The Westerlands – 266 A.C. / 1861 A.D.

Joanna found that Casterly Rock, despite the harsh shadow it cast, was always beautiful during the early days of spring.

The western coast seemed to come alive with the chirping of songbirds and the honking cry of gulls. From Lannisport below, the noise of city life seemed more fervent and fresher now that the harsh snows of winter had passed. For the people of the Westerlands, life began anew.

And yet despite the joy and relief felt throughout many in her holdings, Joanna Lannister could not help but feel as if she were under more pressure than ever before. As she sat in her chambers in Casterly Rock, perched high above the hustle and bustle of the city below, her mind could not help but drift to the swell in her stomach. Her baby-to-be had been quite active in the past month, always kicking in her womb and waking her up earlier than she would have liked. It tended to make her quite irate in the early morning hours, much to the concern of the staff and servants at the Rock. She was already quite strict enough as a ruling lady, but to think what her husband would do if he had found out about any discomfort that they had caused her, deserved even a modicum of her sympathy.

Such annoyances were to be expected however, given that her husband was busy serving as Hand of the King. And in his place, she was to take charge of the Rock as well as handle the affairs of the Westerlands.

It had been some time since she had heard from her Tywin. His last raven was sent a few months ago, before the start of the new year, from the Eyrie of all places. He had shared with her news of strange happenings near the Three Sisters. Foreign envoys in large, black ships wishing to have an audience with the king. Seeing as he was Aerys's Hand, it only made sense for her husband to assess the status of these foreigners.

But did that mad fool Aerys really have to send Tywin himself?

The difficulties of running the Rock seemed to pale in comparison to the worry she felt for her husband's safety. Had he been here, he would have said himself that she had nothing to concern herself about. And she knew that to be true. He was a veteran of the Stepstones and his actions at Castamere and Tarbeck Hall proved that he would not be outmatched by those lesser than him. Yet, a small treacherous part of her would always be concerned for him. Not that she would ever admit as such.

She was a Lannister, a proud lion of the West. And she would be damned to the Seven Hells before she so much as let an ounce of fear control her. Her house words would attest as such.

A knock on her solar door, rescued her from her fears. "Enter."

A servant arrived, with a message in hand. It bore the royal seal. "This just arrived, my lady."

Accepting the letter, she dismissed the servant and waited until he had left before breaking the seal and reading it. It was from Rhaella.

My dear friend,

It has been far too long since we had last spoken to each other. I had hoped to be able to visit in person in time for your child's birth, but circumstances here prevent me from doing as such. No doubt you have heard by now that your husband has been in negotiations with the foreigners that arrived last year. Tywin has invited a party of them to treat with my husband in King's Landing. They have graciously accepted the invitation and will be arriving in the fortnight.

I cannot deny that I am concerned about their arrival. Ever since we received the message of Tywin's invitation, Aerys has become ever more unpredictable. If the rumors coming from the North are true., then I worry about what this will mean for the kingdoms.

If all is to be well, then I will try to petition my husband to relieve yours of his duty so that he may be with you for your children's birth.

Yours faithfully,

Rhae

A smile crept onto her face as she finished the letter. Despite her disdain for the king, she had a fond friendship with the queen that stretched back to childhood. When her father had sent her to the Red Keep to serve as a lady for Princess Rhaella, she had found an unexpected kinship with her along with the heiress to Dorne. She remembered her father's praise when he had found out that she had forged close ties to not just one, but two princesses.

The honeyed days of freedom and frolic could not last. When Rhaella's marriage to Aerys was announced, she and Loreza had been so happy for her. But they knew of their friend's affections for another, a simple hedge knight from the Stormlands.

She recalled how Rhaella had wept silently on her shoulder that day. Little did they know that one day their roles would be reversed.

It was at Joanna's wedding that Aerys had attempted more than his fair share of liberties during the bedding ceremony. Her heart broke when she was given her dismissal from the court by Rhaella.

"Please, Rhae! I'm your friend!" She cried out in sorrow, her voice echoing through her chambers.

"I know, Joanna. That is precisely why I am doing this." Rhaella answered, with all the regality her title afforded. "You will not have to bear the brunt of Aerys's actions."

"Do you think that I was to blame for the rumors? The lies? For the king's wandering hands?"

