(A/N: Sorry for up and disappearing, I got into some legal trouble and I took yesterday off to get some desperately needed rest after about 3 days of running around on 8 hours of sleep between them. We did somehow beat the goal for last week so, I'll do a double release for that tomorrow.)
Tywin Lannister was the Warden of the West, the Shield of Casterly Rock, and the Head of House Lannister... and as all knew, he was not one for humor, not one for forgiveness and not one for loss.
The nature of his son's defeat at the pass was odd and impossible but he was not the sort of fool to deny reality and force willful ignorance upon his mind to calm his heart. He accepted it as fact, and changed his plans accordingly to account for the sorcerer that had driven the pass to ruin.
His forces had swiftly crossed the mountains under his own command along the Gold Road and would move North, burning and smashing the rivermen before the Northern Host could reinforce them.
At the same time, he had chosen to attack from the South to force a pitch battle against whatever resistance they were meant to encounter... This was disadvantageous, he accepted that but it allowed him to deal with the new variable.
Magic was dead in Westeros... but it was not entirely gone, Tywin accepted this but he also knew that it was limited in nature, and demanded great cost from its wielder. The sorcerer had turned the battle around by forcibly shutting down the encounter using the land around them.
On an open field, he had no such advantage.
They could flank him easily, and make an example of him for those who would follow in his steps.
Tywin watched with calm eyes as his men crossed the Blackwater Rush, steadying his horse as his golden cape fluttered in the wind... His thoughts were undeterred by the rain that washed down his aged face.
He would be joined by his son's forces soon enough, and there was a new host being raised in the Westerlands as well, in preparation for the odd chance that they were thwarted by some unknown means.
He would burn the Riverlands for their folly, and the North as well.
His grandson, even if he was a foolish oaf, would rule the Seven Kingdoms, and the legacy of House Lannister would be preserved for a thousand years to come... This was the war he would be remembered for, and this was the war that would determine how all spoke of him after his death.
"We march steadily, my lord... If you would allow it, I would like to ride ahead with my men."
Tywin's pale green eyes flickered from the men below to the youth at his side.
Addam Marbrand's long copper hair stuck to his fair skin as he regarded Tywin with calm but hopeful dark eyes. A golden cape hung from his shoulder, and bronzed plate armour concealed and protected his form.
The man was ambitious and daring, but completely loyal, "You'll take Pinkmaiden and Acorn Hall. Join Gregor Clegane and see to it that the rivermen don't trouble our march to Harrenhal."
Addam flinched at his words, clenching the fist he had around the reins of his red courser, "Yes, my Lord... Shall I join you after?"
"Raid the land." Tywin shook his head, "Be certain that they can not recover."
Robb Stark would come upon a kingdom of ash and bone.
Tywin had taken a wager here... He was certain that the Baratheon brothers would clash amongst themselves first with how they individually were, this gave him ample time to cripple the North and the Riverlands before moving on to quell the rest of those who would rise against them.
He had also ordered a small contingent to make for King's Landing, to reinforce the city in case of any unexpected events and it was fact that the city's defenses would allow them to delay any enemy forces long enough for a message to reach him.
Just as he was about to return his gaze to the forces below, a strange glint caught his eye. Tywin was not a man to doubt himself and quickly narrowed his eyes at the small hill in the distance.
There was, beyond a doubt, something there.
The figure of a man, far enough that he couldn't note any features but close enough for Tywin to know that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him.
Without moving his head, Tywin spoke calmly, "Send a rider to that hill."
However, as fate would have it, that proved entirely unnecessary when crimson lightning arched from the skies above and struck the river, startling beasts and men alike as they broke into a frenzy and started crossing to either side of the river as fast their feet would carry them.
Word spread quick, among marching men spread quicker still.
There was no man alive, at least among his men, that did not know what crimson lightning entailed. It was made so by Tywin's own order, so that they could prepare themselves for the situation should it befall them.
Tywin dismounted quickly, certain that his steed would betray him to its baser instincts.
"Riders, now. Cavalry from the side. Archers will fire at will." He calmly gave the order, "What are you waiting for? Move before he floods the river."
They faced a sorcerer, but the sorcerer was a man too.
That thought changed in the blink of an eye when the crimson lightning came charging through the ground like a raging beast, unearthing grass and soil as it tore open a path through his men, ripping scores of soldiers to shreds under the shocked eyes of his commanders.
The winds slowed down to a halt and the rain disappeared... Then, the grey skies swirled, bringing with them a different rain, one that held not water but thunder.
It defaced the hillside, violated the landscape, burnt away the river and killed over thousands of tens in an unending surge of current that made all, from the greatest knights, to the lowly foot soldiers, call for their gods and run to save their lives.
