𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 93: 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝕭𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖘.
Smoke still rose from the melted gate of Casterly Rock, bent, burned, and warped. The roar of battle had ceased hours ago, but the smell of burned flesh, blood, and metal still lingered in the air.
The Black Cloaks, as Vlad had named his militia, moved among the bodies, clearing the dead, securing the battlements, and checking corridors where stragglers might still be hiding.
The Unsullied, who for the most part held command within Vlad's army, were carefully counting the survivors: more than six thousand Lannister men, almost all archers and soldiers who had held out to the end, though everything had been futile from the moment Vlad melted the gates.
On the side of the Black Fleet, not a single ship had been lost after the capture of Lannisport, and casualties were minimal in comparison. Even so, Vlad took the time to understand the cause of each loss, for he was not willing to let the arrogance of victory compromise his strategic judgment.
The great inner courtyard had become an improvised stage where knights, squires, and soldiers stood lined up at the center, fear reflected on their faces.
Some still held on to the resolve to die with their heads high and their honor intact, at least until the women were brought out from the fortress.
No matter how meticulous Tywin's planning had been, no one could predict the exact moment of the attack or evacuate families in time. Thus, within the Rock lived nobles, soldiers, and servants alongside wives, daughters, and children too young to wield a weapon when the castle fell.
Horror spread as they were gathered in the courtyard.
There was no pushing or blows, but the mere presence of armed men escorting women and children was enough to chill the blood of the survivors. Even the proudest nobles, accustomed to placing their name above any affection, could not hide their unease at seeing their entire bloodline under the gaze of the enemy.
Nearly all the great houses of the West were there: Kevan Lannister with the few of his lineage who had survived, Damon Marbrand, the Crakehalls, and many others.
Vlad smiled as he took in the scene. The Rock had spared him weeks of marches and unnecessary negotiations: all the important names were gathered in one place.
The Father of the Dragon then appeared on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. His Valyrian steel armor and red cloak moved with the wind, untouched, as if he had not commanded a siege only hours before. His blond hair fell loose to his shoulders and his golden eyes reflected an unnatural gleam. His flawless bearing and inhuman beauty were unsettling against the devastation surrounding him.
When he stopped and all eyes turned to him, he spoke. His deep, velvety voice would have been hypnotic under other circumstances, were it not for the fear for their lives and those of their families that drowned out all other thoughts.
—Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen —he greeted with perfect courtesy, inclining his head slightly—Decency compels me to introduce myself, although I suppose some of you have already guessed who I am.
The confusion was evident, especially among the peasant soldiers, who rarely knew who they were truly fighting.
—No one? —Vlad asked after a brief pause—Very well. I am Vlad Drakul, of Houses Drakul and Targaryen and, as of today, your ruler. Though I imagine you know me better by other names.
A murmur spread through the courtyard. His name was less known in Westeros than the titles attached to it, but one voice spoke it without hesitation. Kevan Lannister stepped forward, his expression rigid.
—Of course —he said with hatred, forcing the words as if they burned his tongue— The Impaler.
The muffled cry of several women was the only sound before restrained sobs turned into open weeping.
To them, thanks to the Faith of the Seven funded by the Lannisters, the Impaler was not a man, but a monster: the story told to children before sleep and one no one expected to see made real.
—In flesh and blood —Vlad replied with courtesy—But you may use "Your Majesty" when addressing me, as your etiquette dictates.
He paid no attention to the crying and addressed the men directly, for in Westeros decisions still rested with them.
Kevan Lannister seemed even less pleased.
If Vlad had been a savage, it would have been easy to despise him, but this man carried himself with impeccable manners and an insulting calm, and even so Kevan was not willing to yield.
—It does not matter how many of us you defeat, Impaler —he said, spitting the title—We will fight to the last man. We will not allow a monster to rule our lands, not even if you impale us, burn us, or kill us with your sorcery.
Vlad rolled his eyes, annoyed.
—Spare me the false morality, my lord —he replied with contempt—You are a Lannister; for you no price is too high and no atrocity lies beyond reach. Or has losing your brother softened you?