"Be grateful, my friend, that it was only his hands that wandered." Rhaella bit back.

"You do. You blame me." Her heart felt heavy, and tears threatened to burst.

Before she could anticipate it, Rhaella had her in an embrace, causing Joanna's tears to pour out unabashed. Just this once, the Lioness would weep.

"I do not blame you, Joanna." Rhae whispered into her ear. "But I've seen this behavior in Aerys before. He has not tried to force himself on you yet, but he will if you stay."

Joanna leaned back from the embrace, her eyes widening at her friend's words.

"That is why you have to go."

"B- but I can't leave my husband… " She started.

"Lord Tywin will understand." Rhaella assured her. "If anything, he'll wholeheartedly approve. He loves you so much. You do not know how fortunate you are to have the love that you and he share."

Wiping her tears from her eyes, she took a breath and for the first time really considered what Rhaella was giving her: a chance to escape.

All at once, tears threatened to burst one more as she considered that while Joanna had been shamed by the scandal, it was Rhaella who suffered from it. She knew the poisonous words that flowed like rivers through the Red Keep. They will say that the queen could not keep her husband in check, could not provide him satisfaction in the bedroom, could not give him another child that wasn't doomed to die.

"I'm so sorry Rhae."

"You, of all people, have nothing to apologize for."

They embraced once more; two friends doomed to be apart by the tyranny of a mad man. The next day, she had packed her things and was ready to set out back to the Rock.

She remembered Tywin's parting kiss, how sweet it seemed and how loving his eyes were. She remembered Loreza's kind words and parting promises that she would visit her at Casterly Rock. She remembered Rhaella's grim visage from the window of her apartment's in Maegor's Holdfast.

It all felt like a strange dream to her now.

We were so young then, and so naïve.

Casting her mind back to the letter, she noted the subtext of concern that seemed to underly her friend's words. The invitation of these foreigners was by no means a small thing.

A merchant from White Harbor had arrived in Lannisport only the week before, and he spoke about foreigners in blue coats arriving in ships that spewed smoke and sailed on the sea as if they were wagons on paved roads. He told of how these strangers had arrived on an island, unknown to the Seven Kingdoms, and how the people of the Sisters had begun speculating that these men were sent here by the gods.

She initially brushed off the stories as nothing more than exaggerated nonsense; tall tales from sailors who had little to do whilst they traveled between ports. But then, more rumors started flooding in from the East, how the Lord of Winterfell was hosted by them, how he had invited Lord Arryn of the Vale to serve as witness to the existence of an uncharted island in the Bite. And then a raven from her husband, on behalf of Lady Rowena Arryn, speaking of how Lord Tywin Lannister was invited to the Eyrie to treat with these newfound peoples.

It all sounded like old wives' tales about the Age of Heroes, or flowery songs about the glory of Aegon's Conquest. Whether the stories about these people's wonders were true or not, the fact remained that a foreign people had arrived on the shores of Westeros. And they seemed determined to cultivate some form of relationship with the realm.

Joanna worried what this would mean for her family, but a part of her could not help but be intrigued as well.

She knew that the stories about these foreigners had been consistent in their details. If these people truly possessed such wonders, then perhaps they could be used to the benefit of the Lannister cause. But she knew that to take such a course of action could just as well be the Lannisters' doom.

More information was needed, more knowledge pried from those who had encountered these people.

The movement in her stomach caught her attention, as she saw her baby kicking inside of her. She smiled at the slight movements. Her baby would be an energetic sort. A son, strong and willful, to inherit the legacy she and her husband had built. Or a daughter, beautiful and elegant with a mind as quick as her own, who would be the envy of the kingdoms.

Oh, my little cub. If only your father could be here to hear your roar.

It was during his stay at Gulltown, that Tywin Lannister decided that the Americans were a strange people.

The meeting with Jon Arryn had gone as well as he had expected, and while he was initially skeptical on the intentions of these foreigners, they had proved to be genuine in their desire to foster relations with the realm. Still, he had remained apprehensive by the Lord of the Vale's unsettled words.

"I would advise, my lord, not to antagonize these people. They hide their motives in plain sight."

