Tywin

He had never been one that enjoyed lazing about in chambers when there were things to do. Far too many people believed that there was so much time in the world that taking moments to just sit and relax and savor what the world had to offer was perfectly fine. No, more than that… they believed that it was something to be celebrated. That it was the mark of a good and balanced mind that they were able to just take a moment to do absolutely nothing.

Fools. The entire lot of them.

Tywin did not often think back upon his father favorably, for the man had been a horrible lord who was unfit to rule, but he had told him something once that proved he had a bit of sense in his head. He'd told Tywin after his mother had delivered a dead child, a little girl that didn't even have a chance to cry once, that everyone was born with so many hours. Some were given only one or two. Some were given many. What mattered was how they used those hours. Of course his father had been trying, in his own blundering way, to explain why Tywin had lost his youngest sibling (as if he didn't know; his mother was older and thus more prone to stillbirths, simple as that) but he had seen the wisdom in those words in a different way. Every man only had so much time in the world. It was the one thing he couldn't buy or trade for. He could smelt down every piece of gold, turn every bit of silver into an ingot, gather up every possession he had and still it wouldn't allow him to buy even a second more than he had. The most precious resource was time.

And just as a baker wouldn't toss perfectly good flour onto the floor during a famine so too should a man not waste his life doing frivolous things. No… every minute must be horded, like a miser counting his Stars and Stags, to ensure that they were used properly. Tywin worked hard to ensure that every task was completed and then, once they were, he would get started on the next day's tasks to get ahead. And should he complete that he would find a new task. Even his 'leisurely' excursions, such as fishing just outside the walls of the Capital, provided meat for his meals and a chance to go over strategy in quiet solitude without dealing with the prattle of fools.

Yet on that morning he found himself wanting to linger.

Beyond the door of his rooms lay the wedding of his eldest grandson the King. There was still so much to do even if all believed that he was merely supposed to sit and enjoy in the day. It was, after all, a great victory for him. The continuation of a dynasty, after all. Tywin knew better though. He would need to keep his family in line. He would meet with new potential allies and spy on enemies. He would whisper words that would alter the lives of many and begin laying the foundation for agreements that would transform far more.

Behind him, in his bedchambers, lay his reborn wife Joanna, seated before her mirror as she combed her blonde-white hair that was streaked with a few strands of red; the only signs that the body she now wore had once been Sansa Stark's before Joanna's spirit had claimed it as her own.

Tywin was not ruled by his emotions or his urges. Yet… he so very much wanted to turn around and go back to her. To take the comb from her hand and brush her hair for her. To marvel at how she was taking Ned Stark's girl and transforming her back into Joanna. Soon there would be no need for her to hide in their chambers and no one would recognize her as the Northern child. Her hair had changed. She was older and her features were becoming more defined; cheekbones sharper, face leaner. Like carving away at a block of ice to reveal a beautiful sculpture. Tywin wanted to admire her and talk with her and lay with her. Because Joanna, his brilliant Joanna, had done what he could not: she had bought herself more hours.

'No,' he finally thought to himself, grabbed the handle to the door and pulling it open. Perhaps a bit too hard but he didn't dwell on that. 'I must continue to do my duties. For the good of House Lannister.'

He nodded to the Hound who stood at the door. At first he hadn't been for sure about keeping the man on, as The Mountain That Rides had proven to be the worst sort of traitor. He had tried to use Tywin's name to fulfill his own twisted desires and that in turn had hurt Tywin's reputation. Things were finally settled of course, with Antony compensated for his troubles and Jon Stark now at the Red Keep but still… House Clegane had nearly seen itself being added to the Rains of Castamere for Ser Gregor's act.

'Joanna is the one that saved him,' he thought to himself as he continued down the hall, the Hound remaining to protect his wife. 'She argued that I am not my father nor my brothers. So too is the Hound not his brother. Let a man be judged by the actions of his family, yes, but also allow him the chance to prove he is not them.' Tywin had been unsure of trusting the man but eventually he had given in and the Hound had remained steadfast in his mission to protect Tywin's ladywife.

