, Jon," he whispered, his words cutting through the confusion that clouded Jon's mind. 

Jon didn't reply immediately. He let Aeron's words sink in, 

The men around them were already murmuring, their voices filled with uncertainty and unease, but Jon and Aeron were silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Aeron's hand remained on Jon's shoulder, offering silent comfort, or perhaps understanding. 

Jeor Mormont stood tall, his face hard and grave as he surveyed the scene around Craster's Keep. The cold winds swept through the trees, sending a chill through the men of the Night's Watch as they lingered near the gates, looking uneasily at the remains of the once-feared Craster. 

"Men," Jeor said, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of unease. "Whatever killed Craster, this isn't the work of men. This is a beast's doing. But what bothers me…" He paused, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the surroundings, his gaze sharp and focused, "is that this beast killed him alone. Craster's body is the only one touched. The others are left untouched, unscathed." 

A murmur ran through the men, uncertainty hanging in the air like a cloud. Some of the younger rangers exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke. Jeor's words left a weight on their shoulders, a growing sense that something darker than they could understand was lurking in the shadows. 

The women of the Keep, still trembling, huddled together near the longhall's entrance, their frightened eyes scanning the men. They were silent, but some of the men couldn't help but eye them, their intentions becoming more than obvious. 

A few of the men, emboldened by the presence of the women and the dark mood of the moment, made small, lecherous comments to one another. One man, an older ranger with a rough face, snickered under his breath. 

"Well, at least the women are still here. Maybe we could..." 

Before he could finish, a cold, cutting voice sliced through the air. 

"Touch them, and I'll kill you myself." 

The words were quiet, but they carried a weight that silenced the men instantly. They froze in place, their eyes snapping toward Aeron Grim, who stood off to the side, his gaze cold and calculating. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his posture was one of utter calm, but there was a silent threat in his eyes that made the men hesitate. 

The older ranger took an involuntary step back, his face paling as he met Aeron's unflinching stare. The threat wasn't just in the words it was in the way Aeron stood, like a predator waiting to strike. 

"No need for threats," Jeor said, his voice carrying over the group. He paused, locking eyes with the men who had been eyeing the women. "Because I'll do that myself." 

One of the men shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flicking to Aeron before returning to the ground. No one dared to make another move toward the women. 

Aeron didn't say another word, his expression still unreadable, but there was a faint glimmer of approval in his eyes. He knew Jeor's authority was enough to keep things in line. 'I saved him by killing Craster. The bastard was no ally, no friend, just a vile, rotten thing that had no place in this world anymore. And for all his gruffness and arrogance, Mormont knew it. And the men of the nights watch would have killed him because of that bastard.' he thought with a small, bitter chuckle, Still, it didn't hurt to remind the men just how easily things could turn deadly. 

Aeron's gaze lingered on the shifting shadows cast by the flickering torches around Craster's Keep. Despite the cold that bit into his skin and the unsettling silence of the night, his mind was elsewhere. 'My shadows still didn't find anything...' he thought, a hint of frustration curling at the edge of his thoughts. 'they're not easy to track. They know how to hide themselves from even my eyes.' 

'I'm the only being in this world that can pose a threat to the Night King,' he thought, his gaze narrowing as the weight of his own words settled over him. 

'If I kill him now...' Aeron thought, allowing the dangerous idea to take root.' It would be beneficial to me. The rewards could be endless. Eliminating him would eliminate the greatest threat this world has ever seen, leaving myself alone.' 

Despite the unease, Mormont's voice was steady, carrying through the cold night. 

"Alright, men. Settle down for the night," he commanded, his tone gruff. "Take only what we can carry. We'll have to return here when we can, but for now, we march on to the Fist of the First Men tomorrow." 

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If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC

AND 

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