Pre-Chapter Author's Note:

Dude… WHAT THE FUCK! How do I have 540 followers!? I fucking love you guys. I swear its crazy how much support I've been getting here. Its crazy. I'm a 20 year old dude who's never written ANYTHING in my life. I just read a lot. Swear I started writing this cuz my pops was like "Dude you read so much you should just start writing your own shit" and I did. Never imagined it would be this much fun. Already have a couple more story ideas (ASOIAF and other fandoms), though those will be in the backburner for a while so I can focus on this. Anyways, fuck this, I'll wrap it up so you can get to the chapter. If you read this, thank! If not, well then thanks too!

Tywin I:

I felt it. Deep in my bones I felt it. A terrible sound, one of blood and death and horror and Ice. My ears were ringing and I could hear a strange sound, like the sound of ice cracking. Suddenly I was nauseous and I couldn't see straight. I retched, and I could feel the food I had ate today leave my stomach and drop on the floor. I felt a terrible, horrific cold, one which couldn't have happened at this time of the year, much less in Riverrun. I looked around, worried about what had happened to me just before the battle.

"LORD MARBRAND! COMMAND THE MEN TO HOLD!"

"URRRGGGGGGHHHH"

"Seven Hells!"

I thought. He was unresponsive as well. I looked around and sure enough the rest of my lords were in a similar state. My ears started pounding, and I could faintly hear the Northmen's charge against our walls.

"MEN! RALLY AND DEFEND THESE WALLS! THESE SAVAGES WILL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU AND SACRIFICE YOU TO THEIR TREE GODS SHOULD YOU FALL OR BE CAPTURED! DO NOT LET THEM PREVAIL!"

I could see some of my men had been motivated by my rallying call, but most men on the walls were still recovering from the sudden bout of vertigo. I looked around me once more, and finally some of my commanders had managed to regain their senses.

"RUN YOU FOOLS! TO YOUR MEN. DO NOT LET THE NORTHMEN BREACH OUR WALLS!"

That had my lords scrambling to their men, fearing what I'd do should they stay still. By the time the soldiers manning the walls had regained their senses I saw the Northmen were already more than halfway across the dried up moats. They carried their ladders on their backs, unbothered since my soldiers still had not begun shooting their arrows. I was apoplectic with rage. I heard Adam Marbrand shout out orders.

"FUCKING FIRE FOR SEVEN'S SAKE!"

And at that we finally started firing. Unfortunately, it was too late, the Northmen were already almost there. We managed to kill a couple of them but they finally managed to latch on the ladders to our walls. I saw them climb to the top of the ladders, and from the ground they took the shields off their backs and got together, making a shield wall to defend themselves while others scaled the ladders. Arrows rained down on top of them, piercing their shields and dropping them one by one. On the other side of the river I saw the Northmen carrying even more ladders. I ordered my men to keep firing, and they did, managing to slow them down. I watched as the Northmen struggled for about three hours before more ladders finally latched onto the castle walls.

"SER GREGOR, GO AND DEFEND THE MAIN ENTRANCE!"

He nodded at me and ran out, followed by his men. I was confident that he would be able to repel the enemy. I felt a chill pass through my body, which I attributed to battle nerves, as even I was not immune to them, especially against a foe such as this one.

I saw the left walls had been latched onto by ladders as well. I looked to my brother, who had an eager grin on his face, the idiot.

"TYLAND! REPEL THESE SAVAGES!"

With that he ran forwards to rally the men on the left, eager to bloody his blade. I could hear screaming all around me, battle cries and shouts of agony rampant throughout the castle walls. Reports indicated that the Northmen had only been able to scale the walls, but we still held strong, killing all who managed to scale them. I glanced beyond the walls, and I saw something which confounded me. The northern army was split in half in each of the three camps outside. About half on each side were attacking, while it looked like the other half was resting in place for no apparent reason.

Did they think we would have reinforcements? I would certainly not disavow them from that line of thinking, the less men who attacked the walls at a time the better it was for us. Still, I was curious about the reasoning behind this move.

"LORD TYWIN, THE RIGHT WALLS HAVE BEEN LATCHED ONTO BY LADDERS!"

I thought for a moment. This meant that all sides of Riverrun had been scaled by the Northmen. For now our only hope was to hold the walls. If we held until the sun went down we would be able to rest for a couple of hours at the very least and start anew tomorrow. I knew my men would need the rest, they were already starved, and the meager rations we could provide them would not do. We had already resorted to killing our steeds for meat, something which filled me with both shame and anger.

