Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars: The Old Republic, which is the property of BioWare and LucasArts. Neither do I own A Song of Ice and Fire, which is owned by G.R.R. Martin.
Falling Shadows
Chapter 9
"I, Lord Tywin Lannister, pledge my loyalty to the Immortal Emperor of the Sith, and submit myself, my family, and our heirs, to his mercy until the end of time. By the Grace of the Seven that are One, so say I, Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West, and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands."
Darth Achaia nodded in acknowledgement. "And in the Name of the Immortal Emperor of the Sith," he said. "I, Darth Achaia, Lord of the Sith, bear witness. May the Force serve you well, Lord Tywin Lannister, as you serve the Emperor."
With a snap-hiss, Darth Achaia deactivated his saberstaff. "Rise, my lord." He said, and gestured for Tywin to follow. "We have much to discuss."
Tywin said nothing as he did as commanded, and followed Darth Achaia across the Impetuous' bridge, to where a large holo-table was standing. At present it was displaying the city of Lannisport below, with the Impetuous hovering overhead. Order was being restored with brutal efficiency, between the City Watch of Lannisport and the soldiers of the Sith Empire disembarked from the dreadnought hovering overhead.
"I must admit, Lord Lannister," Darth Achaia began. "You have quite the reputation to your name. It is quite impressive, and shows much promise as to what you can offer us."
"And what is it have you heard of me, Lord Achaia?" Tywin asked, carefully keeping his voice and facial expression neutral.
"First and foremost, that you are an efficient administrator." Darth Achaia replied. "For all that your fiefdom has great deposits of valuable metals, that is both blessing and curse in equal measure. Properly harnessed, it can bring immense wealth and prosperity to the fief at large, but if mismanaged, then it is quite likely the fief would be but a dismal mine, with wealth and prosperity monopolized by a small handful."
Tywin shrugged. "I take my responsibilities seriously, Lord Achaia." He said. "The Westerlands are my birthright, but it belongs not solely to me, but to my family, our ancestors, and our descendants. Furthermore, the smallfolk who dwell upon our lands rightfully look to us for their protection and wellbeing. I would not insult my forebears and my descendants by failing to take care of what was entrusted to me by birth. And neither would I have any reason to deny those under my rule what little they ask of me. At the very least, as those who provide the labor to ensure our prosperity, the smallfolk deserve a measure of reward. A peaceful and content existence is a good reward for loyal service, I daresay."
"Yes," Darth Achaia said with a nod. "Serve well, and your masters will treat you well. And what power one possesses today is not one's alone, but is sum and product of those who came before, and will one day be passed on to another who will follow in one's footsteps."
"As you say, Lord Achaia."
"It's not just the Westerlands, though." Darth Achaia continued. He pressed the controls of the holo-table, which zoomed out to show first the Westerlands, and then the whole of Westeros. Tywin stared at the display with veiled wonder. He knew not how such machinery worked, but he could see how much more accurate it was than even the best maps produced by the Citadel or the navigation guilds of the Free Cities. And he understood its potential value quite well, along with everything else the Sith Empire offered.
At the very least, not being obliterated by this…metal, behemoth which hung over the skies of Lannisport was an obvious benefit.
"You served as…Hand, was it?"
"That is correct, my lord."
Darth Achaia nodded. "You served as Hand to the King for one King Aerys II." He said. "Also known as the Mad King, though at the time his madness had yet to truly reach its nadir. Or perhaps, was that also your influence?"
Tywin took a deep breath. "I would not go so far as to say I kept Aerys' madness in check," he modestly said. "As much as I managed it."
"Of course," Darth Achaia said. "Continuing from before though, from what records we have studied as provided by your people's maesters, under your tenure the Seven Kingdoms enjoyed a degree of peace, prosperity, and stability not seen in generations, and which came to an end following your dismissal by the Mad King. And even under King Robert's rule, the Seven Kingdoms have not returned to that which it enjoyed under your governance."
"Lord Arryn is an able administrator in his own right." Tywin said, coming to the defense of a fellow Lord Paramount and a man he genuinely respected. "I would say that his fault lay in his inability to manage King Robert's spendthrift ways, and not from any real incompetence on his part."
"Yes…your records and our analysis suggests as such." Darth Achaia said with a slow nod. "Therefore, it can be said beyond doubt that you are an efficient and capable administrator."
