Author's note: compared to a Song of Ice and Fire I changed the timelines a little bit, for what happened in the prologue obviously needed the added magic of Daenerys' dragons. They are therefore newly hatched as the events of this story take place.

Below chapter is partly about Joanna and Tywin and I couldn't resist publishing it on 14 February of all days. Chapter three probably won't be published until the end of March.

JOANNA

She was so exhausted that she couldn't even groan when a new wave of pain tortured her. More blood flowed over her thighs. Two assistants of the midwife supported her or she would fall of the birthing chair. There were panicked voices that called for more aid and then, just like that, she was behind her writing desk. The shock of it made her gasp.

'My lady?'

Joanna recognised the voice of her lady-in-waiting but she didn't look up. She touched her stomach, anticipating another contraction any moment. Her stomach was flat. Her hand went down, expecting to feel moist but her skirt was dry. She brought her trembling hand up just to be sure and noticed that it was different. Older.

'My lady? You are not well. I will fetch the maester.'

OoOoO

It wasn't just her hand that looked older: her servants did too. The maester was a man she'd never met before. "You don't recognise me, do you my lady?"

In what must be a feverish dream she shook her head, still expecting to return to her birthing chair any moment. "I am maester Freric, the youngest brother of Lord Toland. I've been here for twelve years now."

"Twelve?" she heard herself repeat.

The maester wanted to know whether she was dizzy or nauseous or had a headache. She shook her head and told him and all others to leave her. It wouldn't do to answer questions while she was in reality passed out during labour. All alone she sat, willing herself to wake up for if she didn't she might lose her child. It didn't work. She stared at a letter in front of her. Even in her dream letters had their appeal: she couldn't not read a word here and there. Or a number: 298. She reached out for another piece of parchment and once more took in her aged hand as well as the unfashionable embroidery on her sleeve. The second letter too was dated in 298.

She carefully rose, expecting her legs to fail her, but they didn't. She walked to a window and stared out over green land. At a distance there was a building that hadn't been there a day ago when she'd gone into labour. She placed her cool hands on her stomach and stood there until the door opened. She turned around, knowing there'd only be one person who'd not feel included in being excluded. Tywin too had aged. He looked at her worriedly. "Do you really not have a headache?" he asked as he walked toward her.

"I don't."

"The maester fears that you've lost at least twelve years of your memory."

"It is 298 after the conquest?"

"Aye."

"Twenty-five then."

Tywin used his thumb to remove a tear from her cheek. "I will help you."

"I know. Bald suits you my love."

"So you've told me," Tywin gently said. "Are you all right?"

"I will be."

Tywin brought Joanna's hands to his lips and pressed a kiss on each.

"Did the child live?"

"Is being in labour the last thing you recall?"

"Yes."

"The babe didn't make it."

She leaned into her husband and he held her, caressing her back and hair. His familiar scent soothed her as much as his hands did. "Was it a Tyrion or a Jeyne?" she asked in a small voice that only Tywin had ever heard.

"A boy."

She placed her hands on her husband's chest. "Are the twins alive and well?"

"A knight and a queen," he replied and through his anxiety for her she sensed his pride. She had to stop herself from clenching her fingers in his doublet. "Is Cersei all right? She's protected, isn't she? Please Tywin…"

"She didn't marry Rhaegar."

Joanna gasped. "Nor Aerys," Tywin quickly said. "A lot happened these past years."

"You have much to tell me then."

"I have. But first I will hold you."

GERION

Having spent the night at Deep Den, the next morning their party had grown. Ser Lyget Lydden made for the seventh bannerman of house Lannister to accompany his lady. Gerion couldn't wait to see whether the young knight would secure himself a seat at Joanna's table in whatever inn they'd find themselves that evening.

He was grateful that Joanna had asked him to join her. He glanced over his shoulder to his nephew Tion who'd also been relieved to be included in the company, being Lord Lannister's squire.

"He'll have to do with the fourth son now, poor boy."

Joanna smirked and gestured at those riding near to keep a distance. Gerion wondered whether she wanted to talk about the twins but she asked him to tell her about the noble families of the Westerlands. "I rely on you to provide the juicy details your brother left out," she said. Over an hour passed by as Gerion talked and Joanna listened and questioned. "What do you think of Jaime?" she then asked.

"He's a good lad," Gerion said without hesitation.

"He spends at least half of each year elsewhere."

Gerion didn't say that if it wouldn't be for his children and mother Jaime would barely spend a fortnight a year at the Rock. "He's simply not like you or Tywin. He's more like me. We seek distractions. He may be the Golden Knight, but he's a knight in peacetime. It's not easy for him."

"He'd be a fool to prefer war over peace."

"Yes. But he probably would. At least he handles peace better than his royal brother-in-law." Gerion recalled a night in an expensive whorehouse in White Harbor, where he and another brother-in-law of Jaime's, who'd been there to await the birth of his bastard child, had spent the entire evening and night in bed with a supply of wenches, while Jaime had won thirty dragons playing cards downstairs. "He'll make a fine Lord."

"That description doesn't warm me Gerion."

"Have you thought of what sort of a man my lord brother would be without you?"

"I doubt he'll go into history as a kind and caring liege lord even with me by his side."

Gerion snorted.

"Do you mean to say that Elia had an… encouraging influence on Jaime?"

Joanna had always encouraged her little boy, Gerion recalled. Jaime hadn't changed that much over time: he still needed it. "He grew to care for her. But what I meant was that without you Tywin would be a lesser man."

"No. He'd be sharp as steel, but he wouldn't be lesser."

Steel needs to be tempered Joanna, Gerion thought. "You've brought Tion with you for a reason. His own nephew and look at -" Look at how he treats him, Gerion privately finished his line. And look at how he still treats me.

"He does love you," Joanna softly said.

"Family and all," Gerion said with a shrug as if he didn't care.

"Who would have thought that lions have something in common with trouts?"

Gerion was glad to have something to laugh about.