The fact that I had been forced into doing such a thing was one of the greatest shames I had ever gone through, similar to what the blasted Castameres or Tarbecks had done. Never had I been placed in such a position, but I would endure.

I sent my goodbrother, Ser Stafford Lannister, to the right walls, confident in his ability to defend. We were losing men, many men, but we were bleeding them even worse. We killed two for every one of us slain, making our defense extremely effective. I received reports that the main gate walls had routed the attackers, the Mountain being successful. Similarly, Ser Stafford had been successful as well, but my brother Tyland had been reported to lose more men than necessary. Nevertheless, after hours of combat I heard a warhorn in the distance, a regular one this time thank the Seven, sounding the Northmen retreat, ending combat for the first day.

The enemy retreated back, leaving the bridges floating in the water. I sighed, relaxing myself now that the first day of battle was over. Now would be another battle, feeding my men and keeping them motivated enough to keep fighting on an empty stomach. My commanders reported to me quickly.

"Ser Gregor, what were your losses?"

He stepped forward, standing tall and covered in blood. "I lost about 2,000 of the 13,000 in the main entrance, although we will not know for sure until the count is done. We killed at least two for every one of us."

I nodded, pleased with the numbers. I looked towards Ser Stafford expectantly, and he quickly noticed and stepped forward.

"My Lord, 1,000 of the 13,000 posted on the walls fell against the Northmen. We bled them heavily however. The right walls were the last to be latched onto by the Northerners, and so I estimate about 3,000 casualties on their side."

"Good work Ser Stafford. Ser Tyland, your losses."

He looked embarrassed, but spoke up.

"My Lord, I lost 4,000 of the 13,000 men in the left walls. We bled them for about 5,000 men."

I looked at him in silence. Finally, I deigned it time to respond.

"You mean to tell me that you lost about the same amount of men as them while fighting from a highly fortified position?"

He clenched his fists, angry at the reprimand and mocking tone, but wisely stayed quiet. I saw Ser Gregor smirking to the side, clearly enjoying my brother's shame, while Ser Stafford just looked ahead stonefaced.

"We have lost 6,000 out of 40,000 men. Meanwhile, we can estimate about 12,000 Northmen fell by our baldes. Aside from the excess losses of the left walls, we won this day's exchange. Now, we must focus on-"

I stopped talking. A warhorn was blown once more, and my eyes widened. I ran to the window of the window of the solar and there they were. Fucking savages. Another wave was attacking, most likely the one who had been resting while half of the Northeners attacked. I looked around frantically until I focused on my commanders. They were all worried, I could see it, even the mighty Ser Gregor.

"Get. To. Your. POSITIONS!"

At that they each ran towards the walls, intent on commanding the men. I sat down for a moment and gobbled down a glass of wine. I was shivering, I realized, and I felt cold. I was tired, bloody tired, and it looked as if I would be getting no rest tonight as well. I went ahead to the main walls to inspect how our defenses were doing and it was bad. I could see my men were tired, fatigued from a lack of sleep and food. I needed something to rally them, lest they drop their weapons and surrender me to the Starks. I coughed, clearing my lungs and let out a shout.

"LISTEN TO ME NOW MEN! I AM TYWIN LANNISTER, COMMANDER OF THIS ARMY! LISTEN TO ME WELL, ANY MAN WHO BRINGS ME THE HEAD OF A NORTHERN LORD WILL RECEIVE A KNIGHTHOOD AND GUARANTEED SERVICE TO MY HOUSE! THE REST OF YOU WHO SURVIVE WILL ALL RECEIVE 3 GOLDEN DRAGONS AND ANY SPOILS YOU GAIN FROM YOUR KILLS! FIGHT BRAVELY, FOR A LANNISTER ALWAYS PAYS HIS DEBTS!"

There it was. I could see it, the fire I had lit in my men's hearts. 3 Gold Dragons was a smallfolk's salary for a year, and I was offering that and loot to those who fought hard enough to survive, never mind the opportunity of a knighthood in service to House Lannister. Any peasant would kill for the opportunity, and kill they did. The greed of men was something intrinsic in everyone, even the noblest of men had them. I was the richest man in Westeros, and gold was what ruled the world. Gold is where House Lannister derived its power, gold is where the Iron Bank derived its power and Gold is where the merchant princes or the Old Bloods in the Free Cities derived its power. With my offers of rewards, I had guaranteed that my soldiers would fight tooth and nail for their rewards or die fighting.

