Before the story begins I want to make it very clear, that this story is a tribute to the 2004 German movie Downfall, Der Untergang.

The story is in the setting that Robb Stark married Roslin Frey and earned the support of Lord Frey, but in 'Operation Brandon,' an unsuccessful attempt to drive south and capture Highgarden Robb lost almost all of his cavalry and a third of his infantry. The Lannisters begin pushing north and storm Moat Calin. Two Lannister hosts under command of Jaime and Randyll Tarly enter the North and begin pushing towards Winterfell. A few characters, such as Brienne, Yara/Asha and Joffrey have little or no appearances, for the story is mostly focused on the North and King's Landing.

This is my first time writing Fanfic, so I am sorry if there might be a few mistakes. If there is anything you dislike about the story or feel I should improve, please feel free to tell me so, constructive criticism is much welcomed. A review is always welcome.

Chapter 1: The Race for Winterfell

Tywin was in a high mood, although he did not let it show.

He had just received a Raven from the North. Moat Calin had finally fallen, at the result of 10,000 Lannister casualties. But it was worth it, since the gateway to the North was open. The Trident was under full Lannister military control now, the Riverlords and their bannermen hastily fleeing to the North by sea in the Seaguard Evacuation.

When he entered the small council room, the Lords of the small council were debating something over a large map of the North spread on the table. Outside the tall windows the pale autumn sunshine shone bright patterns on the lavishly carpeted ground, a large Myrish carpet embroidered with Aegon I's coronation in Oldtown that had witnessed all the Small Council sessions since the days of Maegor I. In one corner was a large wooden screen imported from the Summer Isles, a thousand proud beasts and a thousand beautiful birds cavorted in bold paint. Two Valyrian sphinxes flanked the grand doors, glaring at him with eyes of Garnet.

Tywin gave a quick scan across the counseling room and the councilors within. He was pleased to notice neither Joffrey nor Cersei was present. When Tywin entered they all stood and bowed.

'Sit. I hope you all are aware that Moat Calin has fallen in the North.'

'I am. Tidings most glad,' Pycelle said, bobbing his head in a way that reminded Tywin of a turtle he saw yesterday. There is no strength left in this man, he thought.

'Glad tidings indeed,' Littlefinger agreed, his voice smooth as silk.'

'And soon the lands north of the Moat shall succumb to our bold king's rule,' Varys said in glad tones, his voice sweet and foul as rot. Tywin felt repulsive at the very sight of the eunuch.

'Please sit, my Lords,' Tywin gestured at the chairs. 'May I inquire what the discussion was?'

'We were planning how to best control the North as soon as possible, Lord Tywin,' Varys smiled in a way that made him sick in the stomach, 'we have had quite a few ideas.'

'If 'we' means the noble Lord Tyrell and Prince Martell, yes,' said Tyrion dryly.

Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell laughed. 'I said this before, and I will say it again. You Lannisters have two strong armies in the North, 7000 strong, all heavy horse. Push them north full speed, form a heavy hammer and smash through the Stark defenses. Destroy Winterfell and end the Young Wolf's kingdom. Simple as that. The Lightning War, some of my friends across the narrow sea would like to say. Blitzkrieg, in the Rhoynar tongues. But Lord Tyrell had raised quite some objections.'

Mace Tyrell nodded ponderously. The Lord of Highgarden was a man with a red face and balding brown hair, but a handsome man nonetheless. 'My Lords. I must raise objection to this most absurd plan. No commander, not even Ser Jaime or my loyal Randyll can hope to conquer an entire kingdom with seven thousand horse, let alone a kingdom as large as the North. My Lords, I suggest we wait. Give me the honor, and I will gather thirty thousand men in a fortnight and lead them north. Push along a wide front, subdue the lesser castles surrounding Winterfell first. After such, we may begin the siege of Winterfell.'