His own guards quickly moved to join him and Tywin made his way down the many flights of stairs to the base of the Tower of the Hand before crossing over a bridge and through one open stone courtyard, using shortcuts he'd learned of during his youth serving in the Red Keep as a page, befriending Aerys and trying to find all of Maegor's hidden secrets. A little used door here, a servant's staircase there, and within minutes he arrived at the large open garden that was hosting the morning wedding breakfast.

Several large tables had been set up for honored guests and lesser members of both the Lannister and Tyrell families. Kevan and his family had one table while Margaery's brother Garlan Tyrell sat with his new wife Leonette Fossoway and several of the Tyrell cousins while Margaery's brother Ser Loras stood near them, wearing his new white cloak. The members of the Small Council were clumped together with Varys and Baelish forced next to each other and unable to decide if they loved that or loathed it. The Martells had been given a table too but only Jon and Natasha Stark sat there and rather than move towards the main table Tywin found himself walking over to the two.

"Good morning, Lord Jon."

"Good morning, Lord Tywin," the young man said, his smile slight as was proper. Not the beaming smile of a fool but also not a glower. Just enough to be polite. "I am afraid my goodfather Oberyn won't be able to attend. He is… not feeling well but he will be around for the wedding."

Natasha smiled as well but her's was a bit more sharp. "I am sure you can guess the true reason my father is not here. I would say it out loud, as I am sure he wouldn't mind and will later brag about it, but some of these Highgarden roses look like a gentle breeze would cause them to faint."

Tywin nodded at that; yes, he could only imagine what debased things the Red Viper had been doing and most likely still was at that moment. And yes he doubted some of the Tyrells would take kindly to such things being spoken of.

"Well, it seems to me that I have two extra seats at my table. Why don't you two join me so you are not forced to break your fast alone."

"…if you are sure the king won't mind," Jon said carefully. A clever boy… Tywin approved.

"It is not the king who is asking," Tywin said and with that Jon and Natasha rose and followed him towards the main table where his family and Margaery Tyrell's father and grandmother sat. "Daughter," Tywin said, nodding to Cersei who at that moment had her nose buried in a wine goblet. Frankly he was tempted to command it kept there as when she lowered it he could see how flush her face was.

"Father," she said with just barely enough respect to keep him from scolding her. She turned towards Jon and Natasha and her beautiful face was scarred by her frown. "Yes? What is it? My father and I are talking."

"They are here to join us," Tywin said simply. "They were the only members of the Dornish company to respect their king and it seemed foolish to waste a table."

Cersei gaped at that, making her look like a dimwitted fish. "Father… this is the table for family-"

"And I have two seats that are unfilled by your brothers that they might have," Tywin said firmly, Cersei leaning back as if he had physically struck her. 'Besides,' he mentally added, 'soon they will be family once Joffrey produces an heir and Natasha births a daughter. Better they are used to being in our company now seeing as they will be joined with us within a year or two.'

"Are the bastards joining us?" Joffrey asked, looking up from the cut of breakfast pork he was currently sawing into.

"No, sweetling," Cersei said. "Your grandfather-"

"I want them here," Joffrey said, causing Cersei to once more reel in surprise. "And I am your king, not your sweetling." He turned to Jon and Natasha. "And if you are at the table here I don't have to look at you." He smirked at his jest but Jon merely bowed his head.

"And I can entertain others so you don't have to," Jon suggested. "Your brother, perhaps?"

"Tommen… yes, yes that is very good! Be his wetnurse for me, Bastard." Joffrey grinned at that but when Jon didn't react at all he began to glower… only to see Tywin's heated stare boring into him and causing him to shut his mouth. All the time his daughter sat there, simmering in outrage.

Tywin mentally scoffed at Cersei and her foolishness. 'Perhaps Joffrey would have sided with you had you not degraded him in front of all. He is not a babe anymore, you witless girl, you must stop treating him as such. He is a man and a king and both deserve respect and you show him none. Then you wonder why he rebels against you?'

