Tywin

Tywin's eyes slowly open as his foggy mind registers the slight creaking of his chamber doors, Instinctively tightens his arms around his Joanna, only relaxing when the heat of his beloved's breath fans across his chest soothing him. Gently threading his fingers through her hair he leans forward brushing his lips across her crown, just gazing at his treasure.

For it's a balm to his heart simply being able to bask in her presence.

Tywin eventually, reluctantly tears his gaze away to gaze as the shifting of little timid feet on stone meet his ears.

"What." He asks his son, trying to keep his voice from being irritated.

He isn't a good man. He's not blind to the walls he has put up when around his youngest. It's hard to look at Tyrion and not be put back into the time when he was helpless, and truly felt weak.

Tywin is terrified even to this day he'll wake up with his beloved gone and her pillow cold. He brushes his hand across her back, under her small clothes, before curling his fingers around her waist.

The tips of his fingers grazing across the puckered scar the Maester created when he saved his wife by what he called c-section, a much more advanced version of cutting open the mother to retrieve the baby with more possibility of the mothers survival.

Marwyn said he learned the technique in Yi Ti.

Shaking his mind off of the disturbing memories he focuses his attention on the cre- his son before him.

Tywin feels his face soften when Joanna nuzzles further into him. Her nose pressing into his throat. 'My minx thinks I don't know she's awake' Tywin muses in content, looking back up, when Tyrion finally gets the courage to speak up, "I- I had a nightmare, father." His voice wobbly, but coherent.

Tywin can feel a trickle of pride in his son who at only three years of age can already articulate so well. "I see," he says, only speaking further when his son seems to not be willing to elaborate, "of what." He asks, but not unkindly. Tywin feels his wife smile into his neck making him puff out with pride.

"I- I'm not sure. I can't remember." His son mutters quietly as he shuffles in the moonlight, his mismatched eyes shining with gloss as he pulls on the teddy Jaime gave him. The sight of his oh so defenseless son makes him realize just how innocent his son is.

Still he's not the Great Lion for nothing, with that he lifts his arm off his wife and pulls at the quilt, "only for tonight." His tone broke no argument as he allows his son to climb into their bed.

If his lip twitches at the brightness that enters Tyrion's bicolored eyes before scrambling into their bed, using the steps Joanna insisted to be installed during her first pregnancy, he can admit that it's come in handy, at least with saving his youngest from the embarrassment of climbing up the tall bed. "Thank you fatha'." He hears Tyrion whisper as he carefully maneuvers himself in the bed.

Tywin feels a twinge of protectiveness as Tyrion press himself into his side, to which he carefully drapes the blanket over his son not wanting to suffocate him. He isn't one for guilt, but Tywin can feel the darkness that raged his thoughts dissipate a little as he watches his deformed child curl into his side. He feels like he's just now realizing just how vulnerable his son will be in this world, and he didn't want to see his sweet wife crumble when the world rejects their son.

Though Joanna has shown the world what a lioness can do when her babies are threatened, or disrespected.

Tywin can't count the amount of times he had to discreetly adjust himself upon witnessing his beloved tear into fools stupid enough to even breath the wrong word about her children infront of a her, especially her most vulnerable. He remembers the chalk whiteness of the foolish lowly servant who thought it was appropriate to smack a Lannister.

He can admit he enjoyed watching his wife enact her own taste of viciousness.

Warily Tywin gently rests his hand on the back of his son. The mere fact that his hand can curl around Tyrion's waist shows just how tiny his son is, and will be. He vows to protect him with the might of a lion, if only for his Joanna. He slowly relaxes when he feels his boy drift off to sleep, scared his touch would be unwelcome.

After a few minutes he lets out a soft chuckle as his wife nips his neck, "if I knew all I had to do to get you all wild and hot was be nice." He purrs with fondness as he tilts his head down carefully catching her soft lips in his. Being mindful of their son. Tywin feels mild disappointment that he can't go further.

"I love you, my lion." He feels her whisper against him, in response he tightens his fingers in her hair, pulling her closer towards him, if possible. His tone is soft and possessive as he speaks, "and I you."

