Meria II

Meria had taken to dress well for the welcoming feast that Tywin has placed before her, but as she has done much of her life living in a foreign place, she has taken the tradition of Dorne and made it her armor. She takes Dorne's way of dressing and made herself bold, beautiful, and utterly enviable in the Westori Courts, both Royal and any she has visited. She made herself unique amongst the nobles of the West, and she made it in a way that they would see as 'exotic'.

As whoreish, how fond they are of that word. They throw it about to demean, to tare into you and degrade you with mud. But how little they look at themselves and not see how stained they already are. I will never feel lesser for their insults of my people, of our way of life. We are no different then them, we only do not hide what we do not find shameful. We are not shameless. We simply are not ashamed of what is our culture. We are proud of our difference.

But that she knew they coveted the 'strange' nonetheless. Many men and women are fooled by beauty, many are enticed by it, and when it is a beauty of a different sort, instead of what is 'acceptable' it is all the more looked at. Meria may have been older than many in the Western Court, and she is not immune to the fact that her hair has been touched by sliver or the fact that her once perky breasts have begun to sag or the fact that lines like spiderwebs are on her stomach and thighs… She knew that nonetheless, she is still beautiful. She is still 'exotic' to these people, and she takes her imperfections and conceals them, or highlights them to make herself be perfection amongst them.

The silver hair at her temples is twined handsomely along the circlet she had upon her head, twisted and gleaming copper adorned with russet sunstones. Her breasts are held up by the copper bodice of her gown, carefully carved and of seamless construction with her bejeweled belt. Her sleeves were light, airy silks, that flowed as the silk ribbons of traditional armor, and her skirts were the same. Being indoors meant she could dress bolder, with no wool under her skirts and fur lining her dress to stave off the cold. The color was bright and blue as the fair summer sky, painted with soft white flowers native to Dorne, and the fabric was long and loose as was traditional, the fabric a meticulous samite, the threads a glittering silver in the shape of spears.

It would make these Westori look at her and think of the heat of summer in the middle of winter, and she made herself the awe of all them. They all are dressed in various tired colors of yellow and red, to appease Tywin, she is sure, with only a few of the more braver members adorning themselves with colors that beget the roots of other Western houses amongst the Lannisters of Casterly Rock and their cousin house of Lannisport, and the few other Houses invited from across the Westerlands. Meria knew as she stepped into the Hall of Lions of Casterly Rock, that she had their attention. She knew the effect she had amongst the other guests the second she stepped into the room. There are gasps, there are lingering glances at her, whispers behind hands and goblets of both censure and scorn. And she gives them all a beatific smile, as if she is above all reproach and comment, as she stalked across the enormous room with her copper bangled bracelets and anklets dancing with every one of her steps.

Elia, at her side, stood tall and bold as any woman should dressed in a handsome outfit of a long sleeve top, lined with luminous mother of pearl beads, and voluminous pants of the same material that most mistook for a skirt, instead of voluminous pants. It too was held up by a handsome copper belt lined with the same yellow stones as the ones in her daughter's simple crown. She was dressed in golden fabric, that unlike those gold of the room, shone with metallic gold paint that Meria had imported from Essos, painted the delicate bloom native to the West that Joanna had adored, the golden-mane. Her daughter was dressed in what was fashionable in Dorne, but with the color of the House, she hoped to marry her into. It had been Elia's choice, the color, and Meria had very much approved of it. The fact that her daughter would never forgo her roots pleased Meria as well. Her first dress had been a show of willingness to assimilate, as were many of the dresses Elia had brought, but this clothing told the West she would never forget her place as Princess of Dorne. Oberyn was also very handsome in his own tunic, a bold summer green that went well with his skin, painted with bronze spears of his house. His crown was simpler, just bronze circlet with neither stones nor inscriptions, as he could barely stand such a decoration for long. He was the picture of Dornish, handsome and proud.

The people of the West took them all in, as they crossed the space, few attendants at their backs, and Princess Meria knew they made a striking picture against the Hall of Lions.

