Disclaimer: Game of Thrones is D&D's property, after being GRRM's property. Or else, Lancel would be the happiest kid in Westeros, should it be mine.

Summary: He was born in the light, she in the shadows, yet it was her who would become her sun. [Modern AU. Kevan/Dorna]

Author's note: This story is a bet from Assassin Master Ezio 91.

Shadow and Light

Chapter 1

Kevan stared blankly as his father's coffin was laid in the hole, ready to be covered by fresh ground.

It was strange, he thought, how he wasn't able to shed a tear, how he wasn't devastated, yet there was a sadness lingering in his heart. He had always loved his father, despite not agreeing with him from time to time, finding himself more in his brother Tywin's visions for their family.

Tytos hadn't been made to rule the Lannister empire.

It had all fallen on him and he had done the best he could, but his nature wasn't fit for it. He had been born the third son of their grandfather and it was only because Tywald and Tion died young that he found himself being the head of the family. He wasn't supposed to be in this place. He was made to be a family man. Soft, gentle, generous to the point people abused his kindess and tender being. Being kind, seeing good in everyone and being generous were qualities, Kevan would never deny it, and he hoped that, one day, his own children would have some of them in their souls, but in Tytos' case, it had become crippling and proved to be almost fatal for their clan. It had almost drove their family to bankruptcy if it hadn't been for Tywin's courage and strength. He quickly glanced at his elder brother, his face unreadable. However, he knew him enough to know that he was feeling the same way he did:

They mourned and cried their father, the man who never hesitated to drop everything to play with them, who watched over them when sick.

While ashamed due to their blood link, they were relieved he was gone because of the harm he was doing to the family's business, even if Tywin had been taking over for quite some time, with Tytos' health declining.

Kevan briefly wondered how such a meek man had managed to have a son like Tywin, his perfect opposite. Did Tywin take more after their mother in terms of strength of character? He had no idea. Their mother was a strong woman and in a way, while Tytos ruled the family business, Jeyne ruled him at home. But while she was strong willed, she wasn't as strong headed as Tywin. Was it their grandparents? He really didn't know and he wondered why he thought of that in the first place, it didn't really matter after all. Genna was standing near Joanna, trying to soothe a grumpy Jaime, who had started teething. He remembered her words, the first ones she spoke after she learnt of their father's passing.

"It was time for him. On many levels. Now, he doesn't suffer anymore."

Their father had been sick for a while, had had heart issues and had never really recovered from their mother's death. He had had several short affairs in his widowhood, but he had never wished to remarry, stating his only true love was waiting for him in the Seven Heavens. His soul was certainly with her by now, they were simply reuniting their bodies.

Tytos' funerals had strangely drawn a lot of people in Casterly Rock's cemetary.

The family, of course.

Friends.

And, most sickening of all, all the hyprocrites who mocked his father, who abused his kindness, pretending to be weeping. Oh yes, they wept, but not for the loss of Tytos himself, they wept for the loss of the purse and advantages Tytos took with him as he drew his last breath, knowing fine well the era of undeserved advancements and loans was over, now that Tywin was officially the head of the Lannister bank. What restrained Kevan from an outburst of anger was the respect he had for the dead man. And the secret joy of seeing Tywin putting them back into place later on. How orgasmic it would be! As he walked towards the grave, ready to throw earth on the coffin, he thought hard, hoping that his father, wherever he was, could hear this secret prayer:

That despite everything and everyone, he loved him.

XXXXX

Kevan had never really understood why people gathered after a funeral around a cup of coffee. They usually never talke about the dead person anyway and it certainly wasn't to cheer each other up after the distress caused by the loss of that person. They usually talked about the future, kinda ironic in a funeral, about their plans, their kids. He watched, a small smile on his lips, his nephew Cleos, amazed by how his cousins Jaime and Cersei had changed in a few months. Jaime's cheeks were still red but he seemed happier. Cersei, however, was her usual grumpy self. He spotted some people who had worked with his father.

But there was one person in the crowd that captured his attention.

She was of average height, if not short, and quite thin too. Some could have wondered if she had anorexia, but the healthy glow of her face would make the worries vanish in one single moment. She wasn't an extreme beauty, but she had a strange charm, a warmness around her that could soften even the hardest of men. She had dirty blonde hair she had styled in a modest low bun. Modest. That was the word that resumed her best. Everything in her screamed modesty. From her face that show little to no sign of make-up, her lack of jewelry, her simple black outfit, her hairstyle, the fact that she kept her greyish eyes low, avoiding contact with anyone she didn't want to talk to, everything in her could have been used to define the word modesty. But what struck him more was that feeling of knowing her. He had met her before. She was familiar. He just couldn't remember when, where, how.

"You see so many people. You certainly met her years ago. How old is she? Eighteen? Twenty at best? You could have met her when she was still a kid." He thought

"It's not polite to stare you know."

Starttled, he realized Tywin had joined him. He let a small smile escape him at his joke.

"I just can't put my finger on the identity of that young lady over there."

Tywin quickly glanced.

"It's no wonder. The last time you saw her, she had just turned twelve."

It made sense. Familiar but so changed at the same time.

"This young lady, brother, is Dorna Swyft."

To Be Continued