The ward of Casterly Rock

by Kalendeer

I was ten when I moved to Casterly Rock, following my liege. In my eyes he was the picture of knightly perfection. Then I grew up, and nothing changed.

5. Chapter 4 : Bonds forged in blood

I'd like to thank my new followers : kyla-b, lucife56, wnight, MrsNonCanonPairings, LArunner and LectriceDeChoc.

Special thanks to Baloo18, StarkLannister and 2L d'R for their kind reviews.

Chapter 4: Bonds forged in blood

I avoided Tywin for the week following Tyssel's departure and he did not try to see me. Another knight guarded me while I hunted with Greywings. I spent my time outdoors with my bird or buried in books. Shipbuilding, trade and the history the free cities occupied most of my afternoons. I wished nothing more than to finally leave for Fairkeep. Once there, I would be married to Gerion but the one to lead, free from Tywin at least.

After a few weeks, the Rock fell victim to some vicious storms descending from the Iron Islands. For days the sky was at best a gray mantle that hid the sun and, when the weather gave us its worse, torrential rains turned all but the main street of Lannisport into rivers of mud.

Joris shared with me Tywin's concern for harvest. From our windows, we could see the steady flooding of the nearby villages, quickly followed my whole families moving to the city. Tywin opened its gates since the Rock was well above the level of water. Soon enough all yards, the great hall and many other rooms were crowded with people. I was ordered by Kevan to deal with some of the food distributions. He and his brothers mainly took care of the difficult task of keeping order: despite Tywin's orders, a lot of poor people came in without any food, and Tywin refused to empty his granaries. So the food distributions were just enough to keep people alive and I saw children and wives suffering of hunger. I knew Tywin's motive weren't crualty: he couldn't know how long these people would be here and if the harvest was to be lost, he would need stocks for the next few months as well; but since he wasn't making any reassuring appearance to explain himself, it was hard to keep starving parents from anger.

Finally the wind and rain abated. The refugees left Casterly Rock toward their damp villages under a burning sun. I got a gruffy Greywings out of the falconry and set for a long day. The bird showed impressive stamina, obviously happy to spread he wings again. As for I, I was bathing in sun and fresh air after days of dakness, dampness, and the long lasting smell of sweat, piss and shit. I finally got back very late, the muddy roads slowing our process. I was half expecting a talk down from Tywin who would, perhaps, believe I had ran away, but none came and I made my way to my room, covered in mud, my hair a sorry mess, exhausted but in quite a good mood.

I was taking a warm bath before going to sleep when my maid and I heard a weird sound by the window. Amelle investigated since the sound would not disappeared, then explained with an astonished face that Ser Gerion was currently throwing rocks on my chambers.

I wrapped myself in a thick night gown and opened the shutter. Indeed, Gerion was standing in the middle on one of the small gardens running against the walls. I narrowed my eyes. He had been banned from Casterly Rock by Tywin. What was he doing there? And how did he manage to get in?

"Esteill, I need you to get me past the guards to Tywin's chambers. It's important and these fools won't let me in!"

"Why don't you try during the day?" I was ready to close my window. If he was planning to use me to get to his brother with pleas and whimpers, he was deadly wrong. Furthermore, that meant I would have to speak to Lord Tywin.

"I need him now," Gerion urged. His voice sounded strained. "Please, Esteill. I know I wronged you, but you've never been mean before."

"He doesn't want to see you!" And neither did I. "What do you want anyway?"

"I'll explain, but not here. Please, it's a matter of life and death."

"Right. I'll come down." I did not believe him the slightest, but perhaps he would manage to annoy Tywin enough to spoil his whole night. A small revenge it would be for Tyssel's departure. "I'll find you by the small door."

I took the time to slip on a mantel and shoes. Amelle in toes, I set for the small door, a stone arch which separated the upper keep and the dungeon from the lower keep. There I found Gerion near his horse. The guards had refused to open the iron gates.

"How did you even get there?" I asked through the bars. Gerion, white faced, answered that he had bribed the guards of the lower gates. "What do you want?"

"I need to see my brother."

"What did you do again? Did Kevan throw you out?"

"No, I did nothing... well yes, he did throw me out, but this has nothing to do with the present matter."

Well, that was new. Last I heard, Kevan was complaining that his brother kept insulting Tywin in his presence and that he wouldn't bear such a behavior for long, but Gerion was still living with him.

"I'm not sticking my head out for you if I don't know..."