She herself was impressed with the look of the hall, even as it was meant as a secondary one to the Den of Lions that held the traditional throne of the rock. It, like much of the castle, was carved cavern of the same soft, cream gold rock. It was made singular with its adornments; the windows were made of brilliant colored glass and reached floor to ceiling, depicting a pride of lions amongst the cliffs of the West, the beauty of the Sunset Sea, and the glorious blade lost to history, Brightroar, a blade that gleamed ruby within a faceted background of gold. The walls and ceilings held gold plated torches of a delicate build, and the candles glittered a delicate sliver sheen, whilst the fire burned red and bright. The floor itself was the marble, red and luminous as fresh blood. The room was dressed for the occasion, various long tables had been placed in a circular formation, all facing a great stone platform which gave way to a stone table that was meant to seat the main family. Tywin sat in the middle of the table on a seat of stone, his brothers and sister at his right with space open at his left. His children were nowhere to be seen, which did not surprise her. They were young yet, and they would have little patience to endure a festivity that more than likely last until morning. Her own children were only to feast and reveal for a few hours before their own rest.

They were seated at the main table, as was their right, and she eyed the man that Joanna had loved from the corner of her eye. The first she noticed was that he was dressed in another fine doublet that differed from the one he had worn at the welcoming party, and the second was that Tywin Lannister was in a foul mood. It wasn't so much as his sour face that clued her in. Tywin always had a sour face, as if he was chipped from the very rock his Keep stood on. It was the fact that his jaw was clenched, and for once in his life had a faraway look in his eye that spoke volumes of his mental state.

Is the tedium of enduring my presence enough to disturb you? Or are you as Genna said, going through the motions of your duties but grief-stricken to the point of unhealthiness?

Meria found she could not precisely read this man's expression. She had only ever paid Tywin Lannister attention because of his association with other people. Joanna, her dearest friend, had been his cousin from Lannisport and hardly spoken to him before they had met in the Royal Court but often paid the boy respect as duty required. Aerys the prince had been his friend, and they had squired together with Steffan Baratheon, and the three of them were nigh inseparable. She had seen little importance, despite his status as heir to the seat of the Westerlands. What care had she for such a Kingdom? It had been diminished in importance due to poor ruling, and the strongest standing they had was Tywin's squireship. When he had become more important by becoming the best friend of the next, sudden heir to the throne, she examined him more carefully. She saw a boy coming into manhood with cold eyes and scorn for those he saw beneath him, she saw a man who saw women as sows better left silent than anything.

And ambition burning in his emerald eyes. Ambition enough for the Seven Kingdoms and to rise his House from the shambles his father before him had made it into.

Then his dour face had turned to look more and more to her friend Joanna. It had been Meria to first notice that the great heir of Casterly Rock was in love with Joanna. Joanna had failed to notice because she had not observed her cousin with great attention, but Meria had seen it. Meria had watched how his face would soften just the tiniest amount when Joanna laughed, or when she stopped to greet him in respect. The boy of four and ten, nearly five, had looked at Joanna and been enchanted. And it had been Meria who had assumed the ambitious man-child would throw away that love for the sake of removing the ridicule his father had brought to his House.

It had been Meria who had been the most stunned when he had instead turned his attention to Joanna and courted her for two years to ensnare her, to bewitch her as she had bewitched him, and defied her expectations of that serious, ambitious man-child.

"He told me I was beautiful," Joanna whispered, eyes bright and utterly baffled.

Meria stared at the girl, a decade and than some her junior and barely contained her surprise. She had stormed into her rooms, stormed in the middle of the afternoon with a flushed face and an earnest expression, despite the fact that she was not due to fetch Meria for another hour to attend their daily tea. The fact that Joanna had done such a dramatic thing had meant something. It was usually up to cousin Rhaella to be so melodramatic and secretive, but she guessed something of that had rubbed off on Joanna, despite how level headed she tended to be in comparison. She was still practically a child, after all, having only just bled a few moons ago for the first time.

"Which suitor has called you beautiful today?" Meria asked, amused by the startled flush on Joanna's face. Despite her time in King's Landing, Joanna would always seem frightfully innocent to Meria.

Blushing in the face of a man who called her beautiful, which was frequent, despite her young age. Joanna was beautiful in a way that Meria had blinked at upon first sight of the sweet face girl of nine name days, unsure how someone so young could be so pretty and be real. She had only grown more beautiful with time, and now, at the age of two and ten, on the cusp of becoming a full woman, Joanna was devastating. Many men had noticed. Even the King had remarked upon it, and Meria had wondered if Joanna would marry Prince Aerys until that damns woods-witch had told the King of what fruit would come from Aerys and Rhaella's line. The Royal wedding had felt like a mockery to Meria, and it had made her think of her consort, and how she had married him for love and that her little cousin Rhaella at three and ten had been forced to marry for duty.