'In case you have not noticed the map here, Lord Tyrell,' Martell said sarcastically, his voice spiced with the accents of the Rhoyne, 'the North is a large place. To subdue to lesser castles would be mad, the procedure would take well over a year, and a siege in winter would be madder still. We would lose half our men and all our horses in the first snowstorm. We should aim directly for Winterfell, slay the wolf and the pups scatter. Use the last few months of Autumn for a fierce attack.'

'The Manderlys have built up quite a line of defense in the east, however, and the Starks have men in the west and have fortified the Kingsroad.' Tyrion pointed out.

He studied the large parchment map. It was a fine, detailed map of the North, beginning from the Wall and ending at the Neck, with roads, towns, castles, keeps and strongholds marked neatly. Small statues of wolves, merman, towers, flayed men and fish represented Robb Stark's current forces in the north, a mixed race of Northmen, Riverlords and sellswords. Some nine thousand remained of the twenty thousand that had marched south.

Both Martell and Tyrell were stupid, he decided, Martell having courage but lacking good sense and Tyrell lacking the courage as well. Both of their plan had merits but were absurd to the bone. There was no way to overwhelm the North with a mere seven thousand men but it would be too long to wait for a second host to arrive from Highgarden. They would have to begin the invasion operation before the Northern winter came or all was lost. A plan formed in his mind.

Tywin glanced at Kevan, his brother. Kevan understood the hint and rose. 'My Lords,' said his brother, 'mayhaps Lord Tywin has some way to settle the dispute.' Kevan was always his vanguard in the council, clearing the path out for himself.

All silenced. 'As it happens I do,' said Tywin. He gestured at the map and spoke.

'Tyrell and Martell both make good points, but neither of their plans is plausible.' Prince Oberyn looked amused by his remark, Lord Tyrell looked wounded. 'We cannot hope to subdue the entire North before winter comes, but we also cannot hope to capture Winterfell with 7000 horse. I have a plan, my Lords, hear me out.' Tywin gestured at the far end of the table.

'Beyond the lands shown by the map there is still two cavalry hosts stationed in the south, close enough from Moat Calin to arrive within a week. 6000 Reach Calvary in Duskendale, 5000 Lannister Horse in Riverrun. Give these two armies to two able commanders, and command them to drive North as fast as possible. They will join forces with our hosts in the North and then we shall drive for Winterfell with a larger host. The host shall drive North in two proud armies, the Westerland Horse under command of Ser Jaime shall drive along the East Coast, the Reach Cavalry from the West Coast. Think of it as a race. The Armies shall contest for first place.' Competition was healthy, thought Tywin, and ensured maximum efficiency.

'The Race for Winterfell,' Martell laughed. 'I like it.'

'So, father,' said Tyrion, 'a mighty plan, but a race requires a prize for the Champion.'

'The prize is the North,' said Tywin, enjoying the shocked looks on the councilors' faces. 'After Robb Stark is dead I will make sure his brothers die in an unfortunate accident, making Sansa the heir of the North. If the Westerland army reaches Winterfell first we shall capture Sansa Stark and marry her to Tyrion, giving the lands and incomes of the North under the name of Casterly Rock. If the Reach army wins, Sansa will be given to Ser Loras Tyrell as wife.' This seemed a rather large gamble, risking the Lannister dominion in the North for mere efficiency, but Tywin had faith in Jaime. Jaime was a true Lannister, thought he, as strong as I and valiant as Tygett.

'Father,' Tyrion raised his voice again, 'may I inquire which poor bastards have you in mind to command these armies?'

'The Reach Army, Ser Garlan Flowers, natural son of Lord Tyrell.' Mace Tyrell nodded his head in thanks. 'As for the Westerland army, you will command them, Tyrion.'

Tywin enjoyed a few moments of satisfaction at the shocked look on Tyrion's face. Oberyn Martell was laughing out loud, Kevan was grinning, even Pycelle managed a twist on his lips that might have been a smile. Finnaly Tywin could not control himself and let out a chuckle.