AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for following and favorite this story. Are you liking it? Please, let me know. It would be important at this time to gave some feedback from you. It was incredibly satisfactory to write a chapter about Tywin. It was my first time exploring this character, since he was dead in Glory for Traitors. I have studied a lot about the history of Westeros to have a close portrayal of character and the dynamics of his relationship with the king. You will notice here, if you know your westerosi history, that I have planted some seeds for events taking place in a few chapters. And you also find out I'm twisting the story. It won't be as clear as you think.

EDIT 1: After being pointed out by some readers, I have edited this chapter to soften up Aerys' appearance.

TYWIN I

276 AC

After besting a dozen skilled knights, the prince was defeated in the last round.

This will do just fine, Tywin thought bitterly, watching Ser Arthur Dayne climbing down from his horse to help Rhaegar stand up.

A thousand dragons had been spent recklessly to hold the tournament in honor of Prince Viserys. Casks of the finest gold wine had been brought from the Arbor. Arrangements for tents, food stock and refurbishment of the chambers of Lannisport House had been ordered. The Tournament Grounds had been built, with banners woven by the best weavers of the West. And, of course, the prize of a hundred gold coins had been set to reward the sole champion.

A great event for the little prince's sake.

Let's hope this one survives.

When Tywin had left the Red Keep ahead of the royal entourage, the climate of fear and paranoia still reigned in the castle. After losing so many babes soon after childbirth, the king had decided to protect his newborn from any threats posed by his invisible enemies. No one, not even Queen Rhaella, was allowed to be alone with Viserys. Tywin had seen with his own eyes Aerys burning all the gifts that came from all over the realm for the new prince, piled up in the yard.

This had been partly the reason why he, as Hand of the King, had felt obliged to open his coffers and organize such an extravagance: as long people cheered, knights jousted, and ladies gave their favors, the illusion that everything was fine could be maintained. Just as it was supposed to be. Many were already whispering in the streets about Aerys since he had made his penitence. And who could blame them?

Tywin looked cautiously toward Aerys, sited on his wooden throne. Three kingsguard with their golden armors and white cloaks surrounded him. The swords at their hilts were the only blades close to the king. His silver-gold hair, with the crown on top of it, hung down to his waist. He was smiling. No, he was laughing. A rare sight those days, but that revealed how he could still pose as a handsome man.

Yes, fine enough, Tywin said to himself, exchanging a glance with his brother Kevan. The king was pleased with his son's defeat. A part of him wondered: had Rhaegar done it on purpose, suspecting it would make his father happy? The prince was no fool and he too would have noticed how the people had cheered for him when he had entered the jousting ground.

They cheer for the prince almost as loud as they cheer for me, Tywin noticed, setting his eyes on Rhaegar as he grabbed Ser Arthur Dayne's arm to raise it up. The crowd praised the Sword of the Morning for his victory, but it was clear their love was for the Prince of Dragonstone. All of them had been favoring him during the last few days. How gracious he was, so very gallant. So unlike his father.

"You were right," Kevan whispered at his side, his eyes also locked on the prince. "The king is glad."

"Let us hope he continues that way," Tywin answered somberly, standing up. The king had already refused Jaime three days ago. It could very well repeat his deed. "We will convene at the feast, then."

"And we will toast, brother. I'm certain of it."

Kevan nodded and stood up to let him pass.

The king was already leaving his chair, returning hastily to the palace to rest for a few hours before the final feast. A drink was on his hand. The cupbearer was doing his work.

"Father." Jaime grabbed him by the arm, coming from behind him. For once, he was not smiling.

"Jaime," Tywin responded, averting his eyes from his son to check again on the king. Aerys was hastening his pace, still surrounded by his three guards. "I sincerely hope you don't have that somber look upon on your face because you didn't squire today. Other opportunities will come for you to groom a knight."

"It's not that, father." Jaime was quick to answer. The boy could be not as smart as his sister, but he was smart enough to notice he was in a hurry to follow the king.