"Hello Grandfather," Tommen said politely as Tywin moved towards the end of the table where his grandson sat. He had been taking time since arriving in King's Landing to meet with Tommen as the boy was now his heir and the future Lord of Casterly Rock and he needed to ensure that Cersei hadn't poisoned him as she had Joffrey. Tommen was far too innocent for Tywin's liking but he didn't blame the boy for that; it was clear that Cersei alternated between smothering him and paying little attention. It wasn't Tommen's fault his education was lacking and the child clearly was starved to learn. He had told Tywin how he wanted to be a knight but also wanted to learn to sail a ship like the Sea Snake and recently he'd become interested in mining after he'd learned from Petyr Parker that all metal came from the ground and thus 'he who finds the metal controls who has the swords!' A smart point and Tywin had already made a mental note to bring Parker with him when he eventually returned to the Rock to show Tommen so the boy might see his new domain. Tommen would need good advisors.

The boy needed a firm hand and education but Tywin was sure he could mold him into a fine lord of Casterly Rock.

"Tommen," Tywin said as he took his seat. 'How odd it is to have a member of my family actually happy to see me,' he thought as he saw how his grandson beamed at him. Cersei and Jaime had never looked at him as someone they would smile at, knowing how much he loathed smiles. They knew how it reminded him of his own father and his failures. Joffrey certainly never smiled at him; at best he would smirk like he knew something Tywin didn't but frankly the day that the king knew more than him would only come when Tywin was dead and could not think any more. Myrcella had been scared of him when she was young and he had not seen her in several years. But Tommen? The boy everyone thought was utterly gentle and timid would follow after him like a loyal hunting hound, drinking in his wisdom. Even if Tywin didn't say a word to him Tommen enjoyed his company. It was a sad statement on how much both Robert and Cersei had failed as parents that the crown prince favored the man who instilled terror in thousands.

Tommen had been sat at the very end of the table so Tywin took a place next to him, Jon beside him and Natasha after. Cersei had tried to position herself as close to Joffrey as she could and as a result the table was rather lopsided with Joffrey and Margaery not at the center but it was the Lady Olenna, who sat next to her granddaughter and Natasha. Cersei was at the other end with Mace Tyrell and Tywin thought it fitting those two were stuck together.

"Jon!" Tommen said before suddenly shrinking down a bit. "Sorry. Lord Jon." He paused before looking to Tywin. "Is it Lord Jon? He will be lord of Iron Pointe but he isn't the lord of it yet…"

"True," Tywin stated. Anyone else he would have been annoyed by such questions but with Tommen the boy needed to learn. Far better than his brother who spat out whatever he thought and demanded everyone declare it the truth no matter how wrong he was. "But he is still Lord Antony's heir so it is respectful to address him as such."

"And," Natasha said with a gentle smile, "Jon is on your brother's Small Council and even those that do not hold lands are given the title of 'Lord' as an honorific."

"Like Lord Rego Draz," Tommen said. Tywin nodded in approval at that; it would have been easy to mentioned Lord Varys but Tommen had shown he was paying attention in his history lessons. "When I am lord of Casterly Rock if you are not yet lord of Iron Pointe I will make you part of my Smaller Council."

Jon smiled at that. "I will be honored to serve you, my Prince. But I will do so no matter what, be it as an advisor or as your bannerman."

"It is good to see there are some who know how to make alliances without shadows and blades," Olenna commented. "I wondered if such a thing were possible in King's Landing."

"It is rare in all of the world," Natasha told the true power of Highgarden. "It never ceases to amaze me how the highborn will make things far more complex than they need to be."

"Oh yes, on that we can agree," Olenna said with a bemused little smile. "One only has to look at this wedding. Lord Tywin and I are wasting very good coin on it. This meal alone could feed every person in Flea Bottom and we won't eat half of it. And then there will be the march to the Sept of Baelor… Baelor, the idiot king who believed in being pious and humble yet made that gaudy building in order to prove to the Starry Sept his… faith… was bigger than theirs."

The others at the table had grown quiet as Olenna spoke and thus Cersei had been able to hear much of the conversation and clearly felt it utterly wise to open her mouth. Though Tywin guessed that he could be proud of the fact that his daughter only spewed out words rather than the contents of her stomach considering how much wine she'd already drunk."I suppose when one's family does not build grand things but merely claims them they can't understand such customs."

"Something we have in common," Olenna said without missing a beat, taking the long aged insult against the Tyrells and turning it right back on Tywin's idiot of a daughter. "Casterly Rock, the Red Keep… you have proven quite good at claiming castles that didn't originally belong to you."