He had initially scoffed at the Valeman's words of warning, but he took his message to heart when he was greeted at the port of Gulltown by a massive ship of war. It was painted black, darker than the royal colors, and seemed to loom over the other ships at the port. Jutting out from its sides were two wheels that seemed to be responsible for providing movement to the vessel. He had asked Lord Grafton's maester how such a thing could be possible, and whilst he failed to provide an answer, had reasonably deduced that it was connected to the strange metal chimney spewing black smoke.

A gangplank was lowered, and down strode a group of men that appeared to be dressed in a uniformly ostentatious manner. He was sure that he had not seen the color blue in so many times as he did that day. The leader, a middle-aged man with a queer black hat folded and adorned with feathers, introduced himself as Commodore Frederick Sullivan.

Tywin noted that whilst he appeared no less intelligent than that fat flower from the Reach, a trained eye could see that it was a front, hiding any true sense of character.

So, this is what Lord Arryn has been quivering about.

Americans they were called, according to Lord Arryn, and they had apparently arrived through the most disconcerting circumstances. The Commodore had explained how they were from a realm that they called the 'United States' and how a strange island appeared in one of their bays, an island with a mountainous cavern on its eastern shore that appeared to flow into the Bite. He went on to describe how local merchants had described the strange nature of the cavern, specifically the words they used.

"Another world."

It was difficult enough for these foreigners, these Americans, to believe but it was damned near impossible for Tywin. And yet, there seemed to be some credence to their words. Lord Arryn professed being of a similar mind to him, until Lord Stark invited him north where he was hosted by these people.

The negotiations that followed went without incident, but there were certain details that seemed to emphasize a difference between the two parties. The first clear indication was the language. When it came to the spoken word, their was little difference between their tongue and the Common Tongue. But when he was asked to look over documents that they had wanted the king to sign, there were noticeable differences in their written script.

A whole series of quirks in their mannerisms seemed to pour out of them from that point onward. From the way the laughed, to their casual tone, to their liberal usage of swearing, and the strange dried leaves that they would smoke in their pipes, all seemed to point Tywin to an interesting conclusion: They were not nobility.

He expected as much from the officers, but the Commodore, despite his poise and manners, was not of noble blood as well.

From a ruling family perhaps?

He decided that he would need more information.

A feast held at Lord Marq Grafton's manse in honor of the foreign guest, proved the perfect opportunity to test the nature of these Americans.

Music and feasting were plentiful as Lord Grafton seemed keen to impress his status to the Americans. The hall was filled with knights and bannermen from all over the Vale, and at the high table sat the Commodore along with most of his officers. He noted with curiosity how in awe they seemed to be with the affair, much to Grafton's pleasure.

They engaged with guests liberally, both highborn and lowborn. He spotted the captain of the black ship, a stout man called Erinmore, engage in conversation with one of Lord Arryn's stewards. Tywin also noted, with interest, that they did not drink as much as the other guests. Even he had managed to drink a second cup of wine, and yet none of the other Americans seemed to finish their first cups.

So, they've proven they can exercise restraint.

"You look surprised Commodore," Tywin began, "Do you not have feasts such as this in your land?"

"I must admit we do not, Lord Tywin." He answered, gazing at the festivities around him. "But my surprise comes from the extent of generosity you've shown in hosting us."

"We are a most generous people, especially to those newcomers to our shores." Lord Grafton interrupted, drawing a small glare from Tywin.

"Indeed." Sullivan nodded. "The so-called genteel folk down in Dixie could learn a thing or two from you fine gentlemen."

"Dixie?" Tywin questioned.

"Ah, yes. Dixie." Sullivan said with a derisive grin. "It's a nickname we have for the South, our South."

"Oh? You don't seem to hold your Southerners to a high standard."

"Would that I dared to hold those men of esteem to such a regard."

"May I ask why?" Tywin asked, his brow raised in curiosity.

Sullivan sighed at his question, and the retinue of naval officers around him appeared to grow nervous at the Young Lion's line of inquiry. The question seemed to garner the attention of the other lords at the high table, some of them turning to face the Americans. A few of the wretches down on the lower tables seemed to have heard as well given that their bombastic conversation managed to lower in volume significantly.

"Before I answer your question, Lord Tywin, I must ask," the Commodore took a pause before tentatively resuming, "what is the view of the Seven Kingdoms regarding slavery?"

Now of all the questions, Tywin Lannister expected he'd be confronted with, that was certainly not one of them.