"Look, Tywin's my oldest brother, he's the closest person I ever had to a father, and I need him now," Gerion said, frantic. "I don't have to explain anything to you, alright? I have no one else!"

Something in his eyes worried me. I remembered Gerion as the youthful man with a lot of morgue, always angry at Tywin, always ready to leave, even if he never did. In the eyes of the man in front of me, I could only read fear.

"Fine. Let him in," I ordered to the guards. They did so with reluctance. When Gerion had them prepare Tywin's horse, they seemed ready to rebel.

"You will do as I say," Gerion said. His voice suddenly reminded me of Tywin's, sharp as steel, hard as ice. "Or once I will have talked to my brother, I'll personally chop off your heads."

After that, they did as they were told.

The guards at Tywin's door were less easy to sway, but Gerion ignored them anyway and forcefully beat the heavy door, banging his hand on the dark wood until the Lord of Casterly Rock finally opened. He wore only a long linen shirt, half opened at the neck and that revealed his legs up to the middle of his tights. I was kind of surprised since they were heavily covered with yellowish hairs, since I had already seen both Tygett and Gerion shirtless (mostly due to their drinking habits), and both had been rather hairless.

Gerion quickly passed the guard and whispered to his brother hear, leaving him no time to order his guards to throw him out. It was probably genially important since Tywin's sleepy expression tensed into awareness. A few words were exchanged, too low for me to catch them.

"Get my horse ready while I get dressed."

"Already done."

"Then you'll wait in front of Esteill's room while she dresses. I'll be there in a minute."

Gerion's brows shot up. "Why?"

"Why not?"

I dressed as quickly as possible, not really caring about what I was doing. Something important was happening, else Tywin would have rebuked his brother. I got out only to see Tywin coming toward us, his hands still moving on his belt. His face was partly hidden under his brown, anonymous wool cloak.

We made our way to the yard. There were only two horses for three, but as soon as he was seated in his own saddle, Tywin extended an arm so I could mount behind him. He expected his big courser to bear my light weight without flinching, and indeed he did. Gerion kicked his own horse to a slow gallop, through the small and lower gates, the high districts of Lannisport, until we reached a poorer one. Crafters lived there, blacksmiths and woolers, carpenters and merchants; though it was hardly the poorest neighbourough, it was no place for a Lannister to live. Gerion led us to a relatively small mansion with a closed yard. I could feel the sneer in Tywin's voice when he asked why his brother was leaving here.

"Kevan kicked me out."

"Kevan would have allowed you and the girl into his home for tonight," Tywin answered wryly. "Don't dismount. Do you know the street of the Red Throat?"

"I do."

"Go there and find Jon Barber. His sigil would be a blooded knife above a wounded lion. Tell him -and him alone- I sent you."

Gerion nodded and left. We tied our horse. I saw Tywin take a few long, slow breaths before he stepped into the house.

We entered a room which must have been a dining hall. It was big by the folk's standards, yet no as much as my own bedroom in Casterly Rock. A back door was opened and there stood a tall, thin woman, hallowed in the warm light of dozen of candles. Tywin strode resolutely toward her; she moved to let him in the small bedroom. I was startled by how the kitchen wench had changed. Her belly had grown huge, her red hair stuck to her brow and her face shone with sweat. Her bare legs were lazily spread as she laid on the bed. Blood had stained the white, clean sheets and a long nightgown, pulled over her hips. She seemed to be asleep.

"How long?"

"Twelve hours, m'lord. But this, it's the third time she's passed out," the wise woman answered. She shook her head. "Hips are too narrow. When she pushes, only blood com'out. The baby may be dead already.

"We'll move her to the other room. Esteill, clear out the table."

I did as told. Tywin commanded me to put more wood in the fire, find Gerion's wine and warm it, and boil some water. He spread new, clean sheets of the table as I worked. Finally Gerion got back with an old man with a huge, ugly nose which may have been broken at least twice. He was limping from his left leg and missed a finger on his right hand.

"We're the girl?" Jon Barber asked, but he went directly to the bedroom, without waiting for any answer. "What d'you want me for?"

"We'll have to cut her and get the baby out," Tywin declared, to my surprise, with an almost shaky voice. Gerion gasped. "If we don't both are going to die. You know I'm right. Ask the woman."

She nodded slowly.

"I can't do anything more for her. M'lord is right, though I could have made the cut myself."