"I did not know he was a suitor, to begin with!" she exclaimed, and she pressed her palms into her green cotton dress in that nervous habit of hers.

"Oh come now, surely every man is half in love with you. Calling you beautiful is only half a compliment anyone can tell you. You are beautiful. It is a fact."

Joanna shook her head, clutching at a braid that had escaped her complicated weave. The poor girl must have dashed away from her suitor in a tizzy and marched straight for Meria's rooms.

"This is ridiculous!" she said, and she stomped her foot, uncharacteristically frustrated in a way that Meria rarely saw her friend express, "He's- Why would he- He's- He's… Meria why would he tell me this?"

Meria smiled patiently. "Who called you beautiful?"

Joanna flushed. She flushed and it was the color of pink roses across golden skin, and it highlighted the green of her eyes, the elegant pink of her full mouth.

"Lord Tywin," she whispered, in true disbelief, "He hardly ever looks at me and he just- just walked up to me and started speaking. About the weather of how much fairer it is at Casterly Rock this time in Spring, that the heat was awful- and then he just said it. He looked me straight in the face and called me the most beautiful lady in the Red Keep."

Meria blinked. Have you grown brave in regards to your budding feelings, Tywin? Do you see this beautiful girl and feel the need to ruin her, as everyone else with a second brain between their legs have? Meria pursed her lips.

"So your cousin has called you beautiful," she waved a dismissive hand. She ignored the darkness of her thoughts or the fact that Joanna was barely a woman, and that thought the four-year difference between Tywin and Joanna was nothing in comparison to some marriages, it was still a difference of maturity. Being called beautiful flustered Joanna, no matter the truth in the words, "Many men have made the observation."

"It isn't like him to call anyone beautiful," whispered Joanna again, and there was… Something in her tone. A soft surprise that was partly flattered.

Tywin was not an ugly boy, Meria granted, even handsome, but his nature was as cold as Joanna's was warm. Perhaps that was what startled Joanna. The cold boy that was from the higher reaches of her cousin House and him turning to look at her with any esteem was startling. The fact that he did so in a way that could be considered romantic no doubt had sent Joanna's little heart aflutter.

"No, but he is also painfully blunt. I suggest but one thing. Take his words as they are- words. And speak to him normally if he approaches you again."

Joanna furrowed her brows, lips pursing.

"He will speak to me again?"

"Of that, Joanna, I have no doubt."

The welcoming feast was as many such affairs in the Six Kingdoms beyond Dorne, a carefully arranged course of meals that followed a fine pattern, starting small and increase in size as time went. A lavish forty courses was laid before them, one by one. All served in gleaming, golden serving platers, carefully crafted crystal goblets. The Lannister Lion roaring on nearly all the surfaces. All the food was carefully arranged in delicate renditions of lions and suns in honor of the hosting House and its main guest. Despite the fact that she had lived the majority of her younger life in King's Landing before Aerys's eyes began to wander to her, Meria found this a little tiresome, much preferring the functional bounty of a Dornish banquet, where guests could pick and chose their meals and walked around the room to reach fair they preferred. It granted more movement to the guests and eased the difficulty of picky eaters, not to mention eased the burden of the servents. But what is the saying? When in Bravos do as the Bravossi do?

Meria took pride in the way her children managed to not speak the differences between their culture or the way they tolerated the dairy-rich foods and the abundance of blander spices and more exotic game served. It had not taken long until they finished the last of their sweet meals, a somewhat impressive array of baked cakes, until Elia had squirmed, face flushing beautifully as she turned politely to her, a beautiful smile upon her sweet face.

"Mother," she asked, sweetly, "May I be excused from the table to dance?"

Tywin answered for her, speaking calmly beside Meria in a carrying voice, "I am sure my brother would be pleased to take you for a turn, Princess Elia. Gerion?"

