Summary: "You ask why I decided to name the volumes of my chronicle after colors. Well, in my view, no life was more colorful than that of the Old Lion, the Father of the Realm. Take, for example, the trilogy that makes up the first volume, Golden. From the very beginning, for the first twenty years of his life, Tywin Lannister pursued his goal with unwavering determination—to forge a legacy that was golden and eternal, to lift House Lannister from the ruin into which his father had plunged it.
Childhood in Casterly Rock, the court of King Aegon V, first alliances, first stirrings of the heart, the War of the Ninepenny Kings, the Reyne-Tarbeck Rebellion—all in pursuit of golden glory, whose pale light had dimmed with the death of his grandfather, Gerold the Golden. The knowledge that they were golden, once, never left him, feeding an ambition that went hand in hand with ruthlessness."
— Grand Maester Laenor, author of The Colors of Tywin Lannister's Life
242 After Conquest
"Lord Father?"
Gerold opened his eyes and suppressed a sigh. His son Tytos's voice was too cautious, too... worried. Such weakness was unbecoming of the future Warden of the West.
"Yes?" Though Gerold had every reason for his voice to sound feeble, it still carried more authority than Tytos's. On the other hand, the effort it took to project such power strained his throat painfully. When had he last drunk anything?
"I heard you're feeling better." Tytos knelt beside his seated father, sparing him the need to crane his neck.
Gerold simply nodded. True, the attempt to urinate remained a degrading torment, but at least the old Lord Lannister no longer whimpered from the pain.
"We returned from Ashemark yesterday. Jeyne thought that if you were feeling better, you might want to see your grandson." Tytos grinned, baring his teeth.
An intriguing warmth spread through Gerold's chest. Yes, the light of his twilight years. He had been unable to see his grandson immediately after his birth—the damned illness had turned him into a whimpering fox instead of the golden lion he should be. But now he felt better. Both he and the child had endured their trials of helplessness and could finally meet.
"Let them come," Gerold commanded. Tytos gestured to the guards, who opened the door.
A young woman carrying a child entered the chamber and Gerold nearly purred with satisfaction. Jeyne. Such an unremarkable name.
"My lord." Jeyne Marbrand curtsied almost to the ground.
"Dear child." Gerold allowed the corners of his mouth to lift. His daughter-in-law had clearly blossomed. She had once been a quiet, timid girl with an ordinary face. If not for her wide hips, Gerold might have overlooked her entirely when seeking a wife for his third son. And he would have regretted it—oh yes, he would.
"I have the pleasure of presenting your grandson and heir, Lord Tywin Lannister." Jeyne stepped closer. Though she could smell the stench of impending death around Lord Gerold, she was determined that this meeting would take place. Her firstborn needed the blessing of the Golden Lion.
Lord Tywin Lannister. Gerold didn't feel particularly offended that the child wasn't named in his honor. He knew Jeyne wouldn't allow Tywin to grow up weak like Tytos. No, Gerold was leaving the West in good hands—Jeyne Marbrand's elegant hands.
Sadness filled Jeyne as she leaned forward, carefully placing her son on her goodfather lap. She owed everything to Lord Gerold; it was painful to see him ravaged by illness.
"You look radiant, Lady Jeyne," Gerold said, focusing his attention first on his glowing gooddaughter. Who would have thought that such an ordinary girl could grow into such a stunning lady? Ha, he could claim no credit here. He hadn't chosen her for Tytos because of her beauty. The most important quality in the future Lady of Casterly Rock had been her cunning.
"Thank you, my lord. My visit home has done me well," Jeyne replied, offering a grateful smile first to Gerold and then to Tytos.
Oh, how clever Jeyne Marbrand was! A woman worthy of the house into which Gerold had woven her. When that viper, Ellyn Reyne, threatened her marriage, Jeyne knew exactly who her strongest ally was. Gerold had helped her gladly. Later, when Tywin was born, and Jeyne decided that Tytos was exposed to too many temptations at Casterly Rock, she took him and their son to her family's castle. She returned more beautiful, with Tytos wrapped around her finger.
"We're hoping Tywin will soon have siblings," Tytos declared, kissing Jeyne on the temple, causing her cheeks to flush—a blush that perfectly matched the red highlights in her dark blonde hair.
Jeyne noticed Lord Gerold glancing at her flat waist and quickly gave him a reassuring smile. She had everything under control. Her lord husband had no reason to seek the company of other ladies, and if things continued as they were, Jeyne would soon bear the Lannisters a spare heir.
"Excellent." Gerold raised his hand to gently caress Jeyne's cheek. The more heirs, the better. Gerold almost feared to imagine what would have happened had he and his beloved Rohanne stopped at the twins. Oh, why was even thinking of her so painful?