"No," Tywin answered with the utmost determination. "We'll need you to take care of the baby while Jon sews her."

"You hope 'am going to stitch her like your boys in Cast'mere ? I told you young'lord, the east's no good to you and what silly idea did you get in King's Landing again?"

"They do it in Braavos..."

"Braavos!"

"And Pentos. It works sometimes. I'll pay."

"You could give me shit, I'd still try if you say it can do some good." He focused on the girl. Her eyes were half open now and her lips moved slightly, begging for some water. The woman indulged her while Jon, now obviously in charge and not caring at all about ranks, gave his own orders.

His eyes flew to Gerion, whose skin was starting to look greenish. Dismissing him, Jon went to me.

"Does this one knows anything about surgery?"

"I don't."

"Wash your hands with the wine. In my bag you'll get needles and thread in a pouch. You'll prepare these and give me all instruments I'll ask for. You, show me your hands," he said to Tywin. He grabbed them harshly, turned them as he praised the clean cut of the nails. "Short and clean. That would do. Does anyone has a scarf? Yes, perfect. Tie this on your hair and mouth, then wash your hands twice."

As he spoke, he put on a leather apron and a scarf on his own head. In any other instance Tywin would have looked ridiculous, with my blue scarf wrapped around his brow, but there was an atmosphere of dead seriousness. Jon's authority seemed to get everyone moving, and the wise woman looked like she could read into his mind. She and Gerion undressed the girl and carried her to the table.

I turned my back on them and tried to direct all my attention to my work, but I heard the girl whimper, the wise woman or Jon's orders. My hands trembled; I felt drowned in a nightmare. Gerion left when Jon cut the skin. I heard the woman say that the baby didn't breathe, and that something was missing from the placenta. She left too. Jon ordered Tywin to keep the wound open while he searched for the missing parts. Finally he called me to bring the needles, and I saw the girl.

Her belly was an open wound, red and black by the candle light. Her body was numb, her eyes closed, her lips parted and unmoving. But the gash, the bloodied skin and sheet captured my gaze, my mind, my will. I put the trail on the table. My limb felt heavy, my head hot; blood rushed and tickled madly the tip of my fingers.

I left the room and threw up on the ground of the yard.

The emptying of my stomach lifted the height and warmth. I felt lighter as I went back to the walls for the mansion and sat on a stone bench. Stars shone around a full moon. The summer air was pleasant, warm yet not too hot, a bit humid from the rain of the past weeks. The smell of the city itself was far from the usual stench. I spotted a cat, walking at the top a roof, black against the dark blue sky. I breathed deeply, relieved to be away from the stuffiness of the house.

"You must think I'm pathetic, aren't you?" Gerion asked. He sat on the bench near me, just a foot away from me. His head hung; he smelled of defeat and shame. "It's all my fault."

"Tywin's there. He said it works sometimes. He'll make it right."

"Yes. He will. The Great Lion of the Rock will make it right, like he always does. He'll fixes my mistakes, right?"

I couldn't find any answer. In Gerion's voice I could hear regrets, envy, pride and bitterness. He sounded like he hated Tywin from being there and supportive; like he hated himself for this hatred, for his own weakness; like he hated the Seven themselves. Yet I knew, deep down, in the core of my body, that Gerion felt enormous pride and gratitude for his brother's presence.

"I didn't do it on purpose, you know. She had an easy pregnancy. The wise woman said everything would me alright."

"It's not your fault, Gerion. Tywin did his best for his wife too, and she still died. Sometimes it's just the Gods and bad luck." I put an hand on his shoulder, a natural, almost motherly gesture. I usually didn't like to touch anyone. "You were very brave. Many men would have abandoned the girl in the first place. Many would have been too proud to call for help, or cowards who would be afraid to come back at the Rock."

"I'm not brave. I'm not afraid of Tywin."

"A lot of people are afraid of him."

"I can't be afraid of him because I know he loves me. He'll never hurt me. Or at least, not seriously and on purpose," he admitted.

"It's still not your fault. If she dies, we'll take care of the child. If she lives, we'll make sure she's alright and cared for."

"You would accept my bastard in your house?

"She's your blood. Tywin's, Kevan's, Tygett's and Genna's blood. We're family, all of us. He or she won't inherit anything, but as lords of Fairkeep, we'll have more than enough for both him and our legitimate children. Furthermore, it's not his fault if his father can't keep his cock in his pants. But if I catch you with a woman again, I swear you won't have a cock anymore."