"Now sleep." He commands softly nosing her, before he guides her head back on his chest enjoying her weight on top of him. As he stares off into the darkness of the room, his mind drifts off.

The only sounds being the small breaths of Tyrion and the quiet sighing of his wife.

Maester Marwyn has been an excellent investment and he has seen that his Lady wife is given the best tonic's and all the other who-ha the mad man raves about in his lab. The three years that's gone by have been strange, Tywin can admit.

He wants to scoff at the fear in Joanna's eyes that he wouldn't believe her when she confided in her near death experience.

While he isn't a believer in things he can't see and understand. He trusts his wife above all else and if she tells him she lived another life with explicit detail of extraordinary, terrifying and absolutely fascinating things. He knows she hasn't spoken of all that has, or could potentially happen, but he knows she'd never withhold anything that was paramount to their families survival.

Tywin burrows his nose into Joanna's crown, her scent calming him down as the thought of living without her makes his heart seize. He knows what type of man he can force himself to be, and knows how he would have been without his love to anchor him.

"It seems the crown isn't worth it, but God's do I want it." He whispers to himself.

Tywin wants to impart a legacy that will last a thousand years and then some.

Tywin also knows himself enough that he'll never be willing to put his golden lion and dear beloved in danger, even for his own ambitions.

He's not ashamed to admit his favorite is Jaime, because when he looks at Jaime all he sees is his Joanna, the kindness, the bright smile, the way his green eyes twinkle with mirth and playfulness. It's all Joanna.

Then there's the pure bravery his son eludes.

The Night king, something he still has trouble wrapping his head around. The fact that his little Jaime bravely marched to his potential death, in more ways than one it seems. Just to do what he believed was right and defend the realm.

His brave, brave foolish boy.

Feeling hands on his face breaks him out of his thoughts, "Leave your worries for tomorrow's love, they'll still be there when you wake up." His wife speaks, her face softly enchanted by the moonlight.

He feels an indulgent smile crawl up his face as she hooks her arm over his stomach threading their fingers together over Tyrion's small form.

The last thing he registers as sleep overtakes him is Joanna hiking her leg over his hip.

Cersei

At ten and three Cersei sits before the mirror, her hair being pampered by her mother. She can almost cry with relief when they were told her mother would survive.

Cersei will never forgive Tyrion for almost killing their mother.

"Can you do my braids like yours mamma?" She asks peering up at her mother, who in her mind is The Mother and Maiden in human skin. She feels like the sun is shining on her when her mother smiles through the mirror.

She can understand why her father adores her mother so much, 'when you smile it's like the maiden herself is blessing me.' She remembers her father telling her mother as they walked about hand in hand, the sight always soothes her.

She wants what her mother and father have, and equal partnership, she knows her mother has power over her father that no one else could ever claim to have, and that makes her proud. To know her mother has the most powerful man in the world wrapped around her finger.

That makes her the most powerful woman, something Cersei wishes to have upon all else.

"Of course, sweetheart." Cersei adored the nicknames mother comes up with when addressing them.

She withholds a scowl as Tyrion flashes through her mind. The twerp almost took her mother from her.

Mother gently and sometimes even sternly chides her when she gets too mean.

Cersei remembers rushing the hug her wretched brother at the sight of frustrated tears in her mothers eyes.

She may never like Tyrion for he's an annoying little worm, but for her mother she'll protect him from the vultures.

After all, only a fellow lion can toy with a lion.

Cersei may be able to tease and belittle her brother, but if anyone outside of her family tries it. Let's just say she was not called a vindictive little bitch by the staff for nothing.

Not that she cares what they think.

'A lion doesn't concern herself with the opinions of sheep .' She thinks mentally nodding.

She grins as she watches as her mother twists her golden hair into an intricate southern hairstyle that she knows will make her friends envy her.

Especially when her mother weaves a few red rubies at her request.

She still sometimes wished Jaime would play with her, but when she tried to get him to come to her room the last time her brother just scowled and said he's not gonna disappoint their mother again before returning to that blasted mutt her mother brought home.

She doesn't understand why her mother thought to bring a boy who's so ugly into their fold.