Gerion nodded, looking slightly embarrassed for being called to dance with her daughter, but gallantly took Elia's arm and took her to the large space left open in the ballroom for the dancing. The golden-mane flowers painted on her daughter's clothing gleamed in the candlelight, and for a moment, Meria saw the future of her daughter, older, dressed in the Dornish fashion as a man with golden hair took her to dance upon the marbled floor. It would not be Gerion of course, he was to low in status for her beloved Princess despite his more compatible age, but his similarity to little Jaime gave her enough to see the future. Princess Elia would be the Princess of Dorne and Lady of the Rock, and Meria's blood would live on in the Westerlands, just as Joanna and she had fondly wished.

The possibility for Joanna's blood to live on in Dorne was more plausible than ever. Her friend had teased Meria with the possibility when she had been alive... But had never confirmed her desire for it as she had done it for Jaime and Elia's union. It was obvious with the sole heir to the Iron Throne being male and not that much elder, that Tywin had grander aspirations for his eldest's daughter's marriage. With his friendship with Aerys, his position as Hand, Meria had little doubt that the union between Lions and Dragons was all but assured. But the Sun and the Lions could be doubly bound, with the birth of young Areli, despite her strange coloring and obvious ill health, Meria would believe her youngest Prince would be good to the poor child. She would have little prospects, and to become a Princess was more then Tywin could hope for the queer child.

"Well, come, little Prince, you are taller than my husband already, dance with me," said Lady Genna, a wide smile to her face as she took her son's arm.

As if the table had discussed it beforehand, everyone save Meria and Tywin left for the dancefloor or to the various tables to speak with the other guests. Meria suspected Genna's hand in this and silently thanked the much younger woman for the opportunity.

"You look tired," she told Tywin, smiling her painted lips, without looking away from the tamed, condensed dancing that the Westori tended to favor.

Dull things. All memorized, complicated steps. Soft, chaste touches. There was little grace. Little kinship. In Dorne, the dances were freer, within a large circle and holding hands between all the dancers. It was a group activity. It was meant as a bond between all participants, a joyous movement of free movements and a reflection of the music. In Westeros, the dances were limited to strict formations of dancers and spoke of intimacy of a different sort. Elia knew all the steps to perfection, nonetheless, spinning gracefully with Gerion, while Oberyn did not bother to attempt it, instead taking the young Lannister woman into a wild spinning dance around the principal dancers.

"I have had little time to prepare for your coming. Kevan and Genna were in charge of more than I would have liked. I hope the feast is enough, your grace."

His platitudes are grating to Meria's ears. She knew that the feast before them, and the entire visit as a matter of fact, had been planned meticulously to highlight the West's power for moons on end. Joanna had sent for her at the very beginning of her pregnancy, fleeing King's Landing as Meria had before her. She had asked for Meria to come to her in joy and celebration of her new children and as an excuse to see each other for the first time in person since the end of the War of Ninepenny Kings and King Aerys' coronation. The tour of the coastline had been planned between the both of them, and how Meria and her delegation would crawl up the kingdoms of Dorne, the Reach and finally the Westerlands. It was a try to ease the tension between the Reach and Dorne, all while cementing their strengthing ties to the West. A frank show to the Reachmen the fact that they were surrounded by two strong kingdoms that found even greater strength in each other.

Joanna's death had delayed her party, and changed the entire tone of the tour.

But, the display in front of her was no doubt all of Joanna's design, if executed with slightly less grace. She waved Tywin's cool politeness with a careful, gentle movement of her hand.

"More then adequate my Lord, the West shows Dorne a great honor," she told him, plainly, and spoke with as much sincerity as she could, "It shows a great show of preference to us, and I thank you."

Despite her self promise of attempting to do her best for Tywin in the wake of Joanna's death, she felt a slight satisfaction at the fact that Tywin gave her a surprised look. Just a minute shift of his left brow-raising, but it was frank surprise nonetheless. In most other circumstances, she would have jumped at the chance to belittle Tywin's every offering. Even something as simple as the lack of elegance she saw in the welcoming feast he had failed to perform to perfection, but she was determined to try for Joanna, and try for the sake of the future they had plotted together.

"Casterly Rock is honored by your praise."

