Chapter Text
The room falls silent as the screen fades to black. The voice of the Narrator echoes through the chamber once more.
"Now onto the next universe, one that has consequences not just for your planet, but for your entire galaxy. For this part, we will focus not on your planet, but in the stars."
The gathered lords and ladies exchange confused and curious glances, as a vast expanse of space fills the screen. Stars twinkle against the dark void, and a massive starship comes into view, its sleek design and advanced technology unlike anything they have ever seen.
The screen flickers and shows a chaotic space battle unfolding. Starships of various designs engage in fierce combat, exchanging volleys of energy blasts. Every so often, a ship explodes in a dazzling display of lights.
“By the Gods, metal ships sailing the stars.” Tyrion says in awe
"Captain, this is a losing battle!" a desperate voice calls out amidst the chaos.
The camera shifts to the bridge of one of the starships, revealing the captain. The sight is stunning—the man is clearly not of their race. He stands taller than even the Mountain, with a snout and ears resembling a wolf, covered in fur.
"This was a Bulnair, a race that had evolved on Bul Prime, a planet far away from your own," the Narrator explains, as the Westerosi stare in shock and curiosity at the Bulnair captain.
"Captain!" A female officer screams, her voice piercing through the chaos. The Captain and the male officer turn just in time to see a blast slam into the bridge, engulfing them in a fiery explosion. The screen shows the bridge being torn apart, and the ship begins to implode from the damage, debris scattering in every direction.
“By the Gods, the destruction.” Catelyn says in horror, not noticing Tywin and Cersei lean forwards in greed
The camera shifts to the enemy flagship, its design imposing and menacing. Orders are given, and the enemy ships change their formation, focusing their firepower on the planet below.
The screen shows Bul Prime, the homeworld of the Bulnair, coming into view. The lush landscapes and advanced cities that were once vibrant and full of life are now under siege. The enemy ships unleash a devastating bombardment, raining destruction from above. Buildings crumble, people are turned into ash and the world burns under the barrage.
The Westerosi in the room watch in stunned silence, their faces reflecting the horror and terror they felt as the scene continued
“We would be completely defenseless against them.” Ned spoke up, terrified as he stared at the screen
The scene shifts to other planets, each home to a different allied species. The same brutal assault is carried out, with enemy ships methodically glassing the homeworlds, turning once-thriving civilizations into barren wastelands. The screen shows the devastation on multiple worlds, highlighting the scale and cruelty of the enemy's campaign.
The camera returns to Bul Prime, showing the aftermath of the attack. The once lush and vibrant planet is now a smoldering ruin, its skies darkened by the smoke of countless fires.
"Eventually though, the enemy returns to dark space, not knowing they left survivors."
The image on the screen shifts to a serene, yet eerie, space station. Rows of cryo-chambers line the walls, each containing a figure in suspended animation. As the camera zooms in, one chamber begins to glow and hum, its occupant stirring from a long sleep.
The figure emerging from the cryo-chamber is unlike anything the Westerosi have ever seen. Resembling a living tree, with bark-like skin and branches extending from its body.
The figure croaks, its voice resonating with the weight of centuries.
“Is that a Heart Tree?” Arya asks in confusion, tilting her head at the screen “Aye, it does look like one.” Robb nods, agreeing with his sister
"How long?" The figure croaks
The camera pans to a floating, holographic interface, its disembodied voice responding, echoing through the chamber and startling the Westerosi.
"The Darkness has returned to dark space."
“Is that a God?” Barristan mutters under his breath
The living tree-like being, a member of a race known as the Sylvani, steps out of the chamber, its movements slow and deliberate as it adjusts to its surroundings. More Sylvani begin to awaken, emerging from their cryo-sleep.
"I asked how long?" the figure says angrily
The disembodied voice responds calmly, yet with a sense of gravity.
"It has been approximately 24,879 years since the Darkness went into Dark Space."
The figure, visibly distressed, presses further.
"And the other races?"
The voice responds, its tone shifting to one of sadness and regret.
"The Bulnair, Saikaids, Xussi, Bogas, Kron, and Emil are extinct. Your group is the last of the Sylvani. I am sorry."
The weight of the revelation sinks in, and the Sylvani slams its hand on the ground in a fit of anger and sorrow.