"Slavery?" He hummed in feigned apprehension. "Slavery is described as heretical and immoral in our religion; thus, it is illegal throughout the Seven Kingdoms."

"Is slavery legal in your realm?" Lord Arryn asked with concern.

"The answer to that is rather… complex." Sullivan started tentatively. "But the short of it is that it is not outlawed."

Most of the lords at the high table managed a brief look of discomfort, before settling down. He almost rolled his eyes at the pettiness of some of the Valemen. After all, with their proximity to the Narrow Sea, it was not as if they hadn't dealt and dined with slavers before. He could recall spotting one or two merchant captains from the Free Cities dining with some of the other guests in the hall.

They feign sanctimonious offense just to gain an air of superiority over these foreigners.

He would've given it no mind, but the uncomfortable looks among the American officers told of a deeper story. They seemed almost divided on the issue, some lightly shaking their heads at the Commodore's words and others nodding in grim silence. He decided to press the point further.

"Why do you say it is complex?" Tywin asked directly.

"It is complex because of the unique nature of our form of government." Sullivan started. "Simply put, we do not have kings nor queens nor any positions of royal or noble authority."

Now that statement proved to be a genuine shock to the gathered lords. Even Tywin had to admit that it was an admission he did not foresee.

"As the name implies, the United States is made up of multiple states that have their own governments, elected by the people, who oversee the affairs within their own state. Leading this union of states is the federal government, which is also elected by the people, whose job it is to oversee all matters regarding the whole union. Not too dissimilar from your kingdom, as you can see." He started calmly, his words precise and calculating. "Now, our country was founded on the principle of personal liberties, the right to freedom of speech, religion, and so-on. This includes the right to own property."

Tywin's brow crooked slightly, understanding the implied meaning.

Property, such as slaves.

The Commodore continued, "Since the federal government cannot interfere in the rights to personal property, the matter of the legality of slavery is left up to the individual states. Those states in the southern half of our country have elected to make slavery legal, while those in the north have made it illegal. Thus, is the current state of affairs in our country."

All those sitting in the high table had expressions of shock and curiosity at the Commodore's description. It was almost unheard of in the known world for there to be so great a divide within a realm as the one described. Even the Seven Kingdoms, which had to contest with the differences between those above the Neck and below, were not so divided on any issue as the United States seemed to be on slavery.

Tywin sat still, a polite smile plastered on his face, as he pondered the implications of what the Commodore had said.

So, it would appear that these "United States of America" are not as united as they so adamantly claim to be.

Save for that tense moment, the feast continued without much incident. Whilst Tywin would have preferred to press the Commodore further, Lord Arryn decided to move on to another topic to ease the mood of their guests. Tywin agreed as such, despite his desire to know more. There would be other opportunities to gather information of these Americans.

After working for nearly two months with the maester to translate and transcribe the documents the Americans had drawn up, he sent a message back to King's Landing explaining the presence of these foreigners and how they desired to meet with the king.

As they waited for a confirmation from Aerys, Tywin considered all he had learned about the Americans in their time at Gulltown.

He recalled at their welcome feast that they claimed to have no royalty or nobility and that all of their leaders were chosen by and amongst their population. He scoffed just thinking about the concept. An entire realm governed by the whims of smallfolk was a notion that seemed impossible, let alone impracticable.

They make the art of governance into nothing more than a popularity contest.

He briefly reconsidered the foolishness of the notion. After all, Volantis's triarchs were chosen by the same process, so perhaps the Americans had managed to work out a way for this queer system of governance to function by their standards. But that notion was swiftly quashed during the cartography exchange.

They had offered to show Lord Tywin a full map of their nation and where the mysterious island they had sailed through was located on it, in exchange for a map of Westeros. As soon as he set his eyes on their country's map, he immediately thought them the utmost fools for allowing themselves to be governed by their smallfolk. America, as it turned out, was the size of nearly all of the southern kingdoms and was large enough to possibly challenge the North in size.

How these people have not yet descended into chaos is beyond comprehension.

Further adding to his concern was the powerful nature of the weapons they wielded. After hearing the tale of Lord Stark's rescue, Tywin had asked the Commodore if he would be willing to organize a demonstration of their weapons. With a mischievous smirk, he politely accepted with the added condition that he only do so for him and Lord Arryn. While a strange request, he accepted.