Tywin said nothing, merely giving a small bow of acknowledgement at such praise. "Moving on," Darth Achaia said. "You have also shown yourself to be at once ruthless and pragmatic, and in a good way, at that."
"How would you say so, Lord Achaia?"
"You are not cruel for the sake of cruelty." Darth Achaia said. "And as previously mentioned, you have brought prosperity to those under your governance. To you, cruelty is a means to an end, and not a means in itself. And such is worthy of respect."
"…I imagine, you refer to the Targaryens and the Reynes?"
"Yes," Darth Achaia said with a smile and a nod. "I will not speak of the circumstances behind the Reynes' rising to such prominence as to be able to pose a real challenge and threat to your family's rule, but your successful suppression of their revolt, plus their fates and the example it set speak for themselves. Likewise, your neutrality during the earlier phase of Robert's Rebellion, when things seemed to be balanced on the knife's edge, speaks of a pragmatic approach when it came to choosing one side or the other."
"…I will admit that much." Tywin conceded after a moment. "To be sure, at the start of the rebellion, the rebels had the support of four out of the Seven Kingdoms, but of those four, three – the Stormlands, the Riverlands, and the Vale – had partially spent themselves beforehand putting down loyalists in their ranks. And of the kingdoms which supported King Aerys, the Reach – which have the largest army and fleet and wealth second only to the west in the Seven Kingdoms – was among them."
"And the potential rewards were not in consideration?" Darth Achaia asked with a smile.
"From the very beginning, supporting Robert always had the bigger of potential rewards." Tywin said.
"Did it?" Darth Achaia asked with narrowed eyes. "You would have known of then-Lord Baratheon's devotion to that northern princess, and you could not have known she would have died in her little prison in Dorne by the end of the conflict. Do you really think he could have been persuaded to set her aside for your daughter had she lived?"
"She could have been disposed of easily." Tywin remarked, and Darth Achaia laughed.
"Indeed," he said with a nod and a smile. "But as one with the most to gain in such a scenario, suspicion would have fallen on you."
"Mere suspicion is not enough." Tywin responded. "There has to be proof as well. Without it, they could not have moved against me. Lord Arryn would not have allowed it, and Lord Stark is not nearly as bloodthirsty to do so either. And in her absence, Lord Arryn would always support Cersei as King Robert's queen, if only to ensure our support in stabilizing his reign."
"Yes," Darth Achaia said with a slow nod. "Very impressive indeed…but, what of the rewards of supporting King Aerys? What of those?"
"At the very least I would have regained the position of Hand." Tywin mused. "Having my daughter as queen would have required more complex…maneuvers, but there are other ways to secure power. And ultimately, all are academic. What is done is done, unless your people have the means to turn back time."
"Alas, we do not." Darth Achaia said, and Tywin blinked at the sudden and sheer malevolence that briefly flickered over the Sith Lord's face. "Do not fear. It is not for you, but for our ancestral enemies, and the wrongs they have done to our people."
"I…see…"
"How you ultimately secured your place in King Robert's good graces speak for themselves." Darth Achaia continued. "Though I must say, in this case a bit more subtlety was required. The sheer brutality of the Targaryen children's death may have caused more inconvenience, and potential trouble, in the future than there could have been."
"…this is true." Tywin said with a sigh. "The threat they posed by virtue of their claim to the Iron Throne had to be neutralized, but in hindsight, sending Clegane and Lorch may not have been the best decision."
"…in any case, it's an academic matter." Darth Achaia said after a moment. "What matters is that you are able to manage such concerns in the future."
"If it comes to pass that I must, then I will do so, one way or another." Tywin said.
"Good," Darth Achaia said with a nod. "As I said, your reputation speaks well of you, and this short conversation between us has proven so to me."
Darth Achaia again pressed the controls of the holo-table, and this time Tywin could not hide his awe. Not when the whole world was before his eyes. Not just Westeros and those parts of Essos they knew of, much less the legends of Ulthos and those small parts of dread Sothoryos that had been charted, but all of them. He could see all of Essos, stretching from the Narrow Sea to the legendary and unknown shores of the Sunset Sea, and Sothoryos stretching far to the south. There was Ulthos as well, located far west and south of Westeros, and in Essos' case, to their east and south.