—Do not dare speak of my brother —Kevan spat, his jaw tense—He was no monster like you.
Vlad spread his arms and raised his voice so all could hear.
—Would you have me imitate your dear brother when he entered King's Landing? —he asked—Would you feel safer if I acted exactly as he did?
Kevan paled.
—Fortunately for all of you —Vlad continued, now without mockery—I would not stoop so low, not even before my enemies.
He turned toward the crowd, who watched him in silence.
—You are fortunate, people of the West —he proclaimed in his magnetic tone—I have not come to destroy your homes or kill your families. These lands, and all they contain, were taken from my wife through deceit and conspiracy, and as her husband I could not allow it.
He descended the steps at a slow pace until he stood at their level, and to his right Ser Barristan Selmy took position, his gaze fixed, though his presence was unnecessary.
—So I will make you a single offer, gentlemen —Vlad announced— Bend the knee, and swear loyalty to me and my family. I swear by my blood that you will keep your lands and titles and that you will prosper as never before.
No one answered.
Vlad let a second pass and allowed himself a faint smile.
—I see no one wishes to take the first step —he added—I understand, distrust is prudent, but you must choose. Swear loyalty to me…
He left the sentence hanging and calmly returned to the platform from which he had begun his speech, while all eyes followed his every step.
Then, a colossal shadow covered the sky. The ground trembled as it received the creature's weight, the stone vibrated under the impact, and the crash merged with a guttural roar that froze the blood of those present.
The dragon rose behind Vlad and slowly folded its wings. Its gaze moved over the men one by one.
No one dared even breathe.
Vlad turned back toward them, as if the beast at his back were of no importance, and fixed his eyes on those who still defied him.
—Or you may refuse —he concluded with a predator smile— And burn.
The silence held for a few seconds after Vlad's last words, until one knee struck the stone and, almost immediately, others followed. Vlad did not intervene or rush the moment; he simply watched as the men of the West lowered their heads one after another. He knew it was not loyalty but fear, yet if being the most hated man in Westeros made them do what was necessary to survive the long night, he did not care.
Greylon approached and quietly informed him that the throne room had already been secured.
Once known as Grey Worm, he had been the commander of the Unsullied and now exercised near-direct control over Vlad's army. He had earned his trust and respect, and for that reason Vlad had long insisted that he abandon that name: it was no longer necessary for him to remain bound to his slave name.
Vlad needed the best men for what was coming, and no matter how much weight that name carried, it was time for Greylon to move forward.
///
With the surrender complete, control of Casterly Rock was consolidated quickly. Vlad walked through the corridors accompanied by Greylon and Lena, followed by a small group of Western nobles who kept their distance.
He had expected something different. Even accounting for victory, he had anticipated attempts to buy time, hide resources, or prepare a delayed response. For a moment he considered whether he had overestimated the lords of the West, though perhaps it was the three dragons circling above the Rock that had eliminated any possibility of resistance before it could even be considered.
When he entered the throne room, his attention settled on the former Lannister seat, raised upon the dais, worked in gilded metal and heavy with ostentatious detail, gold and jewels. He studied it for a moment before ascending the steps.
—Remove it —he said at last without raising his voice.
The men hesitated for a second before beginning to dismantle it.
—And bring two new thrones —he added while his gaze moved across the space— Of stone, simple.
He stopped at the center of the dais, as if measuring the arrangement.
—And make sure they are well cushioned —he remarked with a hint of irony.
Lena allowed herself a faint smile, while Greylon remained motionless at his side. Vlad rested a hand on the golden backrest before it was taken away.
—I never understood the need to make uncomfortable a seat you are supposed to spend much of your life on —he said quietly, genuinely puzzled by yet another of the decisions the Targaryens had made throughout their rule.
The reorganization of the hall was swift, and by the time the sun began to set, the symbols of House Lannister had vanished from the dais.