They met at the archery range of Lord Grafton's training grounds, just outside the city. He suspected it was for the sake of privacy, but he could not be sure. He had a small number of guards accompany him, but they were still outnumbered by the Americans. They had set up a set of targets at the end of the range, as well as some straw-and-wooden dummies. A group of bluecoated soldiers that they called 'marines' had formed up in a line. Each had one of the supposed smoke-and-powder staves that they were rumored to have. The captain of the marines then barked out a series of orders.

"Stand ready!... Take aim!..."

The soldiers held up their staves, aiming them like crossbows.

"… Fire!"

*BANG*

Fifteen loud flashes of light spewed out of the end of their staves, each managing to penetrate the target nearly 50 yards away.

"Reload!"

Immediately, each soldier began to reload their weapon. It would appear that the cause of the damage to the archery targets was a lead projectile that came encased in a paper wrapping. He noted with interest how each marine would load a measure of black powder into the stave before loading the projectile.

Ingenious. But I wonder, what causes the spark that ignites the powder?

After a few minutes of sustained fire, a group of sailors brought forward a large bronze tube attached to a carriage. He noted the strange double cylinder they had loaded into it. Tywin was prepared to be further impressed, but nothing in his experience could comprehend what he was about to see that day.

A man with an oddly shaped pin with a length of cord inserted in it stepped forward. He placed the pin in hole at the base of the bronze. After a few moments spent checking their aim, the captain held out his hand and gave the order.

"FIRE!"

*BOOM*

A flash of smoke shot out and in the blink of an eye all of the straw dummies had been eviscerated, whisps of straw being the only proof that they had once stood.

Lord Arryn had seemed horrified, despite his admission that he had seen, at least the smoke-and-powder staves, before. The Commodore, as well as the ship's captain looked perfectly nonplussed, despite the air of confidence and superiority he felt emanating from their martial poise.

They wanted us to see this.

They wanted me to see this.

It was a bitter draught to swallow, but he could not help but admit but be thoroughly impressed by the weapons these Americans wielded. Such arms would be formidable for any kingdom to own, let alone these up-jumped smallfolk. But he could not let his curiosity get the better of him. While he was confident that these people did not mean to attack them now, he could not guarantee their intentions for the future. A dialogue had just been opened between their nation and his, and where that went still remained to be seen.

His thoughts stirred and stewed, as he sat in his rooms at Lord Grafton's manse. It was as he was contemplating the weapons demonstration that one of his messengers entered with news. A raven from King's Landing had just arrived with a simple message from Aerys.

You may bring these foreigners to the capitol.

Signed,

King Aerys II

Whispers and rumors seemed to be the life blood of the citizens of Lannisport.

As they went about their daily routine, her ears amongst the townsfolk had picked up more fanciful tales about the arrival of the men in blue. By now she was sure that the stories had spread throughout the kingdoms. Joanna was curious but elected not to believe anything until she received confirmation from King's Landing. It had been a month and a half since she had received the letter from Rhaella, and still received no news on the goings on in the capitol.

In addition, according to Maester Creylen, the baby would be arriving quite soon. The predicted date of birth was within two weeks, but that was barring any unexpected surprises.

For now, she was healthy.

Looking back at the message on her desk, her heart seemed ready to burst just recalling yesterday's events.

"My lady." A voice from her door called, waking her up from her midday nap.

Suppressing an angered groan, she called out. "Enter."

One of Maester Creylen's assistants, Darran – or so she assumed – walked in with a nervous expression. "M-my lady, a raven has just arrived from King's Landing." He stuck out his hand and gave her the message. "Lord Tywin is currently on his way back to Casterly Rock."

The assistant's words expelled any ounce of weariness, as she took the message.

"Are you sure?" She asked, as she started to read her husband's words.

Jo,

Have received leave from the king. As we speak, I am riding back to you. I promise you, I will be there for the birth of our child.

Yours forevermore,

Tywin

"I'm sure my lady." The assistant answered. "A raven from the capitol to the Rock takes four days to fly, so that means Lord Tywin should be here by nightfall or tomorrow morn at the latest."

Joanna looked up at the assistant, only no older than ten-and-seven by her estimations. So young, and so eager to please. With a calming breath, and a composed expression not betraying the steel nerve she so keenly possessed, she addressed the boy, "Thank you for service… Darran?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Tell me, how long have you been apprenticing for Creylen?"