"Everyone is like that," Jon muttered under his breath as Cersei and Olenna began to engage in a battle of words. Though it was more like a child rushing at a bear with a wooden sword and Tywin had no interest in that carnage so instead he turned to Rhaegar's secret son.

"What was that?"

Jon started and blushed a little before saying, in a low voice, "Everyone here is like that. I did not build Iron Pointe and neither did Tony. You didn't build Casterly Rock… no offense, my lord." Tywin waved him off, seeing that it wasn't an insult. "The Tyrells, the Martels, the Starks, the Arryns, the Tullys… not a single can claim they built anything of meaning. We don't strive to make something new. At best we merely fix or improve what was there." He paused. "I think something else disappeared when magic faded from the world: our imaginations."

Tywin nodded at that. 'He has a point. I have made House Lannister stand far taller than it has ever before but what will people point to in two generations time? Or three? Or ten?' He found himself cursing the War against the Starks and the Baratheon brothers for a new reason: it had eaten away so much coin and now he wondered what he could have MADE with those golden dragons. A keep, a castle, a bridge, a roadway… something that people would remember as HIS. Fathers were forgotten as children become fathers themselves, lords were pushed aside when new ones rose. But everyone remembered Maegor and his Holdfast, Aegon and his Red Keep, Bran the Builder and his Wall.

He looked about the splendor of the garden and Olenna's comments about the wasted gold used to create this wedding made the food taste like ash. Yes, appearances must be made for the smallfolk and the lords but how many weddings were truly remembered? And there had been three weddings during the Year of the Three Brides and the most important hadn't been the Golden Wedding but the simple secret one between Jaehaerys and Alysanne. They hadn't needed 77 courses and jugglers and mummurs. The people that needed those things…

"Enough of this," Joffrey suddenly declared just as Cersei was about to make some retort she clearly had thought was witty but Tywin suspected would have been anything but. He shoved his plate right off the table, causing it to crash to the ground as he stood up, draining his own goblet. "If I wished to listen to mindless chatter I would…" He glanced at Tywin who merely raised an eyebrow, daring him to make the comment. "It doesn't matter. Is it not tradition for the family and honor guests at the breaking of the fast before a wedding to present the couple with gifts?"

Margaery quickly stood up, taking Joffrey's hand in her own. "My king is correct. We are so very excited to see what you have brought to us and to give our thanks. Please, bring forth your gifts." She smiled with all the grace and love a woman could have and Tywin wondered just how false that smile was.

Pycelle was first, huffing and puffing as he shambled forward and presented the couple with words of blessing, for it was expected of maesters to be poor and have little to give. Of course Tywin knew the old man had squirreled away many trinkets and items of worth in his years to feed his own tastes. There were still relicts of the Targaryen Dynasty that had never been found that Tywin was sure lay somewhere in the maester's chamber gathering dust.

Next was Lord Varys who gave them a set of combs he claimed belonged to an Essos Princess famed for her beauty.

"And what use do I have for combs?" Joffrey complained. "Is your lacking of balls making you so little a man you have no idea what to gift a man on his wedding day."

"Of course not, your grace," Varys said with a dip of his head. "That was for Lady Margaery. I gift to you something far more special." He clapped his hands and several servants hurried in with a bolt of cloth which they worked to unspool together. Joffrey at once saw his foul mood turn to delight at the tapestry that depicted him standing on the battlements of the Red Keep, watching Stannis' ships burn in the Blackwater. At least Tywin assumed it was supposed to be Joffrey… the face was right but the figure looked to be 8 feet tall and built wider and broader than the Mountain. "To honor the moment when you put aside all foolish doubt that you were king."

"Excellent, excellent!" Joffrey proclaimed happily, clapping his hands. "A wonderful gift. You captured my looks far better than any others have."

"It is like there are two of you," Margaery cooed. "Please put it away before I confuse it for you."

Tywin caught Jon rolling his eyes at that and he let out a little huff himself, though he hid it well.