Several days later, Vlad gathered the few men he considered necessary to consolidate his control over the West. It was not a formal council, but it was enough to establish the first decisions without wasting time.
Greylon stood at his right with the same rigid posture, while Lena occupied the opposite side, watching the room attentively. Marwyn remained somewhat apart, distracted by the architecture and writing from time to time on a parchment resting on the table. Facing them, Kevan Lannister waited.
He stopped a few steps away before speaking.
—You sent for me… —he said, and after a brief pause added in a more rigid tone— Your Majesty.
Vlad did not seem affected and, instead of answering immediately, gestured lightly toward the table set up provisionally in the room.
—Sit, ser —he said in his usual deep tone.
Kevan obeyed without protest and took a seat opposite him, keeping his back straight and his gaze fixed.
—You know these lands better than anyone —Vlad said as he placed a hand on the table— You understand the politics of each lord and the infrastructure required to govern the West.
He paused briefly before continuing.
—I plan to introduce significant changes —he continued without looking away— but to do so without creating instability I need someone capable of administering these lands and applying those changes without turning them into a greater problem.
Kevan frowned slightly, processing the proposal.
—Do you intend to use me against the other lords of the West? —he asked, and although his tone remained controlled, the tension showed in his jaw.
Vlad shook his head lightly.
—Use is a strong word —he replied calmly—I have no intention of forcing betrayals or encouraging conspiracies over plots of land or pieces of gold.
He slid his fingers over the surface of the table before continuing.
—I have more resources than I will need for decades, and if more were ever required, the Iron Bank would be willing to provide them within weeks —he added, lifting his gaze slightly— Bleeding the West gains me nothing.
The silence held for a moment before he continued, his tone colder.
—The only thing I wish to avoid is unnecessary trouble —he said without looking away—I do not need conspiracies or rebellions, nor to be forced into sending a message by impaling several hundred nobles so the rest understand their place.
Kevan felt a chill, but Vlad let the idea settle before continuing, his expression unchanged.
—That would only make the smallfolk see me as a tyrant for reasons that could have been avoided —he added calmly— Their opinion does not dictate my decisions, but I have no interest in worsening it without cause.
Kevan held his gaze for a few seconds, as if searching for any trace of mockery or deceit. Finally, much to his own displeasure, he inclined his head.
—I understand —he said quietly—I will do whatever is necessary.
It was not loyalty, but Vlad knew Kevan was loyal only to his people and to the nobles of the West, and for now that was enough to avoid more drastic measures.
Vlad gave a slight nod and changed the subject without transition.
—Princess Myrcella will arrive in just over a week —he said, straightening slightly— She will meet with Daenerys and travel under her protection to the West.
Kevan did not react immediately, but concern showed on his face.
—As for the dragons —Vlad continued— they will not remain within the fortress. They will settle in the nearby hills and will not interfere with the villagers or the fields.
He paused for a moment before adding, with a barely perceptible edge in his voice:
—In the same way, I expect no one to interfere with them.
Kevan nodded again, this time without visible tension.
—I will see to it —he replied firmly.
—You may go —Vlad concluded.
Kevan rose without haste and, after a brief bow, left the hall with a different attitude from the one he had shown upon entering.
The silence lasted a moment before Vlad turned his attention back to the rest of the table. Greylon stood at his right, unmoving, occupying the place of Ser Barristan Selmy, who had been sent on a mission beyond Casterly Rock, while Marwyn rested a hand on the parchments spread across the table and wrote calmly, and Lena waited, watching for the moment to speak.
—What information do we have from King's Landing? —Vlad asked as he placed his fingers on the table.
Lena rose and stepped forward before answering, keeping her gaze fixed on him.
—Cersei has not wasted any time —she said as she stopped before the table— She has taken advantage of her son being occupied with more immediate matters and has begun consolidating her power through the Faith.
Marwyn looked up, attentive. As a former maester, he knew well the politics behind the Faith of the Seven and the real influence it held over Westeros.