"Westeros is but a small part of your world." Darth Achaia said. "And this world shall be part of an even bigger whole, the Sith Empire."
And then Tywin witnessed as he saw the world he was standing on as it was part of something bigger. One world among several circling their Sun, and how it was one of many billions across the night sky, a galaxy in an infinitely-vaster universe. And of that galaxy, he saw the Sith Empire as it stretched out across the stars, from the edges of the outer darkness, to the very heart of the galaxy.
"Lord Lannister," Darth Achaia said. "As of this moment, consider yourself a candidate for the position of Imperial Governor of this world. Know that such a position is hereditary, and as such, given your…regard, for your family's future, such a position will be theirs as well."
In that moment, whatever resentment and frustration Tywin had felt at the Sith for such a humiliation as they had inflicted on him on this day ceased to be. Not when they had offered him the chance to make his family the greatest not just in Westeros or even the known world, but across the entire world as it truly was.
To be sure, there was much work still to be done, to gain such a position. But let it not be said that he did not accept challenges worthy of him, and with equally-worthy rewards.
And perhaps, just perhaps, in time, the Lannister name would not just be one of a single world, but of others as well.
"I will put every effort I have to prove myself worthy of such a post." Tywin said.
"No doubt," Darth Achaia said, before gesturing to one side. A young man stepped forward, and gave a bow. "This is Lieutenant Sek'nos Yarrow. I am assigning him as your aide, and will provide you with information and context with regard to the Sith Empire and the galaxy as a whole. Lieutenant, I trust you will answer all of Lord Lannister's questions and concerns to the best of your ability?"
"It will be done, my lord." The lieutenant said with another bow.
Darth Achaia smiled. "We shall see." He said.
Sith tanks and other vehicles rumbled over the Twins, the bridges rebuilt over the night thanks to hard and indeed, beyond-called-for labor on the part of Imperial Army engineers. Requests for commendations all around had already been filed, and General Granger had made it clear he would personally see them expedited to a positive outcome.
As for House Frey of the Crossing, well…
…when the Imperial Army had arrived the previous day, Lord Frey's emissaries had expressed willingness to allow them to pass over the bridge and even to submit to the Sith Empire…if the Sith were willing to pay the toll, of course. General Granger was ill-amused, and when an invitation for further talks was extended to be held inside the Twins, the general had decided he had no time left to waste on what were clearly pointless discussions.
Soldiers had been airdropped into the Twins, and seizing the defenses had opened the gates and allowed more soldiers to storm the fortified bridges. Lord Frey was literally dragged out from under his bed, and along with the other, adult males of his family, had been lined up against a wall and shot. The women and children were spared, but were confined to quarters regardless.
Imperial engineers had then gone to work, work that had gone smoothly, and was now bearing fruit. "Over fifty per cent of our forces have crossed the river, sir." The general's adjutant reported. General Granger nodded, standing at a window to look down at the bridges below, where tanks, trucks, and other vehicles were rumbling along to the shouts and gestures of NCOs.
"And the resupply?" he asked, tearing off a strip of local bread and putting it in his mouth. He could say a lot about the locals, but they made good food.
"Proceeding as planned, sir." The adjutant replied, and checking his data-slate. "Units are being resupplied for active combat operations upon reaching predetermined positions on the east bank."
"Good," General Granger said. "And the enemy?"
"The Royal Army apparently conducted a nighttime march." The adjutant said. "Their positions are now fourteen kilometers closer than originally expected. However, orbital reconnaissance has indicated that their march has come to a stop this morning, presumably to allow the troops to rest and take food."
"I see…" General Granger said while stroking his chin. "Do you have a map of the area?"
The adjutant took his data-slate, made some changes, and handed it to the general. General Granger studied the map, tapping it a few times to make a note of the geography, and then handed it back to his adjutant. "Excellent," he said. "Once our crossing and resupply is complete, we'll march to engage the enemy."
"Should I inform the division commanders, sir?"
"Do so."
The adjutant saluted. "I'll do it immediately, sir." He said. General Granger returned the salute, and with a nod dismissed his adjutant. The man hurried off, while the general returned to the window to resume watching the troops cross below.
Hours later, and the Imperial and Royal Armies were preparing to face off against each other in the rolling plains and low hills of the Riverlands. The Royal Army numbered well over a hundred thousand men, drawn from the Crownlands, the Stormlands, the Riverlands, and the Vale.