Namor had not arrived yet from Driftmark so his gift was presented by some servants. It was a model of the Red Keep that one could remove the roof from so they might see inside all the rooms. Joffrey was entranced and Tywin was sure it wasn't because of the beauty but because he wished to play with it like he was a child. Mace would present his gift last, as he was the father of the bride, and thus it was Baelish who went next.

"I bring several gifts, your grace, for I wished to honor not just you and Lady Margaery but all those that made you two, for without them this day would have next come-"

"Yes yes, move along," Joffrey said dismissively, eager for his gifts.

But Baelish made him wait, turning to Cersei. "To our Queen I give this necklace." It was golden in color and upon it dangled a ruby the size of a sparrow's egg. "That stone was found in the Ruby Ford, your grace… I do believe it came from Rhaegar's armor. Now you will be able to remember forever what your late husband, King Robert, did to secure the throne for himself and you."

"Yes… quite," Cersei said, taking the jewelry with her remaining hand, rubbing the stone.

"For Lord Tyrell I present this axe which was used to take the head of the third Vulture King."

Mace beamed at that. "Why, it is lovely," he said, looking over the weapon, running his finger along the edge. When he didn't curse at its sharpness Tywin wondered if it were age or Baelish's good sense to ensure the oafish man didn't have a weapon that could harm him. Or did Mace see at once the ax was dull and decide to touch it to make people think he was a fool?

"To Lady Olenna may I present these hair clips that were gifted to your great grandmother on her wedding day."

"Doubtful," Olenna muttered. "If they were they were a useless gift; she had such thin hair she couldn't go outside without burning her scalp."

Baelish though merely continued on, coming to Tywin. "To our Lord Hand I present this goblet, made from the gold poured about the Begger King Viserys Targaryen's head by the Dothraki Khal Drogo, ending his threat to Westeros forever."

Tywin didn't believe for a second that the gold came from Viserys' head; it most likely didn't even come from Essos. The Dothraki wouldn't have wasted gold like that, choosing instead to most likely hack the head off the Begger King and remove the gold to be reforged again. Still he accepted the goblet with a slight nod.

"To the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms I present this robe, made of the finest Myrish silk. It is said that it was blessed by ten holy mothers of a long forgotten religion to grant good health and strong children to any woman that wears it."

"Ah yes, a pagan cloth for the queen of Westeros," Olenna muttered, low enough that only Tywin heard.

"And finally to our king I present this: Lives of Four Kings." A servant came to present the book to Joffrey and Tywin scowled as he saw how the boy king looked at the rare tome as if he'd been given a bowl of brown from Fleabottom and told that was all he'd get for his wedding feast. "There are only four copies in existence, each written by the author's own hand, for the Citadel has ruled that no more copies shall be made for the book is that important."

'If it were important they'd allow all to read it,' Tywin thought. 'More likely the Gray Rats have a hand in whoever holds all the current copies and make sure that they get a small percentage of any sale.' He glanced at Pycelle who was eyeing the book hungrily; he'd have to remind the man that the book belonged to Joffrey and not him.

"A book every king should read, your grace," Kevan said. Others nodded in agreement but still Joffrey glowered at the pages in bitter annoyance.

"Yes yes, let us move on. Jalabhar Xho, what have you brought for me?"

Tywin balled his hand into a fist under the table. There were still other members of the Small Council that were supposed to give gifts. Kevan, Joffrey's own grand uncle. Natasha Stark would most likely represent her father. He could see Jon Stark's own servants waiting, forced to move away as the exiled prince's men brought forth a hunting bow that Joffrey would never use because the boy preferred his crossbows.

'In his impatience he has disrespected one of my bannermen, the Dornish, and his own family!' Tywin thundered in his own mind even if his face remained utterly impassive and unmoving. 'All because he wants something glittery and golden rather than knowledge.' Tywin looked at Cersei who was beaming as Addam Marbrand gave Joffrey silver spurs. 'His mother's influence. She is like a raven who sees a pretty bobble and must snatch it up, never noticing the true treasure hidden in the dirt.'