"Then whatever it is, I'm sure it can be saved for later."

"It can't." Jaime continued. "It regards Cersei."

Tywin sighed, impatiently.

"Your sister is just fine." He said, pointing his chin toward the girl. She was seated with her friends, wearing proudly the dress Genna had arranged for her. A red dress, with golden embroidery on the sleeves. Small golden lionesses, she had explained it before the tournament, twirling in the dress.

"She told me you intend to marry her to the prince," Jaime said, gulping after the words left his mouth. He knew he shouldn't have said them. A son should never question his father.

Genna couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"What of it? It would be a great honor for our House if she were to become the prince's wife." Tywin said, almost in a whisper. The twins had always been close, changing their clothes and even daring to sleep in the same bed for a time. There is a bond uniting them we will never understand, Joanna had shared him long ago. But he loves her, and he will always be a shield to her. "Neither you, not even her at this point, should even worry about this matter. Much less talk about it out loud. That's how rumors reach the little birds of this realm, and gossip starts."

Anger filled his son's eyes.

"I don't support this decision." He said. "You should have—"

Tywin smirked and placed a hand upon his son.

"Don't fret, son." He said, understanding what the boy was truly fearing. "You won't be left behind. I will find a marriage proposal for you soon enough. A proper wife for the future Lord of Casterly Rock."

Jaime grew pale, but he simply nodded.

"Yes, father."

Sometimes he felt distant from his eldest son, he mused as he resumed his walk back to Lannisport House. The child was proving to be good with a sword. A little slow with books and counts, yes, but those skills could be mastered with time. The bond uniting him to his heir, however, was the one worrying Tywin much of the time. All those days wasted at King's Landing, away from his children, delivering them to the care of septas and his siblings: it could affect their relationship in the future. He would have to consider wisely the upbringing of the twins soon enough.

And the dwarf, he thought, remembering the creature back in the nursery.

Tyrion could be a joke and a murderer, but it carried his name. It would have been merciful to deliver the boy to the frozen waters that bathed the Rock just after he had been born into this world. But he hadn't summoned up the courage to do it. Sometimes, he regretted himself for it.

No time for this now.

After making sure the king was back on his chambers, he stopped by his room to change his clothes and freshen up. As he changed his garment, he considered the Hand of the King's collar. He hadn't used it since he had left the capital, even though he maintained his duties daily, answering letters and issuing orders to the Small Council back at the keep. He decided not to use the collar that night. It was a question of perception, and lately, Aerys had looked strangely to it, as if wanting to remove it from him.

Not long after, Tywin found himself before the door of the king's chamber. The night was already falling, and a cold winter swept the tournament's ground as people returned to their tents or to the castle. All of them were getting ready for the feast.

"Lord Tywin." Ser Arthur Dayne was placed at the door. The knight of the Kingsguard had a fresh small cut on his brow. Nonetheless, he smiled politely as the Hand approached. Dayne could be the champion of the tournament, but he was still sworn to Aerys and the king surely had made him stood at guard as a prize for his victory.

"Ser Arthur." Tywin greeted him, rolling a ring in his finger. "Can you announce me to the king? I believe His Grace is expecting me."

Aerys made him wait more than ten minutes before letting in him. He had not changed clothes, still wearing the same black garments and the red cloak. A cup filled to the brim balanced precariously on his right hand.

"Tywin." The king said, beckoning him forward. He was sitting on a chair, close to the window, contemplating the grounds outside.

"Your Grace." Tywin greeted, curtly. "I hope you are pleased with the outcome of the Tournament. I was sure His Grace the Prince would be crowned champion today, but I lost that bet to my brother Kevan."

"Defeat will teach him some humility at last," Aerys said, gleaming toward Tywin with half a smile.

Teach him some humility at last. Those were the very same words the king had used a few years ago when news had reached the capital after Joanna had died giving birth to Tyrion. Had Aerys done it on purpose?