In contrast, the Imperial Army – or rather the force which had crossed over the Twins and would attack the Royal Army head-on – numbered only approximately sixty thousand men. And had all things been otherwise equal, the Royal Army's victory would be all but guaranteed.
But the Royal Army was a pre-industrial force. They had no firearms, whether advanced energy weapons or even slug throwers, much less tanks and other vehicles. They had no artillery, even primitive ones like catapults or ballistae.
In contrast, the Imperial Army was a modern force, its soldiers equipped with NBC and vacuum-rated duraplast armor, resistant against energy weapons and virtually-immune against slug throwers. They had tanks, they had APCs, they had trucks, they had artillery, they had air and even orbital support.
Not that Robert knew it, of course. To be sure, even from a distance he could see the gleam of sunlight off what looked massive, horseless chariots, but that was all he thought them to be. Chariots produced and driven by sorcery and witchcraft, formidable to be sure but far from invincible, especially when faced with true bravery and heroism.
Yes, just like the Targaryens, these invaders would know only death at the end of his hammer, and the weapons of the men who followed him. He would have vengeance for Ned, and afterwards, against all the craven traitors who dared kneel before these invaders.
"Should we call for a parley, Your Grace?" Ser Arys Oakheart, newly-appointed Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, asked.
"No!" Robert said firmly. "No words. No parley. We will waste no further time with these invaders who come uninvited into our lands, slaying our people, and despoiling our homes. There is only the enemy before us, and we will face them in battle, and crush them without mercy. By the gods I swear today, justice is with us."
"…as you wish, Your Grace."
Robert drew his hammer, and rode up along the frontline. Crownland and Stormland infantry formed the center of the Royal Army, while to the left and right the Riverland infantry formed the wings. Vale infantry were held back in reserve, while knights from all the kingdoms present stayed back along the edges of the wings, prepared to ride in either to intercept enemy cavalry or to take advantage of any openings that would be opened in the middle of the battle, and thus rout the enemy.
"Ser Brynden," he ordered. "Move to flank the enemy and collapse their right wing as we advance."
"Yes, Your Grace." Ser Brynden Tully acknowledged before riding off to take command of the left wing.
"Lord Mallister," Robert continued. "The right wing will cover our flank, and stand fast while facing the enemy head-on. Let's give the Blackfish an anvil to break the enemy against."
"Yes, Your Grace!"
Robert rode to the end of the line, and then turning his horse, rode back the way he came, hammer held high. "Stand, soldiers of Westeros!" he roared. "The enemy stands before us! They will bloody our swords, and hammer at our shields. But we shall stand, we shall march forward, and we shall fear no enemy! For today, we defend our homes! For today, we march to victory! For today, we celebrate at the setting of the Sun!"
Cheers erupted from the army, swords and spears and other weapons raised shaking into the air. "Ours is the Fury!" Robert roared, and behind him, his army took up his house's words.
"OURS IS THE FURY! OURS IS THE FURY! OURS IS THE FURY!"
War horns rang deep and loud, and with the sound of countless feet striking the ground, the Royal Army of the Seven Kingdoms marched forward, into battle. Over a hundred thousand men, flying thousands of banners of different colors, sunlight shining bright and clear from weapons and armor of steel and iron.
Imperial artillery batteries opened fire, sending thunder rumbling across the battlefield. And then the entire frontline went up in plumes of fire and smoke, entire square kilometers of grassland and infantry simply ceasing to be. The Royal Army seemed to shake as one, and in the midst of his men, even Robert seemed to be taken aback.
"What sorcery is this?" he whispered.
And then the artillery fired again, and again, and again. Explosions crawled up the Royal Army, which broke and fled behind them. Then the Imperial armor began to advance, quickly rolling forward to maximum battle speed, battle cannons and coaxial heavy repeating blasters opening fire at will and simply slaughtering anything and everything they came across.
The Imperial artillery also continued to fire, this time targeting the rear as to cut off the Royal Army's retreat. Supremacy fighters and Extinction bombers screamed down, laser cannons blazing and proton bombs flashing as they flew in low over the Vale men waiting in reserve to the Royal Army's rear. Tens of thousands died in mere seconds as the combined bombing and strafing run turned their entire line into a sea of fire, the survivors breaking and running.