After Paxter Redwyne presented Joffrey with a replicate of the boat that was being built for him at the Arbor (though Tywin had the terrible image of his grandson playing with the model in the tub like a coddled child, giggling as he rammed it into other toys), Ser Loras gave both a set of riding gloves, and Tanda Stokeworth presented him with new boots finally Joffrey remembered that Kevan existed and called for him to present his gift. The riding saddles were beautifully made and very practical for both Joffrey and Margaery and Tywin nodded ever so slightly, showing his approval-

"How many gold dragons did these cost you, Uncle?" Joffrey asked bluntly. "I hope quite a few. I wouldn't want you to be cheap when it came to my gifts."

Tywin was at least pleased that even Cersei winced at her idiot son's greed.

"Grandfather," Joffrey said just as Natasha had begun to rise to give House Martell's gift. He drained his wine glass and motioned for a servant to refill it. "What have you brought for me? I know I can trust you to honor me properly."

Tywin swallowed down the angry retorts; Joffrey had embarrassed the family enough already. The boy had only been allowed a bit to drink before today but he'd declared that if he were old enough to be wed he was old enough to drink and thus he proved he was Robert and Cersei's child by becoming utterly drunk before the sun had fully risen. But Tywin didn't speak on this. There would be plenty of time to correct all of these mistakes Cersei had made. Today would not be ruined any more than it already had by a drunken child.

"A fine gift, your grace," Tywin said, waving for his squire to come forth with a long wooden box. It was made of weirwood with fine Myrish glass inlaid in the top and carved along the sides to show lions on the hunt. The box alone would have been gift enough for most people but Tywin had known for that a king he needed far, far more.

Joffrey hurried around the table, nearly tripping as he made his way down the steps, and came around to happily claim the box and open it up, Tywin's squire barely managing to keep hold of the white box as Joffrey shoved it away so he might draw forth his gift.

"The sword was crafted by Klaue, one of the most gifted blacksmiths on either side of the Narrow Sea," Tywin stated as his grandson swung the sword. The scabbard was made of cherrywood, gold, and red leather with lions heads and the pommel was a lion's head with rubies for eyes.

"Why is the blade blue?" Joffrey asked, looking at the metal. It was gray with ripples of azure running through it.

"Because it is not mere steel, your grace," Tywin stated. "It is made of carbonadium."

"A rare and wondrous metal," Jon Stark commented, as befitted the heir of Iron Pointe. "It is said that a man cut with such a blade, should he manage to escape battle, will still die from the wound. It is known as Serpent Metal by many in Essos."

"Dorne as well," Natasha stated. "My father has a spear made of that metal gifted to him by teacher of his from Braavos."

While what they said was true carbonadium was known by another name: The Cheap Lord's Valyrian. When one could not purchase a sword made from the legendary metal they turned to carbonadium, which while rare was far easier to make and forge. Klaue had complained mightily about having to use it, as he felt it an insult to work such metal, but in the end he had accepted though he had failed to remove the tale tell blue taint that the metal had. It cost more than the coffers of some noble houses in the Seven Kingdoms but it was not Valyrian Steel.

And Joffrey realized that.

"I have not heard of Carbonedum," he said, butchering the name. "The word feels disgusting on my tongue. You say that it is a poisonous metal, bastard? Everyone knows that poison is the weapon of women, for they are weak and stupid." He looked right at his own future queen when he said that but Margaery merely smiled back. "Do you take me as weak, grandfather? Or a woman? I am a man… I am king." And with that he suddenly lashed out, hacking Lives Of Four Kings into pieces before looking at the book in disgust. "It didn't even cut that smelly old book well. How am I to cut my Uncle Stannis and Uncle Renly to bits with this thing? Could you not provide me with Valyrian Steel? Why not give me Brightroar?" He paused, a mocking smile on his lips. "I forgot… you don't have Brightroar. You couldn't restore House Lannister's honor and retrieve it so you sent Uncle Merion to find it… only he died."

"Gerion, your grace," Kevan said while Tywin quietly fumed.

Joffrey just gave a dismissive wave before nearly taking off a servant's head when he spun around quickly. "A king should have Valyrian Steel. Aegon had Blackfyre… and Maegor had both Blackfyre and Dark Sister. How can I truly be king without a Valyrian Sword of my own? All I have is this." He looked at the weapon in disgust before suddenly turning and pointed the blade right at Jon's throat. "You have a Valyrian Sword, don't you bastard?"