"Nearly four years, my lady."

She hummed in approval as she considered for a moment.

"You are dismissed." She waived him away before calling out once more. "And tell Maester Creylen that I should like to meet him tonight. I would like to discuss with him your enrollment to the Citadel."

She did not miss the shocked look nor the bright, wide-eyed smile that formed on the young man's face.

"Y-Yes, my lady."

Looking down once more at the message in her hand, she felt as if a great weight had been released from her shoulders. Ever since the start of her pregnancy, she had worried that Tywin would not be there to share in the joy of their newborn child. But here, in her hands, lay tangible proof that she would not go through such a pain alone.

Joanna's heart raced as the memory faded, and immediately she felt foolish for behaving like such a blushing maiden. But she was not a maiden, she reminded herself. She was woman grown, with a new babe waiting to be born.

As she turned back to the work that was spread out before hershe had more appreciation for the patience her husband had in running the household. By no means did she consider herself as imposing on her servants and bannermen, but she could not help but decry the inefficiency and laziness displayed by some of them.

If she were her husband, all she need do was display an irate expression and a slight growl, and they would have fulfilled her orders without question. The fact that she was a woman – and a pregnant one, at that – meant that she had to exert a sterner front, make more explicit threats, and give more detailed orders.

Maester Creylen had cautioned her not to exert herself too much during the later stages of her pregnancy and had cautioned her against walking too much in the weeks leading up to her birth. Initially she had refused, claiming that she was strong enough to use her own two legs, just fine. But with the continued protests of some of her ladies-in-waiting, had pestered her sufficiently into compromising. And so, she had consented to letting her other family members carry forth the strict discipline of her family name. Cousin Kevan always managed to toe the line between honeyed praises and whispered threats, and Cousin Genna's boisterous attitude always found a way to endear the other lords.

It was a point of contention for her, though. She could hear the whispers of some of the visiting ladies or petulant knights who would dare to think her ire no less than the 'ill humors of a woman with child'.

Her only grasp to sanity was the words her husband had spoken to her before she left the keep.

"Do not worry, my dear. Be strong. And remember, a lion need not concern itself with the opinions of the sheep."

Joanna had taken his words to heart.

As the cool ocean breezes of the Sunset Sea blew through her room, she felt a sense of accomplishment for what she had done. She had overseen her family's ancestral keep through the winter, and she had proven herself as a Lady of the Rock. A swell of pride rushed over her, a small smile gracing her features.

Her mind returning to her work, she rifled through the myriad papers and ledgers on her desk. She had finally received the tariffs on House Pipers' monthly income, and she noted with interest how short some of their returns had decreased over the last three months.

Ringing a bell on her desk, a servant entered the room. "Send for Maester Creylen and tell him to bring the tariff ledgers over the six months for Pinkmaide – "

A strange pain in her lower half stopped her mid-sentence as she placed one hand on her stomach and the other clutching the desk.

"My lady, are you alright?"

A part of her wanted to scream. For gods' sake man, do I look alright?!

What came out of her mouth instead was a rough, "Aaggghhhh!"

Her cry of pain seemed to be enough for the servant who promptly responded, "I'll go fetch Maester Creylen!"

His footsteps echoed his urgent pace as he ran to fetch the Maester. Fucking took him long enough!

Soon, Maester Creylen, his assistant Darran, and two midwives Becca and Olive entered her solar. A few diagnostic questions from Creylen was all it took to confirm what she knew deep down: her baby was coming. Bidding her to her room to prepare for the birthing, she was greeted with a flurry of commotion as the midwives began prepping the room, whilst the maester ordered her ladies to remove the dress she was wearing and leave only her smallclothes as he and his assistant washed their hands.

As she sat on the feather bed, her eyes tearing up at the pain, she could not help but be surprised that she was not as scared as she thought she would be. Maester Creylen had talked to her what to expect during a pregnancy, and fleeting images from her youth of her mother giving birth to bumbling Steffon dotted her mind.

She would not be afraid.

The pain was excruciating, each contraction inducing a sensation that felt like she was ripping apart only to be assembled again. Her ladies, at this stage, had decided to wait outside for propriety's sake whilst the midwives were busy aiding Maester Creylen in ensuring her health and progress.

