One. There were very few things that made the serious little boy smile. That day, however, he encountered a butterfly. It was pretty, but the preying mantis was prettier. The green, delicate-limbed and nimble insect moved, swiftly, to grab the vulnerable and colorful flyer. It never saw anything coming, and as the mantis fed, the boy stared in fascination.

The maester who was then his mentor (of the week, it was hard to keep them) wandered behind him. "It is the way of nature," he said, quietly. "The weak die and the strong survive."

Little Tywin smiled. "Then I will be one of the strong, Maester."

Two. She was just a little bit younger than him, and her hands were delicate. It wasn't much, to see the lovely new cousin – she was only one of many, after all. But her eyes were clear and she blushed a little when he bowed.

"Would you like to visit Casterly Rock, Lady Joanna?" He was asking with a sort of timidity that made no sense to him at all, and he booted himself for it, inwardly, as he squared his shoulders. "I should think you might like to visit the ramparts. The view is beautiful."

It didn't seem to matter to her that the view was all that the Lannisters could show her, that moment, and as she took his arm, he grinned like the silly twelve year old boy that he was.

Three. Casterly Rock was richer than it used to be, less embarassing to inhabit, but it was far from being a glorious house, Tywin mused as he returned from the hunt. There was still so much to do, and the king's whims were growingly concerning.

Nonetheless, he was content with his position as the Warden of the West, and moreso as Joanna's husband, he thought to himself, not quite smiling, but feeling weight lifting off his shoulders as the walls of home loomed over head.

When he arrived, she was waiting in the room, still slim and beautiful in the glory of her golden hair. She turned to him, radiantly smiling. "Oh, my lord, the joy that you have returned," she told him as she extended her hands to him. He took them, kissed them effusively.

"There is news," she said, softly. "I am with child, my love." That day, Tywin smiled like he had never smiled before and the festivities lasted long into the night.

Four. Tarbeck and Reyne were dead, slain in ruthless battle, each on his own field, by a host of the lion's men. It was terrible to think that they could have just remained loyal – but it was not to be, not now and not ever.

At the bottom of the tower where Lord Reyne's wife and children were cornered, a council was held while waiting to starve them out. Someone – it didn't matter who – suggested that the wife be given to another, so as to assuage her and take control of his land. Another one – that one's name was more familiar to Tywin, a young squire of monstrous proportions – insisted that the roots be destroyed entirely.

Tiwyn smiled and waved him over. "I suspect it will indeed need to be done," he said, absently. "Take care of it, and I will make you a knight, Gregor Clegane." And so he did.

Five. When he had found the girl in his room, Tywin had considered having her flailed and killed, almost absently. But she was pretty, and young, and very much nude. She did not want to die, and she was more than amenable to the man she clearly was not expecting to find here.

The coupling was rough, violent, but from the cries and moans she gave him as he labored over her, he could tell she was enjoying herself. This one, he thought, he would keep. Sweet Shae.

The thought that he was yet taking another whore from his son's keep made him smile in the dark.