"Shadowfang, your grace."

"Why should my grandfather's bannerman, a bastard born of the man who tried to usurp me, have a Valyrian Steel Sword instead of me? Give it to me now, bastard, or I'll test this sword on you. Or," he giggled and slowly swung the sword towards Natasha Stark, taking a lurching step forward, "I'll test it on your wife first. The sword or I start by hacking off your bride's udders."

The Iron Pointe guards and the sworn swords of Dorne place their hands on their weapons. The Reachmen began to move but Olenna gave a shake of her head and they stepped back; they would not risk interfering and causing a new war on their border with the Dornish. Tywin rose, drawing his grandson's attention onto him, while Jon did the wise thing and remained utterly still. His idiot, foolish, disgraceful grandson! They had just barely managed to make peace with the Martells and he threatened the Red Viper's daughter!? If he followed through with his threat nothing would stop the Red Viper from killing as many as they could and his brother Doran would call his banners.

"What, grandfather? Have you come to give me your real present? Something better than this woman's weapon? I should call it Spoon or Needle-" For some odd reason Jon Stark's frown, for a brief moment, twitched into a smile but it was gone so quick Tywin wasn't for sure if he imagined it or not, "-for it is the tool of women. I deserve a proper sword, made from Valyrian Steel! I know Valyrian Steel, after all." He walked over to the table, thankfully lowering the blade so that it was no longer pointed at Natasha, and stole Mace Tyrell's goblet and drank from it, wine dripping down his chin and staining his shirt. "My father had Valyrian Steel…"

Cersei's brow furrowed at that and so did Tywin. Robert had held something made of Valyrian Steel? When? The fat oaf would have boasted about it endlessly if that were true. He would have held it out at parties and given it a name to prove how uncreative he was.

"I took it from him and gave it to my man, since I would not be able to do the deed. I gave it to him and commanded him to kill your crippled brother, bastard." He looked right at Jon Stark. "I never did get my dagger back. If I had I would have used it to kill my father's bastards instead of sending the Goldcloaks to do so. I asked them to bring me a baby but they are so fragile…"

Everyone went still.

Mace Tyrell had grown pale. Olenna's was struggling to remain composed. Ser Loras was near forgetting his vows as he stared at the king that had admitted to trying to kill an innocent boy that was a danger to no one. For once Varys and Baelish weren't whispering to each other. Ser Jiffsun of the Goldcloaks looked thunderous. Even Cersei looked appalled at that.

And then Margaery began to laugh.

"Oh… oh my king," she said, wiping away false tears as she smiled. "You have such a sense of humor! Such gallow and dark humor… people do not expect it from one so shining and bright!"

It was like some spell had been broken. At once all began to relax. Joffrey was befuddled at first then smiling as how Margaery was complimenting him; Tywin wondered if the fool even realized how she'd just saved his life and perhaps even his reputation.

Tywin didn't breathe easier until Joffrey sheathed his new sword, Tywin's squire hurriedly taking it away. 'Never to be seen again if I have my way,' Tywin thought angrily. He rose and quickly moved to stand next to Joffrey before he could reclaim his seat, placing a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder and giving it a squeeze until his grandson winced. He looked over and saw Jon comforting Tommen, who was clearly struggling with all that had happened, whispering something in his ear before the boy sucked back any tears and sat still with a stony look on his features.

After that the gift giving continued, Tywin never moving from his place at Joffrey's side. Other noble houses presented their gifts, from pavilions to shields to new horses. Olenna gave her granddaughter a beautiful necklace made of many long silver pieces that resembled icicles, so that 'they might be the only winter you suffer through… or whatever that rot the salesman told me was'. Finally Natasha was given her chance and she presented Joffrey with a silver scorpion broach from her father. Joffrey accepted all of these with barely a word, for when he did try to speak Tywin applied pressure to the boy's shoulder till he went silent.

Then it was at last Jon's turn.

