Could this battle still be fought?
Of course. With the military host Eddard currently commanded, his core of elite "Winter Guards," the ten thousand seasoned Northmen and Riverlords, and the two hundred armored giants, he could have reduced Crakehall to a pile of smoking granite within ten days. Tywin Lannister had spoken with the iron-willed defiance of a man ready to die, but Eddard knew the truth: if the Old Lion fell or was taken in chains, the remaining lords of the West would fold like dry parchment.
But a strong assault had a price. It would cost thousands of lives, and even the Sun-Glow Giant Legion would bleed. Eddard felt no need for a pointless display of vanity; he wasn't a tyrant looking for a bloodbath to satisfy an ego. If the Lion was willing to kneel, Eddard was pragmatic enough to let him.
However, the terms of a Lion's submission could never be simple.
Eddard remained squatted in front of the kneeling Tywin. He reached out, his gauntlet-clad fingers tracing the roaring golden lion atop Tywin's helmet. It was pure gold, the ruby eyes shimmering with a cold, trapped light.
"If you want to preserve the name Lannister," Eddard began, his voice a low, vibrating rasp that only Tywin could hear, "you must take the Black. You and the Kingslayer both. You will go to the Wall and spend the rest of your days guarding the realm you spent your life dismantling."
Tywin's face, lowered toward the mud, tightened. The bitterness in his expression was a physical thing.
"Only then," Eddard continued, "can I appease the Riverlords. Because of your family's pride, you and Jaime turned the Trident into a charnel house. You burned their fields, salted their earth, and let Gregor Clegane loose like a rabid dog. Neither the Old Gods nor the New will forgive those crimes, Tywin. The Wall is the only alternative to a gallows."
Tywin remained silent, his mind a frantic hive of calculations. Ever since Tommen's death, he had seen the walls closing in. Stannis Baratheon held King's Landing; if Tywin surrendered to the Stag, he would be executed as a traitor without a second thought. The Martells of Dorne still hungered for Elia's blood, and the Tyrells were currently being devoured by Euron Greyjoy's Iron Fleet.
Westeros was a sea of enemies, and only the North offered a shore, one made of ice, but a shore nonetheless.
"Alright," Tywin finally whispered, the words sounding like dry leaves. "I accept. After I leave Casterly Rock to Jaime..."
"No," Eddard interrupted, a sharp, mocking smile curving his lips. "Jaime cannot inherit. He is a Kingslayer, a kinslayer, and the man who murdered my brother. If you leave Jaime at the Rock, the Riverlands will never stop marching until his head is on a pike. He goes to the Wall with you. He can serve under Jon Snow; perhaps the cold will teach him the honor he never found in the capital."
Tywin's jaw bulged. "Then... Cersei?"
Eddard rolled his eyes. "I'm not a madman, Tywin. Putting Cersei in charge of a kingdom is like handing a torch to an arsonist and asking him to watch the hayloft. She is a liability I won't entertain."
"Then who?" Tywin demanded, his voice rising in a rare moment of agitation. "If you take my sons and bypass my daughter, you are simply plundering my house. You might as well finish the job here."
"I'm talking about Tyrion," Eddard said.
Before Tywin could erupt, Eddard pressed on. "Tyrion is capable. He has a temperament the other lords can respect or at least, they don't hate him with the primal fury they reserve for Jaime. He has no blood-feud with the North. Most importantly, he is the only Lannister who understands that a debt is paid with more than just gold."
Tywin's bitterness reached a new peak. To hand his legacy, the Rock he had spent fifty years polishing to the "Imp" he had spent fifty years loathing was a punishment worse than the Wall.
"He took the black, Eddard," Tywin argued, grasping at a final straw. "He is at the Wall now. He swore an oath."