—Lars has risen as the new leader of the Sparrows —Lena continued— Cersei believes she can control him, so she has no qualms about making concessions such as allowing the restoration of the Faith Militant.
Greylon frowned slightly before speaking.
—That is more than imprudent —he said as he crossed his arms— Giving weapons to any faith is giving power to an institution that answers to no lord and considers itself above any worldly authority.
Marwyn nodded faintly, placing both hands on the table.
—More than that —he added, tilting his head slightly— Allowing the Faith of the Seven to possess an armed force is dangerous for the entire system of Westeros. Left unchecked, it could fracture the established order and displace the nobility from power.
Vlad did not interrupt them as they spoke.
—It was predictable —he said, leaning lightly on the table— Cersei Lannister acts as if she had her father's mind between her shoulders, but she is far from as intelligent as Tywin.
His gaze remained fixed for a moment before he continued.
—The Faith Militant is a problem, but also a tool —he added— The fact that Lars is at its head allows us to track their movements and anticipate them, while also giving us a direct path to dismantle the Faith's influence in Westeros far more quickly than we otherwise could.
He slid his fingers lightly over the table.
—If the Faith takes the first step toward conflict —he continued without changing his tone— we will be able to respond from a stronger position without needing to justify it to anyone.
Lena nodded and, after a brief silence, took out a small vial and set it on the table.
—Edward sent this from his expedition in the far north —she said as she pushed it forward.
Vlad took the container between his fingers and raised it slightly to examine it in the light.
—Warg blood —he said in a neutral tone— It could not have been easy to obtain.
He turned the vial with a slight movement, evaluating it in silence. Beyond the curiosity such an ability might provoke, the applications were evident: espionage, communication, control over other creatures, and even a greater connection with his own dragons.
He set the vial carefully back on the table before straightening slightly.
—That will be all, gentlemen —he said calmly— You may withdraw.
Vlad paused for a moment, resting his hands on the table. He breathed in slowly, as if organizing his thoughts. That routine of reports, decisions, and disputes bored him, so he allowed himself a few seconds of silence before continuing.
For now, he would rule like this: with capable advisors, and one day at a time.
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First of all, thank you once again for being here for another week. I truly appreciate that you keep following the story.
I also want to apologize for the slight delay. I had the chapter written a while ago, but it seemed too short (1500 characters) considering the usual week-long wait between updates. So, I decided to add some new ideas that came to me over time and that fit well at this point in the story. It's not filler, or at least I hope it doesn't seem like it, but I think it adds more life to the chapter.
Also, this chapter is a mix between my old writing style and the new one. As I mentioned before, I've been narrating the ideas directly from my head and then, at home, organizing and refining them into proper prose. So if you notice differences between sections, feel free to point them out. And if any part sounds robotic or unnatural, I'd really appreciate the feedback so I can fix it.
As for the chapter itself, we are now in Casterly Rock. We went into detail about Vlad's rule, he has plans for Westeros, and they are important. It's time for her to start organizing her forces into something more than just an overwhelming war campaign.
As for leaving Kevan Lannister and the rest of Tywin's lineage alive, I honestly didn't see the need to eliminate them. Tywin was the only truly dangerous member of that family, as shown by the Rains of Castamere. Without him, the Lannisters would have fallen long ago. Keeping the West stable is simply Vlad's way of avoiding unnecessary problems.
I know some of you might see this as a passive decision or even a mistake, but I'll repeat it: Vlad does not want to rule. He does not want to govern. To him, it's tedious, boring, and completely exhausting to deal with people who constantly prioritize short-term interests over their own survival. This might be somewhat influenced by my own views on politics in general, but I'll leave it at that.
On another note, the next few chapters (probably three or four) will be a bit calmer, focusing on catching up with the remaining canon characters and their current situations. But don't worry, action is just around the corner, literally. The next step in the plan is moving toward the next major setting, so you won't have to wait long for more direct and vivid action.
I hope you enjoy the chapter, and as always, I'll be happy to read any feedback you want to share.
Thank you again for being here another week, and enjoy the chapter.