Chapter 37: The Dragon's Ascent, The Hawk's Looming Shadow
The years that followed the fracturing of the Vale saw Darth Vorhax, cloaked in the guise of Lord Ellys Vorant, further consolidate his dominion over the Stormlands. He watched the unfolding tragedy of the War of the Five Kings with detached interest, a puppeteer observing his marionettes dance to their bloody ends. Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, fell at the Red Wedding, his honor and tactical brilliance no match for the Lannisters' treachery and the Freys' broken oaths. Stannis Baratheon, driven by his grim sense of right and the unsettling power of the Red Woman, fought on, his forces dwindling, his cause increasingly desperate. The Lannisters, triumphant on the surface, faced growing unrest, internal rivalries, and the slow, insidious rot of their own cruelty and arrogance.
Vorhax, however, was not concerned with the petty squabbles of kings. His gaze was fixed on a more distant, more potent threat, a force he had glimpsed in his Force visions, a power that would reshape the very fabric of Westeros: Daenerys Targaryen. Across the Narrow Sea, the last dragon queen was rising, her dragons growing, her armies swelling, her name a whisper of fire and blood on the winds. Vorhax saw her ultimate triumph, her conquest of the Iron Throne, and then, her sudden, violent end, murdered by a shadow in the Red Keep.
This future, this vision of a dragon queen's brief, bloody reign, became the focal point of Vorhax's long-term strategy. He would not rush into the fray, nor would he exhaust his strength in the endless conflicts of the Five Kings. He would bide his time, prepare his forces, and wait for the moment Daenerys Targaryen took the Iron Throne. He would let her break the power of the Great Houses, let her burn away the old order, and then, in her moment of victory, in her moment of vulnerability, he would strike. He would claim the ashes of her empire, and from them, forge his own.
His efforts in the Stormlands became singularly focused: the creation of a military force unparalleled in Westeros. The Storm Army, now numbering over fifty thousand, was a machine of war, its soldiers rigorously trained, impeccably equipped with Stonefang steel, and utterly loyal to their Hawk Lord. The Obsidian Guard, a legion of one thousand black-armored warriors, were his elite, his shock troops, their discipline and combat prowess legendary. He continued to experiment with "dragon's breath," his refined black powder, developing devastating siege engines and crude but effective cannons, weapons that would give him a decisive edge in any future conflict.
His control over the Stormlands was absolute. Those lords who had initially chafed under his authority were now either dead, replaced by more pliable heirs, or utterly subservient, their lands and resources integrated into his war machine. Storm's End, the ancient Baratheon seat, was his fortress, its defenses strengthened, its garrison a hand-picked force of Obsidian Guard and loyal Stormlanders. His fleet, the black-sailed Hawk's Armada, patrolled the southern seas, its presence a constant reminder of his power.
His son, Edric Vorant, now in his early twenties, was a capable administrator and a competent commander, overseeing the day-to-day governance of his vast territories. But Vorhax knew Edric lacked the darkness, the ambition, the ruthlessness to be his true heir. He was a tool, a necessary component of the Vorant facade, but not the inheritor of his Sith legacy. His daughter, Lyra, however, continued to intrigue him. Her sharp intellect, her quiet perceptiveness, and her subtle understanding of power dynamics made her a valuable asset, though her role remained carefully circumscribed by the patriarchal norms of Westeros.
As news of Daenerys Targaryen's victories in Essos reached Westeros – the fall of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen, the liberation of slaves, and the terrifying power of her dragons – Vorhax's preparations intensified. He sent agents across the Narrow Sea, ostensibly as merchants or scholars, but in reality, to gather intelligence, to assess Daenerys's strengths and weaknesses, and to seek out any vulnerabilities he could exploit. He studied ancient texts, seeking any knowledge of dragon lore, any means to control or counter these mythical beasts.
He also began to subtly influence the political landscape of Westeros, manipulating events from the shadows. He provided discreet support to Doran Martell, the Prince of Dorne, encouraging his long-simmering resentment against the Lannisters and subtly guiding his alliance with Daenerys Targaryen. He maintained contact with the remnants of House Tyrell, their power diminished but their ambition undimmed, their desire for revenge against the Lannisters a useful tool. He even reached out, through carefully veiled correspondence, to the Ironborn under Euron Greyjoy, recognizing their potential as a disruptive force, a wild card he could play when the time was right.
His ultimate plan was a masterpiece of Sith patience and cunning. He would allow Daenerys to conquer Westeros, to expend her strength in the inevitable wars against the Lannisters and whatever other factions remained. He would let her dragons burn away the old order, paving the way for his own. And then, when she was exhausted, when her enemies were defeated, when her reign was at its zenith, but also at its most vulnerable, he would strike.
His agents in the Red Keep, long embedded in the court, would ensure that the prophecy of her death was fulfilled. They would orchestrate her assassination, framing a convenient scapegoat, perhaps even manipulating a rival faction to take the blame. And then, as the realm descended into chaos once more, as the lords of Westeros fought over the remnants of her empire, he would unleash the full might of the Storm Army.
He would present himself not as a conqueror, but as a savior, a bringer of order and stability. He would offer the exhausted, leaderless lords of Westeros a choice: bend the knee to his rule, or be crushed beneath the black talons of the Hawk. And with his superior army, his advanced weaponry, and his ruthless determination, he knew they would yield.
From the ashes of Daenerys Targaryen's brief, fiery reign, a new empire would rise. An empire forged in iron and darkness, ruled by a Sith Lord whose power would eclipse even the ancient kings of Valyria. The game of thrones would finally be over. And Darth Vorhax, the Hawk Lord of the Stormlands, would be the sole victor.
His gaze swept over the map of Westeros in his war room at Stonefang. The pieces were moving, the players positioning themselves for the final act. Daenerys Targaryen was on her way, her dragons a storm on the horizon. And he, Darth Vorhax, was ready. The years of waiting, the years of preparation, were about to bear their dark fruit. The final sweep was at hand.