Silence settled between them. It was not a silence that spoke of great affection or esteem. It was oppressive, and in the silence, the lack of things to say was all the starker between them. Had Joanna been present, she would have filled the silence, she would have made them engage the other. She would have coaxed Tywin to be more pleasant, for Meria to be less biting and sarcastic. For them all to think of the future of their Houses, for the Kingdoms in general. Meria frowned, her heart aching for the young woman she had seen as so dear to her, to bother of them. And though Joanna had always been the one with the bluntest touch when it came to manipulation, Joanna knew Tywin so well that it had never mattered. She knew to twist and move her husband, and Tywin allowed it because Joanna never did it without the great plan in mind. Without Tywin in her mind. Meria wished she knew what to say, as Joanna always seemed to. When Meria's love had died, she had her children, especially Doran, to comfort her. She had people who loved her to aid her grief- but Tywin did not have such luxury. He did not allow himself to accept sympathy and empathy from anyone. His family tipped toed around him. As if he was a vat of wildfire, sensitive, and likely to burn them in the worst of ways should they attempt to touch him. It had been Joanna and Joanna alone that Tywin had shown any emotion.

"He is gentle with me," Joanna confessed, softly, as Meria arranged her hair.

The softness in her voice is what captured Meria. Cousin Rhaella, lips pursed as she arranged Joanna's gown, her hands tightened on the fine embroidery of Joanna's golden wedding gown. It was fabric imported from Dorne, golden dyed and with delicate samite by Meria's personal weavers. The embroidery of glittering rubies bound by Joanna's own hand, the glorious work of lovely full depictions of Joanna's favorite flower, the golden-mane, named for its dozens of layers of small petals that looked so like the mane of a lion. Not as obvious as a lion, but a nod to her House and her soon to be husband's House nonetheless.

"You love him. You do not do this just for the sake of your parents. You are not marrying him to be the Lady of the Rock?"

Joanna, four and ten, dressed so richly for her wedding, seemed to Meria to possess the beauty of the Maiden herself, smiled, wide and so happy that Meria felt her breath catch. The happiness and love in her expression made Joanna even lovelier, difficult to look at she was so blinding beautiful.

"I am so ardently in love with him my friends, I cannot even begin to describe my own emotions. I can only say now that I go into this marriage soundly of mind and of heart. The fact that this will make me the Lady of the Rock means… Nothing. He could be a hedge knight and I would marry Tywin happily," she confessed, sweetly, and her smile grew impossibly larger.

Rhaella began to cry, a series of small sobs. It was the only darkness, in her heart, Meria saw in that moment, as Rhaella quietly told Joanna how happy she was for her. The fact that both she and Meria and Joanna had married men they loved and Rhaella had not. Meria reached for both of them, her own heart full despite her misgivings of the marriage in general. She brought them both into her arms and hugged her dearest friends to her and celebrated Joanna's happiness.

The fact that Joanna had been their only concrete link was what made Meria flounder, for she had no real friendship with Tywin to offer anything he could possibly need at the moment. But it did not mean she would not try.

"You could have asked me to turn back, I would have given you more time, had you but asked," she told him, softer, eyes focused on the twirling people.

The music was lively, and the skirts and sleeves of the ladies of the West trailed on the marbled floors in a soft hiss. Tywin's hand on his goblet tightened, and she saw the knuckles not adorned with rings go bone white.

"Are you so gracious," he bit out, voice as cold as the Winter winds that buffeted at the glorious windows of the ballroom.

Meria fought the urge to bite back, and she soothed her own temper by looking at the beautiful smile on her dancing daughter's face. She took a breath before she turned to Tywin properly, scrapping her chair against the stone daises it stood on to face him. He did not turn his chair to her, and she resisted the urge to feel belittled by it.

"It is not the thought of being gracious. I wanted to point out that thought the mourning period has passed, you have shown great strength to continue your duties."

Tywin sipped leisurely at his mead, the very picture of an unbothered male.

"You expect me to crumble with the lost," at this Tywin sent her a look, an obvious dig at her own behavior when her husband had died, "To lose sight of my duties and languish in grief."

Meria slammed her goblet to the table, uncaring as various guests turned to look at them more blatantly. She had mourned wildly and had nearly broken when her husband had died. Even now, it pained her to think of him, of his name and the emptiness in her life since he had fallen in battle. It had the only been the fact that they were at War that she had not gone completely mad. She had taken her spear and sailed across the sea to aide the efforts of King Jaehaerys II, Doran at her side, leaving her elderly mother to care for both Elia and Oberyn, and Dorne in her absence. And her grief had made her deadly and reckless in truth. Emotional to the extreme, which is what Tywin was referring too. The fight she and Tywin had nearly broken her friendship to Joanna, all those years ago. He had called her a fool, to not know her place by taking charge of the forces of Dorne, and that her younger brother, Lewyn, should order her men. That she should return to suckle her children in the wake of her husband's death.