“Those things wiped out entire species?” Renly Barratheon asks in horror, imagining them turning towards Westeros and nobody being able to stop them
"What of the races of this cycle?"
The AI responds promptly, displaying a series of holographic images showcasing various alien species and their homeworlds.
"The Trolkiens, the Chonuth, the Nir, and Humanity," the AI states, each name accompanied by a detailed image of their respective homeworlds.
“Only four?” The Sylvani asks in disbelief
“They are the only ones I could find without alerting the darkness.”
The camera focuses first on the Trolkien homeworld, a planet teeming with life and vast jungles. The Trolkiens themselves are depicted as robust, amphibian-like creatures.
Next, the Chonuth homeworld is shown, a harsh desert planet with sprawling dunes and minimal vegetation. The Chonuth appear as resilient, insectoid beings.
The Nir homeworld follows, serene and oceanic planet, with the Nir depicted as graceful, aquatic humanoids.
Finally, the image shifts to Planetos, showing familiar landscapes of Westeros, Essos, and the surrounding regions.
The Sylvani figure studies each image intently, the weight of their decision clear in their gaze.
"Here, we will start here," the figure declares, eyes fixed on Planetos. "The other homeworlds are not fit for our kind to survive or thrive in."
The Westerosi look at each other in concern, not knowing what would happen to their world with this new race coming to it.
The screen transitions to a large chamber within the dying planet. The tree-like figure stands at the center, surrounded by the remaining Sylvani.
"Gathered Sylvani, I bring grave news," the figure begins, its voice resonating with the weight of the centuries. "The Bulnair, the Saikaids, the Xussi, the Bogas, the Kron, and the Emil—all are extinct. We are the last of our kind."
The Sylvani in the room react with shock and sadness, whispers and murmurs filling the air. The figure raises a hand, calling for silence, and continues.
"But this is not the end. Though our people have suffered immeasurable loss, we have a duty to carry on their legacy. We will begin again, and we will ensure that the sacrifices of our people and every race before us are not in vain."
The figure gestures and Planetos materializes in the air. The room falls silent as the Sylvani gaze upon the image.
"This world, Planetos, will be our new beginning. Here, among the humans, we will rebuild. We will teach them, guide them, and together, we will forge a future that stands against the darkness."
“Who are they to think to guide us?” Cersei demands angrily, looking at these… abominations
"We will build Humanity into a powerhouse, armed with our ancient knowledge and technology. They will stand with our descendants, and together, we will avenge our people and the countless races before us. We will prepare for the inevitable return of the Darkness, and we will ensure that this galaxy will not fall to those monsters ever again."
The Sylvani in the room begin to cheer, their voices rising in unison.
The screen transitions to the ancient North, showing the harsh and rugged landscape of early Westeros. The camera focuses on a group of Northerners, led by Bran the Builder, as they witness an extraordinary event.
A bright light streaks across the sky, leaving a trail of fire and smoke. The Northerners watch in awe and fear as a massive ship crashes into the frozen ground, sending a shockwave that shakes the earth.
Bran the Builder, a tall and imposing figure with a commanding presence, raises his hand to silence the murmurs of his people.
"We must investigate," Bran says, his voice steady and authoritative. "Whatever this is, it has come to our lands, and we must determine if it is a threat to us like the White Walkers."
The group cautiously approaches the crash site, their breath visible in the cold air. As they draw nearer, the smoke clears, revealing the alien ship—its sleek, organic design unlike anything they have ever seen.
The Northerners stand in stunned silence, their eyes wide with wonder and fear. Suddenly, the ship's doors begin to open with a low hum. The Sylvani, emerging from the wreckage, step into the light.
One of the Northerners, struck by fear and awe, kneels down and loudly proclaims, "They are the Old Gods, come to walk among us!"
The declaration sends a ripple through the crowd, and the Northerners quickly fall to their knees in reverence, believing they are in the presence of their deities. Bran the Builder himself kneels, his head bowed in respect.
The Sylvani, understanding the significance of the moment, exchange glances before their leader steps forward. The leader speaks in a calm, resonant voice.
"Rise,," the Sylvani leader says, their voice filled with ancient wisdom. "We have come to your land, and we are pleased with your strength and spirit. Tell us of your land and your people."
