Tywin had never felt more rage, and more fear, than when he watched his wife be pushed into the flames. He had tried to keep a steady head as insults were thrown his way, he had heard of the farce of a marriage ceremony Aerys forced his wife to perform, and from a Bard no less. His dagger had plunged into the man's throat before Tywin even thought the action through. The words mocked him still, 'Dragons come in mates of three, just ask King Aerys. He took the Lion's bride with steel to royal flesh, and now Lady Lannister rests in the Dragon's bed.' The man was paid a large pile of gold from the king to deliver that song, a pity it cost him his life.

Tywin's sword hacked down upon the royal loyalists, his rage boiling over. She was dead, his brightheart, gone. What happened to him did not matter anymore, only securing their legacy. He would go down in history as the man who killed the last Targaryen King, and then he would destroy their house, root and stem, until there was not a reminder of a dragon left in the world, a reminder of her. He did not think he could bear to look upon his daughter, either, who looked so much like her mother when she was young.

It was chaos around him, Brandon Stark had rushed to his father's side, and was killing the guards who held his kin captive. Tywin only saw red, he killed any Targaryen loyalist around him, and worked his way to the King's guard. Aerys backed himself further away from the fighting, his back growing closer to the flame. Perhaps after his sword pierced the king's heart, he would burn him as well. Yet before he got the chance, a roar came from the fire, an anguished cry that echoed through the hall, and drew the gaze of everyone in the room as the king's screams accompanied the sound. It was Diana, naked as the day she was born, her hair a glow of red flame, as if it were a mane of fire, her hands clawed into her brother's silks and drew them alight. The Targaryen soldiers that were left alive dropped their swords with a loud clang as they watched their king burn, his screams dying mid-cry as he died in agony. The Lannisters showed no mercy though, and to the Starks' horror, slaughtered the unarmed men who had surrendered. At the side door to the throne room, one known by few, Tywin saw Rossart attempt to escape. The man who fed the flames that burned his wife, the Pyromancer turned Hand of the King. "Seize him, I want him alive." Tywin spat, and sheathing his bloodied sword, walked towards the dying flames.

Another screech echoed the halls, inhuman and scathing, and from the dying embers, Diana stepped out of the flames once more, a red dragon curled about her breast and shoulder. Her wrists, hips and neck bore hand print shaped bruises, and her purple eyes were glassy. Tywin felt uneasy seeing his wife so exposed, and moved to drape her with his lion cloak. She fell into his arms, and the dragon curled around her body to not touch him, and he eyed it warily. He scooped his wife into his arms, and moved to leave the throne room without a word. Everyone stared at Diana's passed out form in his arms, and the baby dragon in her lap.

"Find my daughter, and have her brought to me." Tywin ordered, "Kill any who do not let you pass on my command." Ser Surefoot came rushing forward then, his brown eyes wide and frame thin from weeks of confinement.

"Is she alright my lord?" They both looked down at Diana, her waist length hair had been burned to the barest bit of fuzz atop her head, the bags under her eyes speaking to her exhaustion, yet her skin remained unburnt from the flame.

"She has nearly died," Tywin bit out defensively, and watched the young man flinch back. He knew it was not Tywin Surefoot's fault, but the man responsible was dead, by Diana's own hand.

The Lord of Lannister brought his wife to the guest chambers inside the Red Keep, not trusting her to be comfortable in the Maidenvault, royal chambers, or tower of the Hand, weary of what memories she now held of those locations. Tucked into white sheets, Diana seemed even more pale. Right after his wife had been settled in, the dragon eyeing Tywin as he curled about his wife's neck and prepared to sleep with her. He still hadn't quite processed that his wife had hatched a dragon, a feat that had not been achieved in generations.

He did not have the time to think on it though, when the doors opened and Alysanne rushed in, wearing a black dress with the red three headed dragon on the hem. She seemed paler than he remembered as well, her eyes no longer bearing the rose colored glasses of innocence. She knew she was not married to the prince of her dreams, and Tywin felt in that moment that he had truly failed her, for she pinned him with such a look of relief at his presence. "Father!" She rushed forward, clinging him in an embrace, tears openly falling. "Thank the seven you're here!" Alysanne seemed to just then notice her mother's char covered skin, and the resting dragon at her neck.

She jumped back and seemed so fearful in that moment, he wanted to hold her as if she were still a child. "Is that a…?" Her voice was shaking, "What happened, father?"

"The Mad King tried to burn your mother alive." He spat, and she gaped at him. "But she burned him instead, and her egg was in the flames. The house words are fire and blood, I suppose now we know why."

"She was a sight, my lady." Surefoot said then, "A burning lion, Lady Brightheart burned the Mad King alive!" Alysanne stared at him, trying to comprehend the information.

"Aly," Tywin spoke to his daughter then, "What has happened, since your mother and the Starks were taken prisoner?"

She was loathe to speak of it, her words short and clipped. "The King said my Andal blood made me unfit to be Queen after he passed, so he declared an annulment of your marriage, and refused to see me as anything other than a bastard. I was confined to the duties of Queen Rhaella's handmaiden, and whenever the King thought mother was being uncivil, he would have the kingsguard beat me!" Her voice quickly turned into a sob, she did not wish to look to unseemly in front of her father, but her experiences left her shaken.

"I'll have them all drawn and quartered." Tywin vowed, ruthless as he stared as his wife's frail form in bed.

"If the King is dead, does that mean Rhaegar is king now, and I am Queen?" Alysanne asked, and Tywin stared her down with a dark look.

"Do you wish to be Rhaegar's Queen?" He asked dryly, and was rewarded with a revolted look.

"Father, I want to go home!" Alysanne practically sobbed, "I miss Casterly Rock, I hate it here! The Capital is filthy and smells of shit!" Her course language surprised him, but he did not comment on it to her.

"Then you shall return home, and once you are widowed, you may spend a year at the Rock recuperating." Tywin replied.

"A year, what do you mean?" Her violet eyes stared at him, a light lavender.

"A year will be an appropriate amount of time for you to recover, and remarry, ensuring that any child produced is your new husband." Tywin replied with ease, as if he were discussing the weather. But his daughter only gaped at him, and then left the room in a huff. The Lannister lord only shrugged, and resume his vigil beside his wife and her baby dragon.

A/N:

Diana's POV next chapter, with the name of the Dragon. Any guesses as to the name? I'll give you a hint, it's similar to the horses' names.