Damn you and you're power plays!

"Do not throw my sympathy and praise in my face Tywin," she hissed.

Tywin turned in his chair. Slowly. With great ease. The boy a decade her junior gave her a mirthless smile that was beyond mocking. Meria's blood boiled at the look on his face.

"I neither need your pity nor your praise, Princess Meria," he returned.

Meria bristled.

"You take our similar grief and call it pity?"

He raised a brow.

"And what is so similar of our grief?"

"I lost my husband, you have lost your wife- I have lost my dearest friend in the same breath."

Tywin gave her an ice-filled glare.

"And there it is- calling Joanna your property!"

Meria bared her teeth.

"Do not bring that here! Imaged hurts over my warnings of you to her- You won, you married her and she was all the happier for it!"

Tywin blinked, before shaking his head.

"Lower your voice woman, you make a spectacle of us both," that was the gentlest she had ever heard Tywin speak to her, and there was a slight give to his stern voice.

She had never admitted to him that Joanna was happy with him, and she does not think he had missed it. Meria took a breath, easing her rapidly moving chest into a movement that was more acceptable.

"We are always a spectacle," she told him, wryly, lifting her goblet once again, "It is a miracle that our disagreements have never lead to blows."

Despite it having been her aim she was most surprised that she managed a get a laugh out of Tywin. It was dry, more bark than anything, but it was a laugh.

"As if I would lower myself to physical blows in an argument."

No, you prefer shows of power and demeaning people, to drown a whole House to make your point. Meria held her tongue in this case, taking another breath to ease what she so easily would have thrown back at him before Joanna's passing.

"Of course," she agreed, with a slightly strained laugh.

"Is there a point to this conversation? You hardly speak to me as a principal."

Patience, you possess it Meria!

"I am trying to befriend you," she quipped, giving him a brilliant smile, "How do I fare, my Lord?"

"Brilliantly," he deadpanned.

The was an edge to their words, even as they tried to speak with more familiarity. And she knew that whatever acceptance of each other was spread thin without Joanna to nurture it. She sighed. Perhaps I have no patience at all then.

"Tywin, I know we have never held any affection for each other, and I have a doubt that we will ever be bosom friends. Our ideologies are very different," she began, taking a deliberate drink of her wine, a strong-wine that was sweet and spiced she let the admission hang in the air. She swirled the last dregs of her wine in her golden goblet, it shimmering in the candlelight a potent ruby red that was nearly like fresh blood, "But we have been bond together since you chose to marry Joanna."

"It was never a choice, your grace, but instead a very real need."

Meria looked at him, and there, she saw it, what she had known was present but he had never allowed himself to show. But for a moment, she saw grief and it was enough that she felt the echo of it in her chest. The same feeling that her driven her to cross the sea and avenge her fallen husband… My beloved Gulian, my Gul… She blinked back tears and gave a crisp nod.

"Joanna linked us. Made us allies through our relationship with her. I do not wish to let by the wayside because of her passing. The West and Dorne must stand firm together."

She had her fill with idiotic men implying that Dorne no longer had ties to the West. She had endured such idiocy all the way through the Reach. At this moment she dared Tywin now to do it as well.

"In what way do you propose this?" he asked mildly.

"In the usual way, increased trade, an exchange of cultures through the exchange of bloodlines," she listed, calmly, counting them both off her fingertips. Her bangles clashed across her wrists.

Tywin hummed.

"Trade is manageable. Dorne would do well to receive the riches of the West, and the West the riches of Dorne in return. The exchange of bloodlines, however, is not under my control. Perhaps you should have brought a larger party to facilitate this. I doubt you have come to the West to woo anyone."

She blinked. He was usually never so obtuse… Unless he is being purposefully ignorant? She pursed her lips and debated whether or not to press the subject of the most obvious marriage alliances they could form- that of their children. Jaime and Elia, and more than likely Oberyn and Areli as well.

"...he has also attached himself most unhealthly with his youngest..."