“Are they pretending to be our Gods?” Ned asks angrily, looking at the screen as the Sylvani continued manipulating the Northerners
Bran, still in awe, slowly stands up and addresses the Sylvani.
"This land is called the North, a harsh yet beautiful place where we, have lived for generations. We are a people of strength and honor, guided by your wisdom and grace."
The Sylvani leader nods, acknowledging Bran's words.
“Tell me Human, how would you like to control not just this kingdom, but every kingdom in the galaxy, bringing the grace and knowledge of us to everyone?” The Sylvani asks, tilting its head.
"It would be an honor," Bran says, his voice awe and shock. "To sail the stars like our Gods and bring their wisdom to others.
Cersei scowls, it should be the Lannsiters given this honor, not a bunch of frozen savages
The screen transitions to scenes of swift and decisive action as the Sylvani and their Northern allies expand their influence across Planetos. The combined might of their advanced technology and the Northerners' strength and determination leads to rapid victories, uniting the various regions under a single banner.
In the South, the powerful kingdoms of the Reach, Dorne, and the other kingdoms fall one by one to the overwhelming force of the Sylvani-Northern alliance. The once-mighty armies of the other kingdoms are no match for the advanced weapons and strategies employed by the united front.
The southerners shift in their chairs, terrified by how quickly their armies are taken out as the Sylvani ignore their walls and drop their troops into the courtyard of every castle in each region.
The camera shows scenes of Sylvani ships hovering above key cities, their presence a symbol of the new order. The leaders of the conquered regions kneel before the combined forces, pledging their loyalty to the new Empire.
The Southerners, initially wary and resistant, come to understand the benefits of the alliance as infrastructure improves, new technologies are introduced, and peace is established.
In Essos, the powerful city-states and vast empires are similarly subdued. The Free Cities, the Dothraki, and even the distant lands of Yi Ti and Asshai recognize the might of the Sylvani and their Northern allies. The entire planet, once divided by centuries of conflict and strife, is united under one massive Empire.
Catelyn frowns, wary of the Sylvani, but like everyone else, in awe in the technology of the Sylvani and how quickly they took the Planet
The screen transitions to a scene set 10,000 years in the future. Winterfell has transformed into an advanced metropolis. Towering skyscrapers, gleaming with futuristic technology, stand where stone walls once did.
The camera pans over the sprawling city, showcasing the harmonious blend of Sylvani organic architecture and human technological innovation. The streets are bustling with activity, as Sylvani and humans move through the city, their coexistence a testament to centuries of collaboration and growth.
"This... this is Winterfell?" Ned mutters, his voice filled with astonishment. "I can hardly recognize it."
Catelyn was equally stunned.
"The walls are gone, replaced by... these incredible structures. It's as if we are looking at another world," she says
Sansa nods "It's beautiful," she whispers.
Arya, always the adventurer, is captivated by the possibility of this future.
"I want to see more," Arya says eagerly. "To explore these streets and learn from those who built this."
In the grand hall the leaders of the united Empire gather.
At the center of the hall stands Emperor Adrian Stark. who steps forward to address the gathered assembly.
"People of the Empire, honored allies," Emperor Adrian begins "Today, we stand at the threshold of a new era. The Old Gods have spoken, and it is time for us to leave our planet and take control of the other worlds in our galaxy."
The camera shifts to the assembly, showing the varied reactions of the representatives. The Sylvani, nod in solemn agreement, while the humans listen intently.
Emperor Adrian continues, his gaze sweeping over the assembly.
"For centuries, we have built our strength, united our people, and prepared for this moment. The wisdom of the Old Gods and the knowledge of the Sylvani have guided us. Now, it is our duty to spread our influence across the stars, to bring light to the darkest corners of the galaxy."
"Our journey will not be without challenges," Emperor Adrian warns. "The Darkness have ravaged countless civilizations. They are a scourge upon the galaxy, demons that threaten all life. But together, we have the strength, the wisdom, and the will to stand against them."
The assembly reacts with a wave of murmurs and nods of agreement. The resolve in the room is palpable.
"We will prepare our fleets, our warriors, and our allies," Emperor Adrian declares, his voice rising with conviction. "We will spread the light of our Empire and the Old Gods to every corner of the galaxy. And when the Darkness return, we will be ready. We will fight with the strength of the Old Gods and the courage of humanity."
And with that, the screen turns blank once more