"Aaaggghhh! Gods above! Fuck!"

Another contraction wracked through her, bringing only more pain.

Gods, this agony!

Her breaths slowly started becoming more measured. Maester Creylen would check on her dilation after every contraction, with the aid of one of the midwives.

After each contraction, she would cry out in pain, "Now?!"

And every time they would reply, "Not yet!"

The whole agonizing process would start over from there, the only difference being her screams would increase in her volume and her profanity more extreme.

"Aaggghhhh!" She screamed.

"You're doing very well, my lady!" The midwife would say.

"Fucking Others fucking take me!" She cursed.

"Progressing very well." Maester Creylen would reassure.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! I WANT THIS FUCKING THING OUT!" She howled.

"Not yet, my lady!" They would both answer with panicked voices.

"AAAGGGGGHHHHHH!"

Joanna would have considered the whole thing comical, from the midwives tending to her health, to the maester with his finger in the most intimate part of her sex, to the blushing assistant Darran aiding in the process as he looked on in horror. But the shock waves of pain that wracked her body made it hard to laugh at the situation.

The late afternoon sun soon gave way to the darkness of night. Darran had lit several candles in the room, which had the side effect of making it unbearably hot for her. The contractions by now had become more intense and more frequent.

How much longer?!

"You're almost there, my lady." Maester Creylen answered, as he and one of the midwives were now both measuring the dilation of her womb with their fingers.

"AAGGHHH! My husband! Where is my husband?!"

"He's not here yet, my lady. But I'm sure he'll – "

"Now! I need him here, now!" She couldn't tell if the wetness she felt on her face was tears or sweat. Despite the pain, Joanna was not afraid, but that still did not stop her from crying out for her husband.

Where are you Tywin? I need you here. Please, for our child… for me.

"Darran, go and ask if Lord Tywin's party has been spotted yet!"

"Yes, Maester."

But before the assistant could leave, the door burst open. In a moment that, to her eyes, seemed almost like a blessing from the Maiden, Tywin Lannister entered the room. Still clad in his mahogany riding leathers, she could still see the dust of the road caked on the sweat of his brow.

"Tywi – agghhhh!" Another contraction.

"Jo!" He rushed forward but was stopped by Midwife Olive.

"My lord!" She addressed him curtly. "You must clean yourself before you go near your wife."

Not wasting another moment, he went to the pitcher of water and washed himself clean from the dirt and grime of the Goldroad. Having patted himself dry, he approached Joanna and took hold of her hand.

"Tywin." She gave out a labored breath. "You're here."

"I did promise you, didn't I?" His usual sternness failing to match his tender words. "You're doing very well, my love."

"It… it hurts…" She cried, her vicelike grip drawing blood from her husband's hand.

"I know my love, but you must be strong." Her husband's pitiful attempts at reassurance only added to her frustration. "Maester, for heavens' sake, is she ready?"

Calmly ignoring the unspoken threat in their liege lord's question, Maester Creylen and Midwife Becca took another measurement. She saw their eyes widen, as they responded. "Four inches! Now's the time, my lady!"

Finally!

"Push!"

Joanna took a few calming breaths before giving out a great shout.

"Very good, my lady." Midwife Becca called out.

She noted the worry behind her husband's gaze as she took another deep breath and gave out another yell.

"I can see the head!" Maester Creylen shouted.

Joanna felt as if her howls could be heard as far north as the Wall and as far east as Yi-Ti.

By the Gods, Old and New!

"Take another breath, and push!"

"Push!"

Joanna howled out once more in agony. Her legs were shaking, and her core felt as if it was being torn in two.

"That's the shoulders. Very good, my lady."

"One more push ought to do it."

"Almost there, my love. One more push."

Oh, Tywin. I love you, but this is one battlefield where you are fucking useless!

Taking another breath, she steeled herself for one final effort.

"And push!"

"It's coming!"

"Almost there!"

The voice of everyone else in the room, seem to blur into one. She could only hear Tywin's voice from that point on, offering words of assuredness and comfort. A cry echoes in the room, but not her own. The wails of her child mix together with hers as she pushes, and breathes, and pushes again until…

"Oh, milady!" Becca cheered. "Congratulations!"