He let out a small laugh.

"Are you always that feisty?"

"No. I'm just very frustrated right now."

"Because of me?"

"Because of everything, actually."

The door opened, letting out the muffled cries of a baby. At least the child breathed now, though none of us could say the same for the girl. Tywin's expression was unreadable, even after he uncovered his face, smearing his left cheek with blood. His skin shone under the moon, covered in glittering sweat. It had taken a white, sickened hue; the blood stood out all the more. His hands were painted red up to the elbows.

"I'm going to check on the baby," Gerion said. Tywin stepped out of the way, but always close to the wall. Once his brother was gone he sat heavily on the bench, his breathing slow and deliberate, too methodic to be natural.

"Are you alright?"

"I'll be better in a minute," he answered, but his voice had none of its usual biting quality. He sounded tired, shaky and gulped on his words as if each one could make him throw up.

I unraveled the scarf around his neck and fetched some water from the well. I kneeled in front of him, plunged the shawl in the bucket, then raised it to his face to wash the blood off his cheek and beard.

"I'm sorry I soiled your scarf."

"Don't be silly."

"Did you just dare to call me silly?"

I moved to his hands, bathing his red fingers with slow, tender gestures.

"You are being silly," I said with a smile. He seemed more amused than angry. "Who cares about the scarf right now? You were very brave."

"And who are you now, my mother, congratulating me for some small feat?"

"I'm just an impressed supporter of yours."

"An impressionable supporter, you mean."

"Why?" I frowned. "Is the girl..."

"She's alive. She may still die during the night, tomorrow, or in a week."

"But she's still alive now. Thanks to you."

"Jon did all the work. I'm not worthy of any praise." I sensed no false modesty here, only a weird undercurrent of self-hatred. He closed his eyes and breathed. "I do like you, you know?" His green eyes opened to the sky, almost black in the darkness. "I may even love you as a member of my family one day. I usually don't like people. It's a pity, because if you knew me at all, you wouldn't be impressed. You wouldn't even respect, much less like me."

I was going to say something kind, perhaps that he was unwell right now, or a bad judge of himself, but Gerion showed up and somehow, continuing this conversation with a public wouldn't fit. Furthermore, he held the baby in one arm, softly hallowed by a candle Gerion carried in his other hand. He kneeled in front of us to show the small bundle against his chest. In the light of the fluttering flame, the baby was all pink and red, asleep, its lips moving according to some dream.

"She's a girl."

"She's so cute," I blurted out, delighted. She really was a precious little thing, so cute she made me forget Tywin's strange mood. She wasn't my blood, but after this horrible birth, I guessed I was more than happy to be whole, with my future husband's bastard in my arms. "Have you named her yet?"

"I was thinking of Alysanne. It was our mother's name."

"No," Tywin commanded. "Not Alysanne."

"Why? Because she's a bastard, she can't have our mother's name?"

"You knew nothing of our mother. The name carries nothing good. Find something to bring her happiness and pride."

Gerion frowned. Perhaps the nameless girl sensed his displeasure, or perhaps she was hungry. Her face contorted and the beginning of the wail came out of her little pink mouth. He sh-shooed her, but that only made her cry louder.

"Oh," Gerion said. "Oh. Please, don't cry, baby. I don't know what I'm supposed do with you if you start to cry, so please don't cry. Shhhhhhhhhhh."

Now the baby began to scream. Gerion threw a desperate glance at me, but I was as lost as he was.

"Don't look at me like this! I'm planning to have a nurse and... and..."

"You're a girl, you have maternal instincts!"

"You need to be a mother to have maternal instincts!"

"TYWIN !" Gerion half screamed, which only made Nameless-Baby wail louder. "You've had plenty of kids!"

"Don't even think about it."

"Come on, I heard you were fussing around Tygett..."

"No."

"Please!" Gerion tried to shove the girl into Tywin arms, but his brother was still opposing a valiant resistance: "No, get that baby away from me!"

"Do your big brother's duty!"

"Gerion..."

"I'm your vassal, I invoke the right of protection by my suzerain!"

"It's a fucking baby! Give it to Esteill!"

A pair of shutter flung open and someone cried for silence. A dog began to bark. I quickly retreated. I had never carried a baby. What if I dropped her?

"Come on, Tywin, you're waking the entire neighborhood!"

"-I'm wak..."

"-What are you afraid of?"