I saw the Northmen's beasts, the Giants, nock their arrows in the distance and I paled. By pure luck I managed to drop to the floor. Most of the men surrounding me weren't so lucky. Giant arrows, the length and width of a man, riddled the walls right behind me, impaling men to the walls, making a horrific sight. As I looked around, still crouched, I noticed that the arrows had only been fired to my general vicinity, and while the men off to the sides were certainly scared, they had not been targeted.

"How had they known where I was?" I thought. I then saw a flock of birds, eagles and owls more specifically, flying on top of me. "Wargs." I thought. I had read of them, yes, but reading accounts more than two hundred years old from the First Northern War could have never prepared me for this. They really could control beasts, and that made them the perfect scouts. I quickly gathered a group of archers and ordered them to shoot any birds they see. They looked at me as if I was mad, giving me a mad desire to kill them where they stood, but I swallowed my pride. I needed, them. They would pay later, should they live. I would pay my debt. In the distance I saw Giant archers take position again, this time in masse. They fired their huge arrows, and once again I saw men skewered by them, hanging in the air while begging for their lives. Northeners finally started climbing ladders again, managing to scale the walls and now the fight was once again upon us. I screamed orders to my men from afar and I could see Ser Gregor fighting to drive out the enemy. I had no idea how much time had passed, but it was already night, so I estimated at least a couple of hours. The fighting continued like that, killing and killing countless men, death worming its way to everyone. I saw a squire rush towards me, looking very distressed, scared to tell me what he had been sent to say.

"Speak squire!"

"Lord Tywin, your brother…. he has fallen to the Northeners. Lord Lefford has assumed command of the forces in his death."

Dead. My brother, MY BROTHER WAS DEAD.

"HOW?"

He shivered, refusing to look up at me. Finally he gathered the courage to speak and said:

"A giant arrow My Lord. Once the beasts fired upon us he was hit in his stomach."

A slow death then. Damm the Seven Hells and damm the Northmen.

"Tell Lord Lefford I formally appoint him as commander of the left walls."

He nodded at sprinted off, eager to get away from me. I retreated back to the solar, going over plans to see what I could do to win. I must have spent a at least a few hours there, going over what I could do to either win or escape should it need to happen. From there I gave my orders, messengers coming back and forth with updates on what was happening outside. By the time the sun had come up the fighting had mainly stopped, aside from a few reported skirmishes on the battlements. I sent word to the logistics men to quickly go and organize the the rations, so I could quickly feed everyone. Finally I heard the long awaited noise.

"HHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM"

The horn had been sounded, and now the battle was over. I saw no more men attacking and what few remained retreated back to the camp. I walked outside, fatigue all over me. The men were even worse. Injuries on all sides, many could barely even stand. I could hear the grumbling of their stomachs, pleading them for food. I kept walking the battlements, overlooking the bodies that littered it, both northern and southern. Finally I came to a halt. A huge arrow still piercing the wall, skewering a body and keeping it hanging. It was my brother, his face contorted in a horrific expression. I could see blood had stopped leaking, the ground already full of it.

"Get his body off of there and prepare it for transporting."

He would be buried in Casterly Rock, a true Lannister, not here in this filthy castle.

"HHHHHMMMMMMMMMMM"

I snapped my head back and sure enough it was another northern charge. Suddenly it all made sense.

"Ahhhh, so that is what they did. They must have split their army in half, one to attack in the morning while the other half rested, and then an exchange where one attacked in the night while the other rested. Damm them, DAMM THEM."

This strategy allowed them to attack without pause, simply exchanging one tired force with another. Freshly rested troops fighting against sleep deprived and starved troops, all the while holding a numerical advantage. It was easy to see what the result would be. Even so I would keep fighting. I knew I would lose, I was no idiot, and no matter how bitter it tasted I accepted it. But if I was to die, then I would die gloriously, leaving no shame on House Lannister.

I saw the Giants in service of House Stark start marching towards the main gate, carrying a bridge to get over the moat. They were fully armored, and most arrows bounced off them. They let down the bridge and six of them carried a battering ram over it. They quickly got there and hit.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Three blows was all it took. On the fourth one the gates gave out. I heard a huge war cry in a language I did not understand and then they started entering. I saw the Stark banner going in, and I felt a deep rage. I ran to the entrance, flanked by my guards and saw soldiers storming towards me.

