Last Hearth, The North
After a night of fierce fighting, Tywin Lannister finally captured Last Hearth before dawn.
The victorious Lannister soldiers moved through the battlefield, extinguishing fires, clearing bodies, and preparing the dead for cremation. The cries of the wounded echoed across the field, mingling with the curses directed at prisoners.
Yet despite the chaos, most people found themselves glancing at the sky.
High above, the Great Comet stretched across the heavens. Its crimson tail resembled either a blood-red banner fluttering in the wind or a giant sword hanging over the world.
The sky seemed to hold two suns.
One was pale and gray.
The other was blood-red.
"They're calling this comet Lion's Bloodfang."
Kevan Lannister wiped blood from his hands and climbed the steps to stand beside Tywin. His breath formed clouds in the cold air as he looked up at the comet.
The brief Ghost Summer had ended as suddenly as it had begun. It was almost as if it had appeared solely to aid their campaign. Now, following their victory, the strange warmth had vanished overnight.
The northern wind returned, bringing back the familiar bitter cold.
Tywin stood before the castle he had just conquered, his eyes fixed on the crimson comet.
It was a sight unlike anything recorded in history—a celestial omen that seemed both a promise and a warning.
"Lion's Bloodfang?"
He did not look away from the sky.
Kevan shrugged.
"Some say it's a symbol of vengeance. Others claim it foretells our victory."
He looked down at the bustling soldiers below.
"Everything has gone our way so far. The men believe the comet has brought us courage and fortune. Morale is high."
Last Hearth, the seat of House Umber, lacked the formidable defenses of Winterfell or the Dreadfort. Built beside a river and backed against a mountain, it was constructed from wood and stone, making it poorly suited to withstand a determined assault.
When the Lannisters launched their surprise night attack, the Umbers lacked both sufficient troops and strong defensive walls.
The result was inevitable.
House Umber suffered a crushing defeat.
The Lannister army numbered several thousand men and fought with the desperation of those who had no path left except victory. Success meant survival; failure meant extinction.
Within a single night, Last Hearth changed hands.
Tywin had placed great importance on this battle. His forces had marched rapidly, clearing obstacles along the way and catching the Umbers completely unprepared.
Because it was not a traditional siege, Lannister casualties remained relatively light.
Compared to what they had gained, those losses were insignificant.
With the capture of Last Hearth, they had acquired what they desperately needed: supplies.
After several moments of thought, Tywin finally spoke.
"This is good."
His tone seemed lighter than before.
"It will help with what comes next."
Kevan hesitated.
"Should we move immediately against House Karstark?"
The question was logical. According to their original plan, they were supposed to strike Karhold quickly and capitalize on their momentum.
Now was the ideal time.
But Tywin slowly shook his head.
"No."
Kevan frowned.
That was not part of the plan.
"But—"
Tywin cut him off.
"Taking this much is enough. Any further advance will drag us into a quagmire."
He descended the steps and looked toward the nearby town.
Lannister soldiers were already searching homes for supplies while frightened civilians were driven into the streets.
Kevan remained silent, thinking.
He had long since learned not to form conclusions before Tywin did.
From an early age, he had recognized his elder brother's brilliance and willingly devoted himself to supporting him. Though it meant living in Tywin's shadow, Kevan accepted it without complaint.
Tywin ignored his brother's contemplation.
A troubled expression crossed his face.
After several minutes, Kevan finally spoke.
"You think House Bolton isn't trustworthy."
Tywin remained silent.
Kevan continued.
"You think Roose Bolton might betray us."
Tywin finally nodded.
"This place is an attractive prize."
He gestured around them.
"But beneath the prize lies a trap."
He turned toward Kevan.
"I believe Roose Bolton would be delighted to add Lannister skins to his family's collection."
Kevan felt a chill run down his spine.
"You believe he's never intended to cooperate with us?"
"It's cooperation built on mutual exploitation," Tywin replied calmly.
"We are allies—for now. But we have also been testing one another."
He paused.
"If we follow the original plan and attack Karhold, what do you think will happen?"
Kevan said nothing.
Tywin answered for him.
"The armies of Stark, Bolton, and Karstark will surround us."
His eyes hardened.
"We would have nowhere to run."
He swept his gaze across the surrounding lands.
"This castle is an irresistible piece of cake."
Then his voice turned cold.
"And the trap is hidden beneath it."
"Roose Bolton knew we would come here. He knew this was our only chance."
Tywin clenched his jaw.
"But if we go any farther, we die."
Kevan inhaled sharply.
Now he understood.
They had considered Bolton's possible betrayal back at Castle Black, but circumstances had left them no choice.
Robert Baratheon's death.
The pressure from the Iron Bank.
The surviving Lannisters fleeing for their lives.
And above all else, this was House Lannister's final opportunity.
Every factor had forced them down this path.
They had to take the first step.
But if Bolton intended to use them as pawns, everything changed.
The logic became painfully clear.
Why had Roose Bolton agreed to help them?
Because it benefited him.
If the Lannisters attacked House Umber and then House Karstark, they would weaken Bolton's rivals regardless of the outcome.
The entire northeastern North—from the Last River to the lands surrounding Karhold—would fall under Bolton's influence.
That alone was a tremendous gain.
Then, once the Lannisters had served their purpose, Bolton could simply betray them.
The Lannisters themselves would become his second reward.
Kevan's face paled.
If they had failed to recognize the trap, House Bolton would have feasted upon them without hesitation.
"What do we do?"
His voice was grim.
"If you're right, our position becomes even worse. Gina won't be able to reach us in time."
He swallowed.
"And the Iron Bank will abandon us the moment we become a losing investment."
Tywin looked over the battlefield one last time.
Then his expression hardened.
"Give the order."
"Stop clearing the battlefield."
"Take every supply we can carry."
"Any surviving prisoners who wish to live may join us."
His voice became colder.
"Those who refuse will be executed."
He continued.
"Leave the bodies where they lie. They may buy us time."
"As for the severely wounded..."
He paused briefly.
"Deal with them."
Kevan lowered his head.
Tywin looked westward.
"We turn back."
"We head toward the Kingsroad and look for an opportunity."
His eyes narrowed.
"And if fortune favors us, we take Winterfell."
Only then did a spark of determination appear in his gaze.
"Only then will we truly have a chance."
After issuing his orders, Tywin once again looked up at the crimson comet blazing across the sky.
"Lion's Bloodfang..."
---
Dragonstone
Stannis Baratheon waited at the docks with Maester Cressen, Ser Davos Seaworth, Melisandre, Queen Selyse Florent, and numerous attendants.
Above them, the blood-red comet burned in the sky.
A ship flying both the Stark direwolf and the Baratheon crowned stag slowly approached the harbor.
The reception was solemn.
No one spoke.
Only the wind from the Narrow Sea broke the silence.
Some watched the approaching vessel.
Others stared at the ominous comet overhead.
The ship finally docked.
A gangplank was lowered.
Jory Cassel descended first with several guards, ensuring everything was secure before allowing his lord ashore.
Stannis did not move.
He remained where he stood until Eddard Stark approached him.
Only then did he raise his chin slightly.
"Stannis—"
"Duke Eddard Stark."
Stannis interrupted him immediately.
"You should address me as Your Majesty."
His expression remained stern.
"Stannis the First of House Baratheon."
Ned Stark's face darkened.
Anger flashed in his eyes.
"Stannis, you and I both know who the king is."
His voice was firm.
"And it is not you."
Stannis took a step forward.
"The king can only be me."
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