Meria decided against the mention of either union so soon in the visit. Despite her urge to be honest with him, and the words being on the tip of her tongue- Tywin appeared just affected as she had in her grief if Genna's words and her own close observation of him in wake of that. If anyone had asked for Oberyn's, Elia's or Doran's hands just after Gul's death, she would have reacted violently in the thought of parting from her children, no matter how far off in the future. She gave a cheerful laugh.

"I hope this is the first visit of many, Lord Tywin," she said, instead, smiling winningly at him, "Between both of our Kingdoms. As I was invited to the Rock, I invite you and your court to Sunspear within three years time. We shall nurture our alliance with frequent visits. Marriages will be made with the ladies and lords we parade to each Court."

Tywin gave a careful nod, face thoughtful.

"I shall see what I can arrange- I will not leave very frequently do to my position. I will not even be present for the entirety of your visit. The King has only granted me a leave of three moons, and I suspect that you planned for a much longer period within the Rock?"

Meria felt some tension in her spine ease at his acceptance. Three moons to plant the seeds of their children's marriage was more than enough. She would broach the subject then, and if Tywin refused or demured, she would secure it by the end of her stay.

"I suspect a year. No more then fourteen moons, I want Doran to have a true taste of what it means to hold Court in the Old Palace. I fear he shrieks his responsibility. What say you?"

Tywin looked pensive for a moment before he nodded.

"I suspect I can manage to persuade King Aerys to give me leave again in nine moons, perhaps for the same time amount of time."

"I leave a moon after your return, giving you some time to manage your affairs with the West before you return to King's Landing."

Tywin blinked, brows furrowing for a moment.

"The consideration is noted."

Impulsively, she reached her hand over, in the more male gesture to brace each other's forearm as a show of acceptance. Tywin, frowning, nonetheless reached over and gripped her forearm. His hold was firm, almost bruising, and Meria returned the same amount of pressure, some animosity of their relationship rising between them despite her best efforts. She smiled, sweetly and gave it a single, functional shake of a deal being made.

Tywin did not smile, but then, Meria never expected him to do so.

This is a beginning, Joanna, my sweet friend, she thought, heart, satisfied as she turned back to look at her laughing children, The beginning of our shared legacy.

AN:

And so Areli changes something that seems so inconsequential- Meria asking for Jaime to marry Elia at a later point in time, rather than the beginning of the Martell's visit.

So starts the changes in history.

Important notice: I have been doing my damndest to research timelines, important dates and points of birth for a lot of people in ASOIF, and well, I made the executive decisions in the wake of that research: I've pretty much aged up all of the Lannister children from what most people consider their 'canon' ages. I say canon, but really I haven't seen anyone's official ages listed within the books, at least as far as the Lannister's go. Just the general age description of 'young' or 'old', or a rough approximation of their age range. Them being twenty or thirty or in their sixties. I've seen several different sites list dates, or a rough range of possible dates, only to change the dates or contradict themselves within the article so I just decided to make my own time-line based on what I thought was most appropriate for Lion-Heart.

This is my timeline as far as I can give without spoilers:

232: Meria's Birth

242:Tywin's Birth

244: Aerys Birth

245: Rhaella's Birth

246: Joanna's Birth

257: Elia's Birth

258: Marriage of Prince Aeyrs II & Princess Rhaella, Prince Obyeron's Birth, Tywin starts to court Joanna

259: Prince Rhaegor's Birth/Tragedy of Summerhall, Coronation of Jheanerys II

260: Joanna & Tywin's Marriage, Tywin, and Joanna visit Dorne, War of Ninepenny Kings begins.

261: Death of Tytos Lannister, Tywin becomes Lord of Casterly Rock

262: War of Ninepenny Kings ends, Death of Jheanerys II/Coronation of Areys II, Tywin becomes the Hand of the King, Cersei & Jaime's Birth, Robert's Birth

263: Eddard's Birth

266: Joanna is dismissed from being Rhaella's handmaid, Tyrion & Areli's Birth/ Joanna's Death, Delegation of Dornish

I know that people would argue different dates, but I will not be moving things around to please everyone when it comes to the fic. I appreciate the corrections, and by no means stop giving them, but keep in mind some of the suggestions I've been receiving are frankly minor alterations that are very specific and very tedious to implement at this point. Or they are based on interpretations of what has been given in canon. Interpretation is not concrete and is open to debate. I cannot please everyone, and if I try I will not be writing what I intended to write in the first place.

~Happy Reading,

Moon Witch '96