I took out my sword and started swinging. A swipe here, a duck there, stab forward. It was automatic. It was certainly not the first battle I had taken part it, and I would not go out a coward if this should be my last. I killed a man by skewering him with my sword, another had his throat slit. I felt my blood pump, and close enough I saw him. That blasted Northern King. He stood tall, covered in blood and holding a blue sword. I focused on it and I shivered even more than I already was.

"STARK! YOU WANTED A DUEL DID YOU NOT? DUEL ME NOW!"

He swiped his visor up and looked at me amused. Then, he looked back at his guards. I heard him speak.

"Cregan, assure we are not disturbed."

At that he walked forward, sliding his sword on the ground. The field parted, revealing the fact that my men had already most likely surrendered, and thus I found myself surrounded by Northmen. Behind me I heard the Mountain cut his way through Northmen in search of their King. I heard him speak again and then he swiped his visor back down.

"Lord Tywin, please pardon the delay, but I wish to duel your dog first. Men! Let him pass!"

I looked on incredulously. Did he actually wish to duel the deadliest man in Westeros? Was I actually that lucky? The Mountain roared and marched forward, intent on ending this fool's life.

He reached him and swung a downwards stroke. The King backstepped to his left, dodging the blow. He came up with an upwards slash and the Mountain hastily stepped back, dodging it. Suddenly he gasped and held his chest. A wound, dark in color was visible in his chest, a clean slice visible in his breatplate. There was no blood, it looked as if had been months old, yet Ser Gregor felt the pain. I looked towards the Northern King, and sure enough, his sword was matted with blood, dried blood it looked like.

"AAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Ser Gregor screamed and swung from right to left, aiming to sever him in two. Seeing no chance to dodge, the King placed his blade in a blocking position, hoping to weather the blow. I smiled, this would be his death.

"CRACK!"

The sword shattered. My eyes widened, my heard stopped. I could not believe it. He did nothing more than hold his sword out and Ser Gregor's sword had shattered into pieces. My champion was frozen in shock, and never had the time to recover. The King spun around and delivered a slash which split open his stomach, the sword ignoring common sense and slicing through armor like water. I saw blood pool around the floor, yet it stopped too quickly for such a large wound. Ser Gregor was on his knees now, frantically touching his wound as if that would somehow heal it.

The King walked towards him slowly, almost as if he was stocking him like a predator. As he did so he took off his helmet, handing it to who'm appeared to be the captain of his guards. A white beast came out of the crowd, a direwolf. White as snow with chilling red eyes, it snarled at the downed form of Ser Gregor. The King spoke quietly, yet heard by all.

"Ghost, finish him."

And finish him he did. The beast leaped right on top of him, sending him to his back. Then it began feasting, biting at the wound caused by the sword and slowly eating all of Ser Gregor's entrails. Ser Gregor tried to stop the best by punching it, but with how weakened he was due to his injuries, well there was nothing he could really do. All the while this happened nothing could be heard. Everyone was silent except for my soldier's screams of agony. Eventually the screaming stopped. The wolf calmly took his head out of the knights stomach and looked up.

It was horrifying. The wolf took slow strides towards his master, who gave him a slight pat on the head.

"Good job Ghost."

The Winter King looked at me then, one hand still on his wolf, the other holding his magical sword. He smiled, a horrible, terrible smile, one which only promised death and suffering. I felt chills, an old, deep cold run through my body. I couldn't help it, I started shivering. My teeth chattered, my hairs stood, and my knees wobbled.

"Lord Tywin... do you still wish to duel?"

I dropped to my knees, sword falling out of my hand. I couldn't win, there was no chance.

"Seize him."

I was shackled and pushed out, the soldiers taking me to the dungeons. I had lost. The Lion of Lannister had lost.

Author's Note:

So... what did you guys think? I wanted to showcase how magic and Giants could make a difference, and I hoped you like how I wrote out the battle and the strategy used. Did you guys like how I wrote Tywin's POV? Something particular stick out? If you have any suggestions, please write them! I'm a beginner writer so I know there's things I could change for the better, so I appreciate every review, positive or negative. Thank you for reading and please leave a review if you can! Have a nice day!