Sandor, or whatever his stupid name is has been hogging all her Jaime's time, even Tyrion is taken a liking to the quite mutt.

'Good the two creatures can be with each other while me and Jaime go off and do our own thing.' She thought, before he crushed her dreams.

Angrily she walked up to his best friend Aadam and planted a kiss on him, wanting to get a reaction out of Jaime, but he simply ignored her.

Now she has a red headed weasel on her toes wanting to share another kiss.

Sandor

At six years old Sandor knows he's been through a lot, from the rage of his father as he came home every night after fucking some whore, he would then throw a hand to his wife for not having anything prepared for him.

Despite the fact that he wouldn't be home until hours after meal time.

The first time his big brother punched him, it was for saying he didn't want to play with him. Sandor swears Gregor had broken a rib, but their father simply told him to toughen up, and his mother only gave him an apologetic look before following his father like a broken dog.

He tried to keep out of their ire, but it was impossible.

He still remembers the rage on Gregor's face as he saw Sandor playing with the stupid toy he had discarded in favor of helping their father butcher the game they caught for dinner.

When he saw Sandor playing with the toy, he chucked the knife away, Sandor can still hear it embedding into a tree in the distance.

The bigger boy simply slammed his head into the ground before he could think half his face was burning and he was screaming. He can still smell his own skin being burned as the fat hand of his brother holds his face against the hot coals.

Sandor doesn't know what happened after he blacked out from the pain.

He just remembers waking to the feeling of soft gentle hands and a sweet musical voice speaking over him. The first thing he registered was the lack of sight and numbness on the right side of his face.

He had almost started to hyperventilate and scream in silent agony when a reassuring voice spoke so gently into his ear, telling him he's gonna be alright. That he couldn't see because his eye was wrapped and his face was only numb because of a special salve to dull the pain.

He would have cried if he could.

When his good eye became focused he could help but let out a gasp at just who was crouched beside him.

The Lady of the West was staring at him like he was something precious, and wasn't scum beneath his fathers boot.

He learned that his father had been offered the wall or execution on the account of unlawful disciplinary actions.

The fate of his brother was to be taken in by one of Lord Lannister's most loyal houses to be rehabilitated, whatever Lady Lannister meant by that.

Sandor isn't one to believe in the gods, but he is sure something had to have sent Lady Joanna here, for she is something out of this world.

He vows to grow strong enough to protect his savior.

Lorenza, dear friend.

I must say I apologize for not being able to be with you during your hardships with Moren's passing.

My sister in all but blood, I know words can not soothe the sorrow you're going through, but I would like to make due to a debt that is owed to you. If it had not been for you and Queen Rhaella, I know I wouldn't have survived the capital.

If our bond is still as strong as ever, then I wish for you to make haste towards Casterly Rock.

Rays of the sun will be shadowed by fire and blood.

A/n:

I hope I kept our two most vile characters in character, while I want to show the impact Joanna living has. I also want to keep true to their cannon personalities.

I like to think Cersei and Tywin put Joanna on such a high pedestal that they would do almost anything for her even if it's against their personal feelings.

Tywin doesn't have as much animosity towards Tyrion as he never "killed" her -nor is he the possible targ bastard they kinda insinuate in the books-

Also he only knows vague things, they haven't truly talked about it in detail because Tywin is avoiding her near death like a plague, and to speak on that is to think of that night.

With Cersei I like to think anyone not her, Jaime or her mother are beneath her.

I mean she doesn't even respect Tywin, mainly cause he's a misogynistic man of his time and she is a independent gorl.

So, Chibi Sandor! I hope Joanna saving him isn't too outlandish. I thought about saving him before he got burned but that's such a fundamental part of what built his character, so instead I made it to were he gets better treatment and has it actually heal properly.

With a dash of obsessive loyalty to his savior.

Don't think Joanna is blind to her families darkness, I mean she was married to the man who made the reigns of Castamere a ominous meaning even before she gained external knowledge.

I'd like to think her death was a key factor in to Tywin and Cersei losing what little humanity they had in favor of ambition.

Ps: I like to think of the two souls in Joanna merging together.