"He may be my son," He continued. "But if he intends to rule over this land he was to still to learn a thing or two about humility and there is no better than falling from his horse before a crowd to learn that."

"Indeed, Your Grace." Tywin looked instinctively to the empty chair close to the king, hoping he would invite him to sit down. But Aerys was oblivious to that, as usual.

"But tell me, Tywin. Is there any news from Lord Darklyn? I believe you have received a few ravens from the capital today."

"I'm afraid there is still no word from Duskendale, Your Grace." He said, firmly. "Even so, we can give a few more days to Lord Darklyn. If there is no word by the time we return to King's Landing, we will summon him to court so he can pay his taxes with interest."

So far, the Darklyn matter was nothing but a minor nuisance. The Lord of Duskendale, the pompous Denys Darklyn, firmly believed the city's economy had declined due to its proximity to the capital. He had asked a charter for the city's businesses, to soften the taxes, but such request had been denied to him. Opening such a precedent would only result in other lords presenting similar requests, as Tywin had advised the king. So, it seemed Denys Darklyn was making his little demonstration of power. He was late paying his taxes, but nothing more.

"You are too soft on him." Aerys snapped back, sipping some wine. "If he doesn't pay until the next moon, I will make sure the gold is paid by you."

An idle threat.

"Yes, Your Grace." Tywin obliged to the threat, managing to save for himself the words he wanted to say. There was no reason arguing against it. The king wouldn't remember the threat next morning. "I'm afraid, though, I haven't come here today to bother you with such matters. We can resume our discussions about the realm's affairs after the festivities."

"Ah, yes, the festivities." Aerys sipped again, and the sound of his lips sucking the wine made Tywin shiver. He noticed a few drops of the Arbor spilling into the king's beard. "That's why you are here, just as you promised a few days ago."

Tywin nodded, hardening his face.

"Have you considered the matter?"

"I have." Aerys continued, nodding. He placed his cup on the table and sighed deeply, scratching his ear with the point of a nail. "Your daughter is a beauty, yes. I noticed the girl in her red dress. Firm breasts, but they will bloom in due time. How old did you say she was?"

"She is eleven years old, Your Grace."

He had told him that at least seven times.

"Eleven." He repeated slowly, considering the number in his lips. "My son is what? Nineteen?"

"Seventeen, Your Grace." Tywin corrected him. "A little older than my daughter, but I believe she could marry him in two or three years."

"Has she bled yet?"

Tywin clenched his teeth.

"My sister believes it won't take long before she bleeds for the first time."

"So, she doesn't have her blood yet." Considered Aerys, contemplating again the grounds outside. "It's a pity, really. But you may be lucky. I like the sound of their names together. Rhaegar and Selyse."

"Cersei, Your Grace."

Aerys knew perfectly well what was her name. This was a poor attempt to get under his nerves, once again.

"Cersei, Selyse, Rhaella." Aerys shrugged. "A woman first name never matters, does it? It's her family name I have to consider. A Targaryen Prince married to a Lannister. It would be a great feat for your House, wouldn't it?"

He is just teasing me.

"You would bestow upon our House the greatest honor there is." He said, humbly.

"I never doubt that. Well, I have also asked my son what he thinks of your girl." Aerys mused again, his hands back on the cup of wine. "He doesn't oppose to the betrothal. You know how the boy is, always playing his pretty little harp or with a nose stuck in a book… I don't think he considered seriously the matter when I asked him. Even so, I think he likes your daughter." Aerys laughed, snorting. "Like father, like son, isn't it? I also had an eye for a Lannister girl, once…"

Just bating me.

"I suppose this is a yes, then, Your Grace?" Tywin spoke louder than he wanted. Loud was often interpreted as an offense to the king.

Aerys turned his head to him, and a smile touched again his lips. His tunic was stained with wine.

"I will concede to it if you allow me a trip to Casterly Rock."

Tywin shook his head before he could even think otherwise.