Less than a quarter of them had lost their lives, but the way it came to be was so utterly divine and inhuman in nature that the entire force crumbled and ran away, with none having the courage to stop them from doing so.
Tywin... did not run, he merely watched with a face that portrayed no hint of his disbelief at the very real sight before him.
"What is... this?"
In a terrifying turn of events, his question was answered.
"Believe it or not, this is far tamer than what I did to the Iron Islands." The words were spoken politely, "But they were worse so it checks out."
"Why?"
"I've come to learn that I truly might be a bleeding heart."
Tywin turned to look at his assailant, beads of sweat mixing with the rain that soaked his features... It was a man, as tall as the Hound that served his grandson but with none of the horridness.
"Are you a Targaryen?"
He had hair like the Targaryens but extremely short, and calm crimson eyes flecked with gold. The stranger shook his head gracefully, "I do not have a thing for my sister."
"What... do you want?" Tywin inquired calmly, as calm as one could be in the face of one who had destroyed an army and looked as if he'd taken a walk in the park.
"I'll extend an olive branch. Retreat, go back to your hole." He waved a hand at the retreating men, who'd abandoned their liege lord, and then cast a glance at the frozen commanders and nobility around them, "At least until the Northern Host arrives. Stop harassing the poor folk... or you can attack again, see if it goes any better the next time."
He was nonchalant, uncaring, and fully capable of slaughtering them all.
Tywin's lips faltered, "Why?"
"Does there have to be a why? The Northern way agrees with my own morals and I can have fun with minimal effort... or would you rather I side with you? Pillaging and raping with a god complex?" He explained with a faint smile, "You guys are backstabbing cunts... I don't know how anyone would side with you."
"King Joffrey i-"
Insultingly enough, Tywin was cut off, to add to it, there was truly nothing he could do but take it, "King Joffrey is fucked in the head, cruel beyond measure and born from the Queen shagging her brother dearest."
Tywin's eyes widened ever so slightly at his words, "Fal-"
"I can smell your blood, you know?" The stranger explained, "He's got the same smell as you, and Jaime, and the Queen... but not the King. That's cause he doesn't have any-... Oh wait... you didn't know?"
Before Tywin could answer, the Targaryen-like stranger spoke again, "Go back to King's Landing or something. I feel curious about what you'll do next since your plan was via-"
"Vile monster!" Addam Marbrand shouted out, drawing the steel sword at his waist and lunging at the sorcerer with his sword raised over his head... only for the stranger to step to the side.
He took a hold of the youth's head before ripping it clean off his shoulders and tossing it aside as the rest of the fresh corpse fell to the ground with a thud.
"How rude... as I was saying..." He wrenched the blade from the corpse's grip and held it up. Then, to Tywin's disbelief, he swung it into his own forearm. The sword snapped and broke in two.
"It wouldn't have worked since I'm not a mage build." He patted Tywin on the shoulder with a toothy smile, "Just be happy I'm feeling nice and didn't go Bayle on you. The name's Karl, by the way, think about me when you decide to attack next."
The old lion's mind raced with a million thoughts at once, but as a battle commander, and a man who sought to propel his House to even further heights, there was one question that came to his mind, "Do you care for the Baratheons and the Tyrells?"
"Not really? Unless you're doing the same thing to the commoners there too... Then you and I might meet again?" Karl seemed confused by his own words, stopping in his tracks and cocking his head for a moment before giving him a small salute, "Cheers then, I'll be off. Remember, the Riverlands are off-limits for now... unless you want another visit from me."
Tywin Lannister... who believed that he would die soon enough from age found himself... relieved to have his life spared.
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Hope you enjoyed.
Comment your thoughts and/or suggestions for the story bros.
As always, 800 PS.
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A typical rout in history happened once 20-25% of the forces were dead and pitch battles were frowned upon, this is something ASOIAF ignores fully despite people largely being regular humans and dragons being the oddity. Supply lines and logistics were also ignored most of the time, and travel times are completely incoherent in a number of instances.
Karl doesn't have this problem, he moves faster because horse is blessed and dragonified, while the Lannister Host was routed fully by virtue of him literally calling down a rain of lightning on them.
If you've noticed, he's slowly but surely adapting and changing, becoming more human.
Typically, he'd never even have agreed to the request to hold them off. Once accepted, he'd have wiped them out... which is why he's being deflective, somewhat mean but also confused in his talk with Tywin while being unwittingly brutal in the way that's ingrained into him.
That said, why do you think he spared the Lannisters?
I think you know it's not a creative choice on my part seeing as the whole canon plot for the later books got practically dismantled at this point.