.
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275 AC, Casterly Rock.
"I did not ask for you, and i do not appreciate you barging in. If you are drunk, you will leave now and avoid making a fool of yourself."
"What the fuck is wrong with you."
"Drunk it is, then."
"Our sycophant of a brother told me everything, Tywin! That's why i'm fucking here!"
That did halt the Lord of the Westerland's writing, but only for a moment. "Leave, Gerion, and send for Kevan."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Gerion shouted, slamming his hands on his Lord's desk.
Tywin's glare, then, made of green ice, did cool his younger brother's anger.
But that, too, only for a moment.
"That's all you have to say!?" The Bold Lion went on, loud and uncaring. "Telling me to leave and for send Kevan!? Why?! So that you can smack his arse for having finally digged half his balls out of his cunt!?"
Tywin's jaw worked, jumped, and he carefully laid the quill aside.
"This is no concern of yours." He said, a practiced nothing in his voice. "Kevan spoke out of turn, of matters that aren't his to speak of." His lip downturned, just a smidge. "Regardless, i am your Liege, however much you, and others, seem to forget. Leave, now, and I might just yet blame this outburst on your usual tactless recklessness."
Gerion gave a scornful snort, stalking about the study like a caged beast. "Behold, the high and mighty Tywin Lannister, doing what he does best, acting high and mighty! Peerless show, turns out it's all it is." He sneered, closing in. "What kind of fucking man– fuck that, what kind of fucking Lord, leaves his own fucking chi–"
The Lord's chair scraped against the floor, and the brothers were eye to eye. "You will leave. Now"
Gerion almost did, until he didn't.
"Or?! What!? You'll have my head?! You'll throw me from the walls?!" He roared. "Had you done one of these to the blood you're forsaking i'd think you at least a man, but no! Of course not! Everyone knows it! The great Tywin fucking Lannister is anything but merciful, am i right!?"
Tywin's claw twitched, the one that wasn't clawing at the wood so hard it was leaving marks, but Gerion chose to pay it no mind.
"Tell me, do you even fucking know what the fuck they do to babes in cesspits like that? To motherless kids who look like fine young Lords?" Gerion asked, his fury gone cold and burning like frost. "I'll tell you what they fucking do." He chuckled, a crude and mirthless thing. "They raise 'em up, feed 'em, and bathe 'em. They need their bodies growing healthy and their hair shiny, afterall. They dress them in the finest silk they can afford, and they cover them in the best aromas they can find. They have them bringing drinks and food around, for a while, maybe even let them keep some coin, so that they might grow happy and never think about leaving such generous masters."
"Then," Gerion neared, close enough to see the savage glint and golden specks in his brother's pale eyes. "As soon as some sick fuck gets hard looking at them, and i reckon it doesn't take much time, they have them sucking cock for a couple dragons." He laughed again, low and savage. "They look like high and mighty Lords afterall. They're worth more than silver."
Tywin, still on his feet, had long since gone unmoving and unbreathing, his eyes still and his mouth set.
A statue of stone, or perhaps a golden one.
At the lack of reaction, Gerion's anger only came surging out once more. "Nothing!? Fucking nothing?! You're gonna let your blood be whored out to anyone paying enough, and anyone paying less than that, just so that you can keep pretending to be some fucking paragon of virtue!?"
The Lord of the Westerlands, again, didn't move an inch, nor did he a utter a word.
Gerion punched the desk so hard it sent parchments flying, before he took a deep breath and smoothed his mane.
"Look, i'm not going to sit by and let this happen." He spoke, more evenly, appeasement edged in bitterness. "Kevan might, that damn fool, but i won't. And neither will Tygett and Genna, when I tell them." His eyes narrowed and his lips twisted. "You can say it's of some cousin, dead at sea or from fucking Lannisport. And if you can't even be bothered with that much, you can just let everyone think it's mine, for all I care. I'll go get it, make a right fuss about it, and people will just–"
"Leave." Tywin spoke. "Now."
That was all it took to rekindle the embers. "Have you listened to anything i said, you piece of shit!? I won't allow you to–"
It was Tywin's time to near, and Gerion quieted.
"You, don't allow me anything." The Lion spoke. "Do not mistake my indulgence towards you, and your antics, as any real power you hold over me. You eat my food, wear my clothes, sleep in my beds, walk my roads, hunt my fowl. Everything you do, and everything you own, is mine. And now you will leave." He went on, his mouth moving, but the rest of his face, bar his scorching green eyes, locked into a terrible stillness. "And tomorrow you will come and you will apologize, whether you mean it or not. Because i am your Lord, and you will not disrespect me in my Household."
Neither moved, for a time, following the chilling speech, but soon Gerion started twitching and flinching, his face going beet red and his mouth flapping soundlessly, before he spun on his heels with a half-uttered curse and made for the door.
"I will not watch this happen." The younger Lannister muttered to himself, through grit teeth and shaking hands. "I will not watch this disgrace unfold. By tomorrow's first light i'll be gone and–"
Gerion slammed the door shut before he was done, and Tywin stood standing.
Whatever its coat, a Lion is still a Lion, he thought.
A treacherous thought, for one who'd seen to the eradication of an entire dynasty, because they'd believed just that.
Yet, no. Not quite.
Those lions had been Red, and foul, and treacherous.
The small thing in his arms, staring up at him, already had small wisps of dark hair coming out of its scalp.
And its eyes, those eyes that bore unafraid unto his own, they were a pale green, flecked with gold.
A tiny hand reached towards him, and Tywin wondered idly if it could understand how utterly defenceless it was. How utterly hopeless a simple choice could make it. How swifly its life could end, and why it would be a mercy.
Tywin thought of Joanna, and a sharp pang struck somewhere inside him.
Tywin thought of his two children, and how important it was to raise them right, above weakness and meagerness.
Tywin thought of Aerys, and of how he searched for weakness like a hawk did a mouse.
Tywin thought of how that bastard would exploit this one, shame him for it, and his choice was made.
He shook his head, eyes locked unto others. He wouldn't allow it. He couldn't.
But, his foolish brother had been right. This thing in his arms had his blood. It deserved what little peace he could afford to give it.
Tywin freed a hand, a deep chill in his motions and his heart, and lowered it towards its face.
Yet, before he could do what he had to, a tiny hand gripped his thumb, and the solemn silence was broken by tiny giggles, eyes like his own dancing with joy.
Black or Golden, Tywin thought, a Lion is still a Lion.
And this one was his son.
Hello there. Had this on the ice for a while now so i figured why the hell not.
And talking about that, if anyone likes the idea, i'd be interested to know if y'all would prefer if i went straight to the books or if i took my time. Got a lot of Cieran's backstory planned already, some scenes already written, but i'm unsure how to go about it.
I might also just post an Origin story of sorts, but some feedback would be nice, so let me know.
Oh, and by the way, this gonna have a female Jon Snow, just 'cause.
Cya.