"As I have told you, Your Grace, we suffered a leakage in one of our roofs." He tried to excuse himself. He had always considered himself to be a good liar. The Gods knew how much he had practiced with his late father. "The castle isn't suitable for guests."

"I haven't asked to sleep in your fucking bed, have I, Tywin?"

The Hand of the King he could be, but it seemed he remained powerless whenever Joanna's memory emerged.

"We could ride to the Rock in the night and be back in three hours," Aerys said. He had plotted everything in his mind. "But you don't want me there, do you? The simple idea of me visiting Joanna's tomb makes you sick with jealousy."

Those words hurt him because they were true.

"I beg you, Your Grace. Let us not speak of the dead."

Aerys' eyes darted toward Ser Arthur Dayne, still placed by the door.

"What will you do if I refuse, Tywin?" Aerys licked his lips, savoring the remnants of wine. "Would you harm your king under your roof?"

"I would never harm you, Aerys." Enough with the formalities. The man was drunk and lusting again for his dead wife. After all the bloody tournament, the only thing he asked of him was yes. A simple word from his lips, so that he could formalize the bloody betrothal. Was he asking for much? "But I begged you, in honor of our friendship, to never mention Joanna's name again. That was my condition to serve you as Hand."

Aerys raised his glass again and spilled its entire content on the floor.

"I may not be granted the wish of visiting her tomb, Tywin, but you will serve me as Hand until I say otherwise." He told, standing up. He leaned on his chair, barely able to sustain on his feet. "You are a servant of the crown. A mere servant." He gulped, shaking his hand to send him away. "And no servant's daughter is fit to marry a prince of royal blood. So, there you have it. My final answer."

Insulted twice under my own roof.

Tywin's fingernails plunged into the skin of his hand.

"Very well, Your Grace."

Aerys laughed again, a rasping sound that told much about the man he was.

"I will know you for a traitor if you turn your back to me."

"I have dedicated most of the last twenty years to serve you." Tywin retorted, severely. "I have proved myself enough."

"Doing a shitty job," Aerys concluded, hammering his empty cup on the battle. "Get out now, before I drag you back to King's Landing in chains."

"As you wish, Your Grace." He repeated, always holding himself. Losing his head before the king could actually mean losing his head.

"And fetch my servants, Tywin." Aerys barked as if his Hand of the King was nothing more than a cupbearer. "We are done here. We will return to the capital right away. To hell with your fucking feast."

Tywin turned his back to leave the room right away. Ser Arthur Dayne exchanged a long glance with him, condemning as much as him the king's behavior. The altercation between them three days ago, when Aerys had refused Jaime as a squire to Rhaegar, was nothing compared to this. The only fight they had with such a dimension had been when they were kids, and Aerys was still a mere prince whom he could insult without committing treason.

Cersei was waiting for him when he returned his chamber. There she was, sitting by the fireplace, posing in such a delicate way, but at the same time feral as a lioness. Genna was with her, and both of them were giggling when he closed the door.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, removing his cloak.

"Father, Jaime told me you were visiting the king," Cersei said, smiling widely as soon as he approached. "Has the king give you an answer?"

She was not supposed to know, but heartbreak would make her strong.

"There will be no marriage." He said, throwing an accusatory glance toward Genna. "And there will be no feast, too."

Cersei laughed, not believing him.

"Father, you are not one used to jest with serious matters."

"You won't marry the prince," Tywin repeated, rather bluntly. He grabbed a jar of wine and poured himself a glass, not enough to make him dizzy. "Now go, both of you. Go back to your chambers and don't leave them until the morrow. I have letters to write and ravens to send."

Cersei looked at him, still smiling, unable to understand. Panic settle in her emerald eyes when she turned for her aunt to help, and Genna grabbed her hand to take her from the room.

"You are lying," Cersei said again, refusing to leave. "I know I will marry the prince. I will be the queen."

"You won't marry the prince. Not this one." Tywin said, pushing his chair. "Genna, take the girl to bed. And make sure you wipe away her tears. They are yours to blame, for not keeping your mouth shut."