Chapter 452 - The Old Lion’s Hatred.

Chapter 452: Chapter 452 - The Old Lion’s Hatred.

[Chapter Size: 3500 Words.]

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Third Person POV

The Westerlands, 300 AC.

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Jon did not attack Golden Tooth as he had said. The priorities ended up being the other regions.

He was not so merciful toward Marbrand. There was no lady there, and the lord and his heir were in King’s Landing. Jon simply ordered everyone to leave the castle and reduced it to ruins.

He then entered House Myatt’s lands, doing exactly the same thing. Finally, he reached House Lorch’s lands.

Jon took pleasure in watching the explosions turn the entire castle into a crumbling stone toy collapsing in on itself. Its towers were completely destroyed, and another explosion struck the fortress immediately afterward.

He left an entire family in tears. But he did not care.

Lord Lorch might even have been killed by Oberyn Martell when he saved Rhaenys, but that changed nothing when the man had intended to murder his sister, his beloved Rhaenys... Jon had seen through the Green Sight Tywin’s order to execute her.

He had also seen the moment when Lorch advanced toward the little girl’s room with a knife, only to be stopped by Oberyn, who arrived just a little too late to save his sister and Aegon, but managed to take Rhaenys away to Dorne after burning the room with the body of another child who had died that night... Using it to cover up Rhaenys’s survival, since only bones were found.

Perhaps he would not have succeeded. But the mere thought that Rhaenys might have suffered the same fate as her younger brother was enough to fill him with fury.

At sea, meanwhile, the fleet was also sailing back south. There was no longer any reason to continue heading north.

At the same time, a group of knights crossing the northern edge of the Riverlands had already entered the Westerlands.

Lancelot, Barristan Selmy, Jin Sakai, and the other men could already see the columns of smoke in the distance left behind by Jon and the others over the past few days, and whenever they passed by castles, they found nothing but destruction.

They could only gaze silently at all the devastation he had caused.

Continuing south once more, they found the army arriving at Sarsfield.

"My king!"

The men quickly approached to return to their posts.

"You’ve returned," Jon said, pleased to see that they had managed to ride from the Riverlands all the way there over the past few weeks.

Meanwhile, the men who had fought the Freys at Seagard had already returned to the ships, rejoining the fleet before everyone sailed south once again.

The damage inflicted upon the Westerlands was devastating. Several castles had been completely destroyed with ease.

"I have to admit... We were all surprised..." Lancelot commented.

Seeing that Jon remained silent, he continued.

"So this is how you think Tywin is going to pay?" Lancel asked.

The king was not massacring the population. He was destroying the Westerlands materially. Of course, that would bring enormous consequences in the future.

It would take an immense amount of money to rebuild castles, restore historic strongholds, and recover all the lost prestige.

Every kind of problem would fall upon the Westerlands.

"Either way, the Westerlands owe me a debt," Jon replied.

Barristan Selmy, who was more familiar with Westeros, simply nodded as they resumed their march alongside the others and the army.

By this point, it had become common to encounter messengers on horseback begging for mercy before they reached each territory. The entire Westerlands was terrified by what the Arcticans were doing.

They had never experienced anything like it. Not from men who had come to conquer in a way no one had ever seen before, destroying entire castles and weakening the Westerlands in a way that was almost beyond repair. The next generations might not even be able to begin solving that problem.

Jon also had to deal with several groups of bandits that had begun to form. Banditry was inevitable, after all. Men who managed to escape the war would inevitably turn to it in search of an easier life.

He sent troops led by about three dozen knights to eliminate most of the bandit camps that were springing up. They were made up of soldiers from the castles that had already been destroyed.

Every one of them was massacred without mercy. The smallfolk, however, were left untouched by Jon.

The army continued through villages, small towns, and hamlets. It was obvious that everyone watched them in fear, but the Arcticans made no move to plunder them.

Jon’s focus was on the nobles and their wealth. The coastal villages had already been attacked by the Ironborn since the beginning of Balon’s campaign, but the inland regions remained almost completely untouched.

In any case, the Arcticans did nothing except pass through those lands, completely ignoring the farms and their inhabitants.

All they wanted were the castles. They would turn the daughters, children, fiancées, and wives of the lords summoned by Tywin, who were still in King’s Landing or marching through the Westerlands, into people as poor as any peasant.

