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The hall was still ringing with silence after the shadow-man arrival. Tension coiled in the air like a drawn bow. Then Aeron Grim, calm as ever, turned his glowing violet eyes to the bastard of Winterfell, "Hello there, Jon," Aeron said, a ghost of a grin touching his lips. "It's been a while."
Jon straightened, his brow still furrowed in disbelief, but he gave a small nod. "It has."
Aeron's gaze swept across the great hall. His presence seemed to chill the firelight, as if the very shadows leaned toward him in reverence. His eyes passed over each face, lingering a moment on Sansa, then Arya.
"Well," he said, with a faintly amused tone, "a lot of familiar faces. But I believe this is the first time I've seen your sisters." He offered a courteous dip of his head, surprisingly graceful. "Glad to see they're safe and sound."
Sansa blinked, visibly taken aback by the gesture. Her posture stiffened for a heartbeat before she gave a polite, uncertain nod in return, studying him carefully, like someone regarding a wolf that bowed instead of bared its teeth.
Arya scoffed from near the hearth. "That's the scary fellow they've all been talking about?" She tilted her head mockingly, arms crossed. "Doesn't look so terrifying to me."
Aeron chuckled softly, the sound like silk brushing against stone. "You've got guts, girl. I like that."
Robb stepped forward now, boots heavy on the stone floor, steel still sheathed but his eyes cautious. "Aeron Grim."
Aeron turned to face him fully. "Robb Stark," he said, voice cool but not unfriendly. "Warden of the North."
A sharp clang echoed through the hall as Ser Rodrik Cassel smacked his hand down on the table, his voice cutting through the moment like a blade. "King in the North," he said, firmly, stern eyes boring into Aeron.
Aeron didn't even spare him a glance. "If I recognized him as king," he said, his tone as calm as falling snow, "I would have said that."
The air tightened. Robb's jaw clenched, his brow lowering.
Then Aeron added, almost idly, "There can only be one king in these realms."
Robb took a breath, his voice steady but low. "And I suppose you think that king should be you?"
Before Aeron could reply, Jon stepped in between them, his voice quiet but firm. "That's enough, before we end up doing something stupid."
He looked at Aeron, his expression grateful but wary. "I should thank you. You protected Winterfell. Protected my family. For that, you have my thanks."
Robb exhaled slowly. The fire behind him crackled, casting flickering light over his features.
"Aye," he said at last. "No need for you to call me king just this once." His voice was lower now, not weak but genuine. "You protected our home. And for that, I'm grateful."
Aeron's head dipped once, a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "I don't do it for gratitude."
He turned away, his cloak of curling behind him. "But it's good to be appreciated."
Aeron Grim stood tall at the center, surrounded by wary eyes and clenched fists. Shadows still danced at his feet like loyal pets, flickering in the firelight.
"I suppose you're going to ask why I came here," Aeron said, voice calm, like he wasn't standing in the stronghold of a king whose title he just challenged.
Robb Stark crossed his arms, his blue eyes steady. "Aye," he said simply, then added with a touch of frustration, "Was it necessary to come like that? All sorcery… or whatever that thing you did was?"
Aeron let a smile curl at the corner of his lips. "Trust me… that was the most mindful way I could've shown up." He looked around the hall, shadows trailing him like mist. "The alternative… would've spooked the entire North."
Jon and Robb exchanged a long look. Even the hall seemed to hold its breath. Jon gave his brother a subtle nod. He knew what Aeron was capable of, had seen it beyond the Wall. Those shadows… those things that killed the dead and the alive alike, like they were nothing.
Robb said nothing more, but his eyes betrayed a quiet shift. Wariness now shared space with respect.
"I came for two things," Aeron continued, the room falling into absolute silence. "First: there's a threat in the North. One that has awakened recently. I don't know when it will reach the Wall, but it will. And when it does…" His violet eyes gleamed. "The North will burn. But I can stop it."
Sansa tensed, gripping the armrest of her seat. Arya's smirk had faded, replaced with something much colder in her stare.
"And second," Aeron said, his tone sharpening, "I need you… to bend the knee." He let the words hang, heavy as a sword drawn.
The room exploded in outrage.