"Your grace, Lady Margaery," Jon said with a low bow; perhaps a bit too low for his standing but he didn't do any annoying flourishes or the like so Tywin assumed it was merely the man making sure he gave Joffrey no reason to go off screeching like a brain-addled owl. "I bear gifts from all of Iron Pointe, so that they might be presented on this wonderful day." Several servants came forward with a large bundle of cloth. "I present to our future queen the banner that all loyal subjects will fight under." The fabric had been expertly stitches and showed the crowned stag of House Baratheon standing amongst a bed of roses, vines climbing stone pillars to reach great storm clouds that hung above the antlers of the beast.

"I thank you, Lord Jon, for this gift. It truly shows the blending of my king's house and my own."

Everyone nodded in agreement though Tywin saw Cersei's lips pucker; clearly she wished that it was the Lion of Lannister and not the Stag of Baratheon. He of course would have preferred that as well but he wouldn't say a word as Stannis' disgusting tales about her and Jaime meant that any sign that Joffrey truly was Robert's son were welcomed by Tywin and should have been welcomed by her.

"To his grace I present this weapon rack, designed to hold the swords of the kings you shall cast down." The wooden rack was heavy and took two men to bring in but Tywin nodded in approval when he saw the names of Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, and Eddard Stark under the arms that would hold their blades. "I do not know if Queen Jane of House Seaworth has a sword but Duncan, the man that made this, swore that whosever sword you do claim as her's he will properly transcribe below the blade. When the time is right."

Joffrey looked at the rack and clearly wished it was filled with swords but he didn't say a word.

"To the future queen I give this painting of Highgarden, done by an artist who once called it home. May you never forget where you came from."

"Thank you, Lord Jon, once more for this fine gift," Margaery said as the painting was presented. It was nearly 5 feet tall and was very detailed in showing off every inch of Highgarden from a low road.

Jon nodded before turning to Joffrey and pulling out a scroll. "And finally, my king, I present from Lord Antony Stark of Iron Pointe this writ of commission. When you choose to call upon him he will cease all other projects and come to help design a full set of armor for you. He will work with you to determine the design, the color, the motif-"

Joffrey wiggled free from Tywin's grasp. "Rather than give me a true gift you give me a promise? I should have you sent to the Black Cells for this insult! You show up here, eat my food, and give me nothing!?"

Jon though merely shook his head. "Lord Antony could have easily given you armor now, your grace. But you are still growing, are you not?" Joffrey blinked at that, his brow furrowing in confusion and his anger at once leaving him as he tried to understand why Jon had brought that up. "Your father, the late King Robert, towered over all men. Only the Mountain was larger than him. And you are your father's son! And all know that sons become mightier than their fathers." He turned to Mace Tyrell. "You are a skilled warrior, Lord Tyrell, but would you not agree that Ser Loras is your better?"

Mace puffed up at that and smiled. "I am humble enough to state that even with my skill on the battlefield Loras surpasses my great ability in every way."

"Sons surpass fathers. You will surpass your own father. Your reign will be far more remembered. And surely you will continue to grow till you make him resemble a child!" Jon gave a small shrug. "The armor made for you now would last only a year at most. Far better to wait till you are fully grown so that it might last you a lifetime."

Joffrey considered this before nodding. "You are right… I will surpass my father. And it would be a waste to give me armor that does not fit." He shot a dark look Tywin's way. "Just as that sword you gave me will outgrow my hand. It will look like a butter knife when I am fully grown. Perhaps though you will have time to get me a proper Valyrian Sword by the time that happens."

After that Joffrey called for an end to the meal, not even allowing Mace to present his gifts though the man was still rather pleased with Jon's compliments to him and thus didn't seem to mind. All hurried along but Tywin made sure to stop Jon before he and Natasha left.

"You handled my grandson well this morning. I was right to place you on the Small Council."

"Thank you, Lord Tywin. I am sorry that my gift made Joffrey frown upon yours."

"Frown? He sneered at it." Tywin didn't say it out loud but that would be the last thing his grandson ever got from him. He had already suffered through one king sneering at his offers he would not have it happen again and CERTAINLY not with his grandson!

Jon and Natasha left him and Olenna ambled up, leaning on a cane. "And to think this is only the first few hours of the festivities. I do so wonder what will be happening next to make this day remembered."

Later, Tywin would wonder if the old woman was a witch as some claimed.

For she had most certainly cursed them all.