In any case, two weeks had passed since they had entered the Westerlands.

The destruction continued.

Meanwhile, the fleet gathered once again, forming a force of more than fifteen thousand men, which quickly began marching south.

Their next objective was to enter the Reach and, finally, confront Kevan Lannister’s army, which was also drawing near.

Jon kept his eyes on them the entire time as well. He studied their weaknesses and the best strategy to defeat them, even if he had to face an enemy with a two-to-one numerical advantage.

Naturally, his men were far better armed and prepared than the enemy army. Besides, Jon would not waste his soldiers so easily.

He already had tactics to deal with them.

One week earlier, in King’s Landing...

Tywin was still frustrated by the lack of news from key locations. Not even his brother had managed to send another raven reporting on the campaign and the march back to the west.

But on this particular day, a letter arrived.

Qyburn knocked on the door, entered, and approached carrying a scroll.

The seal upon it was that of Casterly Rock.

Tywin felt his heart tighten.

Outwardly, he maintained his cold expression, but he could not hide the furrows that formed across his brow.

"Let me see that." He took the letter and quickly opened it.

It had been a long time since he had received any news from Casterly Rock. He wondered why and what had happened.

How had that letter reached him after so much silence...?

Tywin knew his sister would never stop sending information, especially when none of her previous letters had received a reply.

It was obvious that something was wrong, that damned sorcerer... And that letter had not reached his hands by chance...

That meant the thoughts that had haunted him for weeks might truly be becoming reality.

’Could it be... Casterly Rock couldn’t have fallen... Could it?’ The thought crossed his mind as a rare look of concern appeared on his face.

But he pushed it aside to see what was written in the letter. Then he recognized Genna’s handwriting.

It was shaky, scribbled in several places. That meant only one thing. She had been forced to write it.

So... Casterly Rock had fallen. He did not even need to read the contents before closing his eyes for a brief moment.

It was not enough that they had forced Joy Hill away and kidnapped her. Now, in a way, they had also conquered Casterly Rock.

It seemed Kevan would arrive far too late. Then he began reading the contents.

If he had been worried before, he merely looked at Qyburn. "Leave." That was all he said.

The man simply nodded. He had a habit of asking no questions and quickly left the room.

The old lion placed the letter on the table and continued staring at it, utterly troubled.

Casterly Rock... No. He was incapable of believing it.

Genna had been forced. They would not do something like this... Would they?

In the letter, Genna explained that the Arcticans had attacked with long-range artillery. Even from the sea, they had managed to strike the castle, perched more than six hundred meters above the water, and had devastated the entire fortress after evacuating everyone.

Genna also made it clear that their home simply no longer existed.

"How... How is this even possible?" The old lion slammed his fist against the table.

He grabbed his empty goblet, which he had not even been using at the time, and hurled it against the wall. The gold dented slightly from the force of the impact.

"AHHH!!" The next instant, he let out a cry of pure frustration. To make matters worse, the door opened at that very moment.

The one who entered was his foolish grandson. King Joffrey looked at him in surprise, though he still wore his usual pompous expression.

"Is something wrong, Grandfather? Everyone outside became worried when they heard you shout," he said.

As he spoke, his eyes fell upon the letter. He wondered what could have made his grandfather lose control like that.

It certainly was not something trivial. Even Joffrey felt a flicker of concern.

But above all, he wanted to know immediately what had happened as he stared at the old lion with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"It’s them, isn’t it?" An intense fury flared in Joffrey’s eyes. "Those bastards... I swear I’ll destroy them!" He had barely finished speaking.

He did not even notice his grandfather approaching before he felt a powerful slap strike his face. The sound echoed through the chamber. Joffrey raised a hand to his cheek, completely stunned, feeling his skin burn. His surprise quickly gave way to anger.

"What do you think you’re..." He did not even get to finish.

Another slap struck his face.

"Be quiet." Tywin’s cold tone made Joffrey freeze.

"Leave. Now." The old lion’s voice was filled with fury.

Joffrey stared at him with fear and surprise. "You can’t strike the king," he said in a threatening tone.

But in the very next instant... A third slap echoed through the hall.

"You have no power here. Remember that, you brat. Now leave me alone." The words were spoken so loudly that the door opened once again.