"Insolent!" barked Ser Rodrik, slamming his hand on the table as he stood. "What you're asking is—"
A gust of power rippled out from Aeron's palm.
With a crack, Ser Rodrik was yanked into the air like a ragdoll, mouth clamped shut by an invisible force. He writhed, eyes wide with fury and disbelief, floating above the hall like some cursed banner.
"You talk too much," Aeron said coldly. "And I've tolerated your disrespect for your soon-to-be monarch… for the last time."
Steel rang from scabbards, Winterfell guards drawing blades in defense of their old master.
"NO!" Jon's voice cut through like a sword. He stepped forward, eyes fixed on Aeron.
Aeron slowly turned his head toward Jon, then released his grip. Ser Rodrik dropped to the ground with a thud, gasping for air, shaken but alive.
"One more word," Aeron warned, "and I'll behead you before you even realize it."
"Sheathe your swords, you idiots!" Robb barked at his men. Reluctantly, the soldiers obeyed, the tension dropping a fraction.
Robb stared at Aeron now, face hard with questions. "Is it true?" he asked. "That you are the one that killed Roose Bolton?"
Aeron inclined his head slightly. "Among others," he said. "Those who would've tipped the balance of power in this war. I removed them. Quietly."
Robb's eyes flickered. "Then I assume it was you who killed Joffrey as well."
Aeron's smile widened, cool, dangerous, but honest. "Yes. I helped your house keep its head," he said. "While making sure no house could seize the advantage over the rest."
Then he raised both hands, shadows curling up his sleeves like smoke, and said, almost cheerfully, "After all… I'm a just Monarch."
No one spoke.
Even the torches along the stone walls seemed dimmer in his presence.
Somewhere in the silence, Arya whispered to herself, "He's mad."
But Jon Snow who'd faced both monsters and men, watched Aeron Grim with something deeper than fear. Something like understanding.
****
Robb Stark sat still at the head of the table, blue eyes shadowed with thought. He didn't speak right away. The king in the North had fought men, monsters, and Lannisters, but this… this was different.
Finally, after a long moment, he stood. His voice, though low, carried like steel through the chamber.
"If it means my people are going to be safe and sound…" Robb said, "From the threat in the North… and from you…" He paused, his jaw clenched. "Then I'd bend the knee to the devil himself."
A soft breath left the crowd, half disbelief, half acceptance.
Aeron tilted his head, violet eyes narrowing slightly. "When you say it like that," he said, almost mockingly hurt, "you make me feel like a villain."
He lifted his hand.
"Come out."
The shadows under his feet rippled. Then they moved.
Twenty shadow soldiers emerged from the darkness like death given form silent, armored, and imposing. Each one stood perfectly still, their blackened helms glowing faintly with violet-light.
Then came Giant, a hulking beast of a shadow, tall enough to nearly brush the ceiling beams, glowing eyes like molten ice. He loomed behind Aeron like a grim sentinel.
Gasps echoed through the hall.
Arya Stark took an unconscious step back, eyes wide. "Seven bloody hells…" she muttered under her breath, gripping the hilt of her blade with awe. "That's the scary fellow they've been talkin' about alright."
Sansa stood frozen, her breath shallow. "They… they don't even look like they breathe," she whispered, her voice shaken. "Are they… alive?"
"No," Jon said simply. "They're dead people, reanimated by whatever his sorcery is."
Robb stared in stunned silence, not even trying to hide his shock. The very air seemed to bow around the creatures. Not just soldiers, weapons. A force that could hold back an army. That's what Robb felt from merely twenty shadow soldiers.
Aeron glanced back, his tone relaxed but unignorable. "These are yours to command," he said. "For now."
He stepped away, his shadow soldiers parting like a dark tide before him.
"They will protect Winterfell. If something unexpected shows up… or if any enemy dares cross your gates."
He paused at the massive doors of the hall, not turning around.
"I have other 'kings'," he said coldly, "who require my attention… and their knees."
No one dared to stop him.
Aeron raised a hand.
"Exchange."
And in a ripple of darkness, like smoke vanishing in the wind, the Shadow Monarch was gone.
But the cold he left behind, was a shadow soldier that all in the hall kept looking at in uter confusion.
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