"My lord, my lady, you have a son." Maester Creylen announced, a small bloody shape in his hands.

Tywin looked at her with glee in his eyes. Joanna melted under his gaze, relief and exhaustion mixing in with her love.

A son! A young cub for my Tywin!

But her thoughts were interrupted as another wave of pain coursed through her. Another agonizing howl bellowed out of her.

"My lady, it appears you will have to push again." Maester Creylen announced, having passed the newborn child off to one of the other midwives.

"Again?!"

"Yes, my lady!" He shouted back. "For the other child!"

Looking up in shock at Tywin, she remained at a loss for words. Her husband seemed to be of a similar disposition, as his mouth was now agape, his worry now returning in full measure.

Another child?

With one last breath, she screamed out in pain as she pushed once more.

Tywin could not help but smile fondly as he stared at his wife feeding their newborn daughter. In his hands, he carried his son. Their son. A son and a daughter. Two young lions to grace the noble Lannister family. A sense of pride coursed through his veins as he held the babe.

Initially he and Joanna were indecisive as to what to name their child. During one of his many visits to the Rock after the news of her pregnancy was announced, she had asked him what they should name their child. After much back and forth debate, they had settled on Jaime for a boy, and Cersei if a girl.

The gods must have been feeling generous that day, as he was granted with twins. A small part of him, upon the realization that another child was coming after the first had been born, wished that it were another son. After all, two stout and golden Lannister cubs to spread the family's power and influence would have certainly been more beneficial to the family.

But upon seeing his wife's doting smile as she held little Cersei, he regretted ever having those thoughts.

Our children are here, Joanna is happy and alive. That's all that matters.

"He has your eyes." Joanna smirked at him, as he turned to look down at their son. "And your severe gaze."

He could see that his son was silent, not making too much of a fuss, and his face retaining an intimidating look – or at least, as intimidating a newborn babe could muster.

"I should hope so." He answered. "He will be Lord of the Rock one day, and Warden of the West."

"Tywin," She softly complained, "do you have to talk about politics now? I only just gave birth last night."

"It's not politics that I speak of." He replied, softly. "It's family."

"When have those two things ever differed for you, Tywin?"

Tywin looked up at her, brow crooked, and ready to counter her point. But he quickly realized that she was right. Ever since he had become a man grown, he had held his family and their position in the world in the same regard. He cared about House Lannister, and he cared about House Lannister's power in equal measure. It had always been that way, and he was sure it always would be.

"Oh, stop pouting." She commanded, just as she had finished feeding their daughter. "This is a time for joy, not your grim consternations nor your political ambitions."

Obeying his wife's command, he nodded. Leaning forward he pressed a soft and grateful kiss to her lips. Grateful to the gods that she was alive, and to her for bringing their children to this world.

A knock on the door disrupted the intimacy of the moment, much to his wife's displeasure.

"Enter."

A servant entered the room, huffing and out of breath. "My lord… a- a raven from King's Landing." He extended his hand with a message in hand.

Passing the babe to one of the midwives, he took the message, waiving he servant off. Opening the letter, he immediately recognized the scribbled penmanship of Grand Maester Pycelle. As he read through it, he became more and more disconcerted.

"Tywin, what is it?" Joanna asked softly, her concern evident.

He did not answer her question, as he continued to read the last lines of the letter that Pycelle had sent.

This is most disturbing, but whether or not this spells trouble for us, I cannot say for certain.

"Tywin?"

He turned to his wife and gave a soft reassuring smile. "Joanna, it would appear that our guests at the capitol had to leave early."

"Is that all?"

"To be honest, I cannot say for certain." He sighed, as he stepped forward and handed her the letter. "But I'm sure that the king isn't pleased."

Most gracious Lord Tywin,

After your departure, a messenger from the North had arrived for the Americans. It is unsure exactly what has occurred, but my sources tell me that a rebellion has broken out in their realm. The Americans are in turmoil and have petitioned the king to take their leave. The king is furious at this turn of events but has permitted them to return to their world. I shall write further should I come into possession of any news.

Your servant,

P

So, the barbaric upstarts have fallen into civil war…

It appears I was right after all.

"There are but two parties now: traitors and patriots."

I do hope I did the Old Lion justice in this chapter. And Joanna Lannister is absolutely one of my favorites to write.

Next up, the Iron Islands...