A member of the Kingsguard entered immediately. Tywin’s cold eyes turned toward the man.

He, too, harbored a certain hatred for the Arcticans. After all, he had lost an eye, several teeth, and had suffered an arm injury so severe during the Reach campaign that he was never the same again.

He had been crippled by the Arcticans.

But not nearly as much as Tywin. The old lion had lost far more.

Not physically. The damage lay elsewhere.

Far deeper than he would ever admit.

Losing Casterly Rock was devastating.

He merely gestured for them to take Joffrey away. The boy left, casting one last look of indignation, mixed with the humiliation of having been struck.

Tywin did not care, not even about any retaliation from the king.

He picked up the dented goblet, placed it back on the table, and resumed drinking. His mind was in chaos.

He could think of nothing else. Yet something consumed him even more than his own anger.

Losing Casterly Rock alone was devastating enough to make him feel as though he had lost everything he had achieved throughout his life. He wanted to be remembered as the greatest Lannister who had ever lived.

As the man who had raised his House to heights never before reached in all of history. There had been many capable Lannisters.

His father had been a fool. Some of his ancestors had been as well. But others had been great men. Even so, Tywin had always believed he would surpass them all.

It was he who had brought his family to the height of power. It was he who had helped bring down the Targaryens.

He had always taken pride in that. But the moment Casterly Rock ceased to exist...

The moment his ancestral seat was destroyed... Everything changed.

Now he would be remembered as the Lannister who lost his home. The man who lost the greatest symbol of his House.

His seat simply no longer existed. Casterly Rock had withstood countless wars throughout history.

Even so, it had been destroyed. And that blow was devastating, even for Tywin Lannister.

Then a great bird arrived. It seemed to be carrying a small box, large enough to hold a helmet.

Tywin was startled when the bird appeared at the window, entered the chamber, and dropped the box in the middle of the room before immediately flying away.

There was a letter attached to the box. He cautiously approached and opened it.

As soon as he lifted the lid, he saw the head of a man who had died several days earlier. His eyes widened in recognition.

His hands trembled as he dropped the box, causing the head to fall to the floor and roll until it came to a stop near his feet.

Only then was he able to get a better look at the face. His blood ran cold once again.

"No... No... He couldn’t have taken this from me." The old lion refused to believe it.

It seemed even worse than losing Casterly Rock.

"How... How dare he? He couldn’t have taken this from me!" If anyone had looked at it, they would have easily realized that the maester had suffered a horrific death.

The veins on his face were still purple, and his expression remained twisted with the pain and agony he had endured before dying.

"He couldn’t have done this..." Tywin hated Jon Arctic more than he had ever hated Aerys.

He wanted the chance to kill him.

To kill his entire family.

His entire bloodline.

He wanted to see him suffer.

He had already taken his home. Now he had also taken away his chance to avenge Joanna’s death.

How could he not hate Jon Arctic?

Someone knocked on the door at that moment.

"Father... Is everything all right? Did something happen?"

Cersei’s voice came from the other side. She sounded confused, but also concerned. She had probably already heard what had happened in the Tower of the Hand, especially after Joffrey appeared furious for having been struck by his own grandfather, his face red with rage.

When Tywin did not answer, Cersei entered the chamber, and she was not alone.

Strangely, Tyrion came in right behind her. Tywin did not even look at either of them.

He continued staring at the head lying on the floor, consumed by rage. He had not even read Jon Arctic’s letter yet... His children also looked at it in complete shock.

So that was why Tywin was trembling.

"Is that...?" They immediately recognized the swollen face.

"That bastard... He killed him. He didn’t let me have my revenge." Tywin repeated the words almost like a man on the verge of madness.

"He killed him. He killed her murderer."

Cersei remained silent, her eyes cold. Tyrion merely swallowed hard.

"Jaime went west with Kevan..." he reminded him, worried. And they still knew nothing about Casterly Rock... They thought the old lion’s rage was because of the maester who had poisoned their mother...

"I know." Tywin’s reply was cold.

"Shouldn’t we call them back? The maester’s head is here, and you have that look on your face... Arctic has probably already taken Casterly Rock," Tyrion said cautiously.

It was not difficult to connect the dots, even though their seat no longer existed. The enemy had sent the maester’s head simply to mock them. To Tyrion and Cersei, that meant the seat of House Lannister had been captured days earlier.