"He took the black because he was framed for a murder he didn't commit," Eddard countered with a half-smile. "I will write to King Stannis. I will provide the testimony of Varys and Pycelle. Stannis is a man of law; he will issue a royal pardon. And as for Jon Snow... he's my brother-in-law. If the King pardons a man, the Lord Commander will not keep him against his will."
Eddard leaned in closer. "Precisely because Tyrion is a dwarf and unloved by his own kin, he will need my support to rule the West. That makes him loyal. That makes him efficient. And that makes you a man whose house survives. Do you agree, Lord Tywin?"
Tywin Lannister, the Shield of Lannisport and the Great Lion of the West, closed his eyes. The defeat was absolute. He nodded once, a stiff, agonizing motion.
"That's good," Eddard said, helping the old man up. "The details can wait for the scribes. For now, tell your men the war is over."
The news spread through the Westerlands like a summer fire.
The Great Lion had knelt. The "Winter Wizard" was now the Lord of the West.
Across the hills and the coastal plains, the tension that had gripped the land for years finally broke. Commoners emerged from their caves and cellars, weeping with a mix of grief for their lost sons and relief that the harvest might finally be their own again.
Eddard was not a man to linger on vengeance. He issued a general pardon to the remaining Westerland lords, accepting their fealty in the Great Hall of Crakehall. He announced that a grand coronation and tourney would be held at Harrenhal, where he would reward those who had served well and select new talents for his court.
The money for the rewards, naturally, came from the Lannister vaults. He was rich beyond the dreams of any Karstark ancestor.
The camp outside Crakehall transformed into a festival. Peddlers hawked cured meats and ale, while bards, hoping for a coin tried to write songs of the "Lion's Mercy." Eddard refused them all; he had no need for artificial fame that might irritate his new vassals.
Amidst the revelry, hundreds of ravens took flight from the Crakehall rookery, carrying the word to the ends of the continent: The West had fallen, not to a sword, but to a sunburst.
King's Landing. The Red Keep.
Inside the Small Council chamber, the new iron stoves from the Riverlands emitted a dull red glow, chasing the autumn chill from the room.
Stannis Baratheon sat at the head of the table, his expression shifting from a dark scowl to a look of utter disbelief as he read the letter in his hand. He let out a sharp snort and handed the parchment to his Hand, Davos Seaworth.
Davos, whose missing fingers always ached when bad news arrived, scanned the lines. His eyes widened.
"He's crowned himself," Davos whispered. "The Lord of the West. And he invites you to his coronation at Harrenhal... as a guest."
"He is a false king!" Lord Monford Velaryon, the Master of Ships, spat. "He steals the West while we bleed for the Crown! Your Grace, give the word, and I will lead the fleet to Maidenpool!"
"And do what, Monford?" Stannis ground his teeth. "Fight the giants? Battle the wizard who just made Tywin Lannister kneel in the mud? We have no army to spare."
Lord Eldon Estermont, the Master of Coin, coughed into his sleeve. "The Hand is right. We need help. The Tyrells are begging for the Royal Fleet to save the Reach from the Ironborn. They claim to be loyal, but they only seek a shield."
"We must help the Reach," Davos said firmly. "If the Ironborn take Highgarden, the South is lost. But to do that, we need the White Harbor fleet to block the Sunset Sea. We need Eddard Karstark's cooperation."
Stannis looked at the hearth, the fire reflecting in his cold blue eyes. He had the throne, but the Karstark boy had the map.
"Write the pardon for the dwarf," Stannis commanded, his voice a low, bitter growl. "And tell the 'Lord' we shall see him at Harrenhal. If he wants to be a King, I will see if his crown fits his head."
[System Notification: Major Strategic Victory: The West Subjugated.]
[Status: Tywin and Jaime Lannister assigned to the Night's Watch.]
[Political Outcome: Tyrion Lannister named Heir to Casterly Rock.]
[Achievement Unlocked: Kingmaker.]
Plz Drop Some Power Stones.
For Advance/Early Chapters:
patreon.com/Shadownarch_