"-I don't like bab..." He couldn't finish: Gerion forcefully shoved the bundle against his chest. Tywin threw him a venomous glare but didn't drop the baby. Very tense, he looked at her as if he was afraid that she would jump and claw at his throat. She slowly stopped to cry. He tilted his head. Now, he reminded me more of a curious animal, wondering whether he should eat that thing or let it be. An awkward silence stretched between us. Gerion obviously grew tenser as Tywin's odd expression remained in place. Then the girl blurped, her face contorted and she started to cry again.

"I think your daughter is hungry. Was she fed yet?"

"Err, no," Gerion answered. "Not yet. The woman was, err, milked the goat. I bought it. The goat. In case of."

"You're not as stupid as I thought, then. Well," Tywin lowered his eyes to the baby. A sudden, warm smile stretched his thin lips. "We're going to fed that little wretched beast, won't we?" The girl approved by screaming even louder. "Shhhh. Gods, she sounds like you when you were..." Tywin said as he tried to stand. Tried, because his face suddenly turned white and he heavily sat back. "I'm alright. Just... got up too quickly. Go feed her." His voice sounded hollow. The unusual warmth had disappeared as quickly as it came. Gerion got the baby back from his brother's arms and disappeared inside the house.

As soon as the door closed, Tywin doubled over and threw up. His belly was mostly empty and he was quickly done. He washed his mouth, spat some water on the ground, got up again. His skin was already darkening to a more natural color. "I hate childbirth."

"How do you feel?"

"My head's too hot and the hands too cold. It's getting better, though." I touched his forehead with his back of my hand, but felt only cool skin. Tywin put it away, his grasp firm but not unkind. "Don't worry. I never had a strong stomach for such things. Joanna kept the secret well, but I actually fainted when Cersei was born."

"I don't believe you." The night was starting to feel a bit cold and I resisted the foolish wish to melt against his arm. "It's getting chilly. Perhaps we should get back inside."

"I'd rather not. I'll never get back into this wretched house. You can go if you wish."

"No. You're never talking about Joanna at all. I'd rather stay here, get a cold and hear about her."

"Come here." He extended an arm. I hesitated. Tywin was not an affectionate man, but tonight, the rules were blurred. I didn't know what to do of his mood swings; as I cuddled in his embrace, I almost felt like I was taking advantage of him. "My father always hated blood or violence. He jousted a little when he was young, but he never truly fought. But he was there for my birth, Genna's, Kevan's and Tygett's too. Not for Gerion's, though. My mother and he weren't... well, let's say there wasn't any love left between them at this point. I wanted to be beside her but she wouldn't have me. "You're my son and I'm not some pitiful little creature. I'll have you there the day I'll have no pride left." Still I was the first one to hold him. He was a horrible little baby, just like Jaime. You could get none of them to shut up. But when I had Gerion in my arms, I knew I wanted nothing more than a son of my own."

"When Joanna's labor begun, no one, even my king could keep me from her chamber. I would hold her hand even if she threatened to break all my fingers. I would be the first to see my son. Of course the whole thing lost its glamour when I discovered what childbirth really is." He chuckled, a dry little laugh sounding almost like a bark. "And I fainted. The maester said most men grow weak, but it didn't save me from Joanna's jokes when we were alone. She said I had been silly to stay by her side."

"When she was pregnant again, she made me promise I wouldn't be there. I didn't care if I made a fool of myself. But she had a difficult pregnancy this time, she said, and she didn't want to worry about me as well. When at least she allowed me to come in, she was already..." He looked away. "The maester..." He gulped. "The maester said there had been a choice. Her or the baby. I would have chosen her, even if the child had been perfect I would have chosen her. She knew. She knew and she kept me out so I couldn't save her."

Was I dreaming, or were his eyes truly shining? I could imagine water welling up, threatening to overflow. Kept down forcefully, by sheer will alone.

"Mom died three days after Eiline was born. She told me Lords and Ladies don't cry in public. She also told me that one should cry when alone, or he would drown in his own tears."

Tywin hugged me a little tighter. I felt his beard against my hair as he let his cheek rest on my head.

"Did your mother tell you what you do," he whispered, his voice a ragged breath, coming out like a bleeding wound, "when you feel the tears will never stop if you let them flow?"

I took hold of his hand.

"No. She just died," I could have said. But I did not. I didn't try to see if he was crying or not. I said nothing, did nothing.

Sometimes nothing can feel right but silence.