"That’s a lie!" Cersei snarled, her voice louder than she had intended.

Tywin looked at her with such hatred that she immediately fell silent. She had the impression that if she said anything else to provoke him further, she would become the target of that same fury. He had struck the king. Cersei knew the mask she wore would not protect her for much longer.

"No... It can’t be. Can it?" she asked, her voice now much quieter, still unable to believe it.

Tywin pointed to the letter. "Your aunt Genna wrote it. Casterly Rock no longer exists. At least the towers above the Rock have been completely destroyed. They launched an attack with wildfire and simply brought the entire castle down. Our seat has, for all intents and purposes, ceased to exist."

His voice carried such bitterness that the room fell into silence. The two siblings simply could not believe it.

Tyrion shuddered. Some time ago, he had asked to be sent to Casterly Rock. His father had refused immediately, saying that Tommen would inherit the castle.

Now... There was no castle left to inherit.

Despite never having had the happiest childhood there, Tyrion was still deeply attached to Casterly Rock.

Knowing that his home had been destroyed left him shocked and frustrated. But above all, he kept wondering...

How had they come to this?

His father, a man so proud, was losing everything.

Losing their ancestral seat was a devastating blow. Now the Lannisters had been reduced to taking refuge in King’s Landing alone.

He did not know the situation in the Westerlands, but it certainly could not be good.

Especially since the Westerlands had virtually no men left to defend the realm... The castles would be plundered, just as had happened in the Riverlands.

Tyrion could picture exactly what was happening.

"He will not take another revenge from me," Tywin said suddenly.

The two siblings turned toward their father. Cersei wanted to shout that it was a lie, that Genna had been forced to write that letter... Tyrion wanted to believe this was all a dream, but their father pulled them back to reality.

Tywin picked up the same dented goblet, poured wine into it from the pitcher, crushed the vessel further in his hand, and once again began to drink.

A moment later, he walked past the table and kicked the damned maester’s head across the room. Without another word, he left the chamber.

The siblings remained motionless for a moment. They had never seen the old lion like this.

"Bring him. Now."

Tywin gave the order to his men before his children could fully make out what he had said.

The soldiers obeyed immediately. Meanwhile, Tywin began descending the Tower of the Hand.

"Father! Father, wait!" Cersei shouted, but he did not even look back.

He kept walking.

He headed straight for the Iron Throne room.

The two siblings followed him. Tyrion, naturally, had more difficulty keeping up, but he still managed to catch up.

As soon as he entered the throne room, Tywin began shouting at everyone present.

"Everyone out! Empty the throne room immediately!"

"What’s happening?" Cersei asked.

She watched as one of the guards handed Tywin a sword before also leaving the hall. The doors opened, and soon Pycelle was brought in, stumbling before being thrown to his knees in front of the Hand of the King.

"He will not take your death from me as well," Tywin growled at Pycelle.

The old maester was terrified. He was already frail after spending more than a moon in the black cells.

"My lord..." he said weakly.

Tywin simply ignored him and readied himself, planting the tip of his sword on the floor as he stared at Pycelle with hatred.

Everything that was happening shocked the two younger Lannisters and the Lannister men present. Even Varys appeared at that moment, looking horrified, his eyes wide as he saw what was unfolding.

Everyone realized that the old lion was about to behead Pycelle in the middle of the throne room, before only a handful of witnesses.

The soldiers quickly forced him to his knees and restrained him, leaving his neck completely exposed.

"Please..." Pycelle begged.

Tywin remained unmoved.

"I will not let him take my revenge on you from me."

It was obvious that the old lion had wanted to make him suffer.

He had intended to keep him alive for much longer. But after seeing what had happened to Maester Hollis of Casterly Rock, he would not allow Jon Arctic to rob him of the chance to take revenge on Pycelle as well.

Then the sword came down.

A single swift strike echoed through the hall.

It was not the ideal death, but at least it was a death delivered by his own hand.

Tywin let out a long breath, satisfied, as the old maester’s head rolled across the floor of the throne room.

Only the soldiers, Varys, and the Lannister siblings had witnessed it. Of course, the news would spread quickly.

But Tywin did not care.

Let them say he was acting more recklessly than any other man.

This was his revenge.

And he would not allow it to be taken from him by that damned surviving Targaryen.

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