And even that would not be enough to save them, Supremacy fighters moving to pursue, laser cannons blazing away as they strafed the Vale Lords again and again and again. Behind them the rest of the Royal Army died.
Smoke rose from the ruined battlefield, from patches of grass set ablaze by the fighting, to great pyres of dead Westerosi. Imperial soldiers tossed dead bodies onto the pyres, while other soldiers marched surrendered Westerosi soldiers away, to holding camps being prepared around the Twins.
In the middle of the battlefield, captured lords sullenly but fearfully stood against each other, counting amongst their number Robert and his Kingsguard. Imperial soldiers stood watch, weapons ready to be raised and fired on a moment's notice.
Other soldiers waited, forming an honor guard as the Impetuous loomed ever closer, before a shuttle finally emerged and flew down to the ground, escorted by a pair of Supremacy fighters. Alighting to the ground, the boarding ramp extended with the hiss of equalizing pressure, and moments later Darth Achaia emerged from the depths of his shuttle.
General Granger approached and bowed. "The Royal Army is defeated, and we have captured the king." He said.
"Well done, general." Darth Achaia said with a nod, walking forward at a brisk pace, the general keeping pace. "I assume the king is among…those?"
"That is correct, my lord." General Granger said with a nod. "The others are the lords we captured in the battle."
"They will be made to kneel soon enough." Darth Achaia said. "Mere lordlings they might be, but they will have their uses. Should they prove their value, then it is only to be expected they be rewarded in some way."
"Yes, of course my lord."
The Sith Lord and the Imperial Army general walked to where the noble prisoners were gathered. "To the one who styles himself, the King of the Seven Kingdoms," Darth Achaia began. "Come forward."
There was a moment of silence, save for the wind and the sound of men working nearby, and then Robert strode closer, his face one of frustrated wrath. "You dare summon a king?" he growled.
Lightning flashed and crackled and sent Robert flying. The Kingsguard yelled and rushed forward, Imperial soldiers making to raise their weapons…only to find the Force wrapped around them, keeping them from moving.
Your loyalty is commendable, but I will handle this.
The soldiers relaxed at their lord's thoughts slipping into their minds, and simply watched as lightning lashed out and bathed the Kingsguard in its brilliant intensity. Cloth burned and metal melted, the knights not even able to scream as they were reduced to burnt-out husks.
"Your army is defeated." Darth Achaia said, advancing on Robert, who stared in horror from where he was lying on the ground. "Your kingdoms lie prostate. Even your lords have abandoned you, swearing their loyalty to one more deserving of it. From Lady Reaper Asha of Pyke, to Lord Robb of Winterfell and Lord Tywin of Casterly Rock…and I foresee that Prince Doran of Sunspear and Lord Mace of Highgarden will kneel soon. Submit…kneel before me, and swear allegiance to His Majesty, the Immortal Emperor of the Sith Empire."
Again, there was silence, and then with a groan, Robert forced himself to his feet. For a while, he stood with head down, breathing heavily as he forced his body – aching from the effects of Force Lightning – under control, and then raising his head, met Darth Achaia's eyes.
There was hatred there, as well as humiliation, rage and defiance. And yet, for all that, Darth Achaia could sense Robert knew he was going to die here and now, and did not care. He would die as he lived, and not lower himself to live in humiliation and degradation.
The Sith Lord could respect that.
But if so, then Force Lightning would not do. With a thought, a telekinetic pull drew his saberstaff to his hand, and a push from a finger extended one blade.
"Any last words?" Darth Achaia asked.
"Ours is the Fury." Robert whispered, and then faster than the eye could follow Darth Achaia swung, a form-perfect sai cha separating Robert's head from his body. It was an execution in full, and one that had the remaining lords falling to their knees even as Robert's body fell to the ground.
"Take his body." Darth Achaia ordered as he deactivated his saberstaff, and returned it to his waist. "He had his own strength, and died with honor. Have his body returned to his family, and buried according to their rites. He deserves that much."
"It will be done, my lord." General Granger said with a bow. "And the others?"
"Follow predetermined procedures."
"Yes, my lord."
A/N
So passes Robert the son of Steffon, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Up next, King's Landing.
Sai cha – this is the terminology (at least in Legends) used by both the Jedi and the Sith for a decapitation. For a canon example, there's Mace Windu killing Jango Fett at the Battle of Geonosis.