Something brushed against the golden sleeve of Gerold's robe as he drew his hand back from Jeyne's face. Ah, the reason for this delightful visit. The Golden Lion turned his attention to his grandson, who was reaching his little arms toward him.
Tywin Lannister was already a sizeable child, but he was a sweet weight on Gerold's lap. A perfect Lannister, with golden hair and the solemn expression of someone far wiser than his age suggested.
"Isn't our Tywin handsome, my lord father?" Tytos laughed, casually ruffling the beginnings of the golden mane on the boy's head.
"Yes. And healthy all the while?" Gerold carefully cupped the child's chin. Tywin squinted in mild annoyance, but oh, what fascinating eyes he had! Not the typical green of most Lannisters, nor even the emerald hue of Gerold's own eyes— Tywin's irises were a pale green, flecked with gold.
"Healthy, my lord. His wetnurse says he's exceptionally greedy for milk," Tytos chuckled, which seemed to irritate the young heir. Tywin clenched his tiny fists in response.
"He rarely cries," Jeyne added, though the fact worried her slightly. Didn't loud crying indicate strong lungs in a child?
"Prudent of him. He knows tears are worth nothing in this world," Gerold mused, lightly tickling Tywin's cheek, hoping for a baby's smile. He let out a surprised cry instead, as the boy opened his mouth and, with surprising strength, bit his finger.
Jeyne froze... but then exhaled in relief as Lord Gerold's face lit up with genuine pride.
"This lion already has fangs!" Gerold exclaimed, delighted. The boy had surprised him but it only reinforced his conviction that he was leaving House Lannister in its prime. Though he felt a pang of regret that he wouldn't have more time to know this fierce cub...
"Forgive me, my lord..." Jeyne began, reaching to take Tywin back, but Gerold stopped her with a gesture.
"No, truly, I am proud. Lord Tywin is a remarkable heir to our noble house. Yes, child, sometimes one must show their fangs…" Gerold tickled his grandson, who only tilted his head, studying him with a curious gaze.
"I think I'd prefer it if he laughed more… but perhaps the next one will be more cheerful?" Tytos remarked, scratching his head. Jeyne exchanged a quiet glance with her goodfather—they both agreed that Tytos laughed far too much.
"Take him to the playroom. There should still be some of Jason's old toys. Perhaps he'll find more reason to smile there." Gerold leaned forward and kissed Tywin's forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tytos scratching his head again.
"Are you feeling worse, my lord father?"
"No. Go, show Tywin the Rock. Let him know where his home is. Jeyne will stay with me," Gerold commanded. He was slightly surprised by how deftly Tytos took Tywin in his arms. His son, known as the Laughing Lion, left humming some sailor's song. Tywin's green-and-gold eyes sparkled with childish irritation over Tytos's shoulder. Gerold understood the boy's displeasure all too well. Why had the gods denied Tytos the gift of solemnity?
"A chair for Lady Jeyne," Gerold called to the guards standing by the door. One of them immediately ran to fetch a chair and placed it to Gerold's left.
"On the right," the old lord snapped, and Jeyne bit her lip to hide a proud smile. It was a small gesture, but it emphasized the trust she enjoyed as the future main lady of Casterly Rock.
Once the guard returned to his post, Gerold gave Lady Jeyne an appraising look. She wore a modest gown, but it was Lannister red, with gold embroidery on the sleeves.
"So, you've won. The War of the Wombs," Lord Gerold remarked, and Jeyne blushed. She had hoped that awful name hadn't reached the ears of the old lord Lannister.
"I've won the first battle in this war, my lord," Jeyne lowered her gaze. It was said that childbirth was a battle fought by the women of Westeros. Tywin had been born without complications, and that greatly boosted Jeyne's confidence.
"Yes, I suppose Lady Tarbeck will still cause us trouble," Gerold frowned. That viper had the audacity to name her daughter after his missing wife, his Rohanne!
"I've heard she's with child again," Jeyne shrugged. Even if Lady Ellyn bore a son now, he wouldn't threaten Tywin. Lady Ellyn no longer had the right to the Lannister name.
"If she gives birth to a son and names him Gerold… or Tion…" Gerold clenched his hand into a fist.
"My lord doesn't mind the name Tywin?" Jeyne nervously intertwined her fingers.
"Of course not, my dear lady Jeyne. You're far too clever to do anything that might upset me."
It was true. Gerold admired the prudence and measured wisdom of his daughter-in-law. She did not flaunt her ambitions—some might say she did not live by Lannister words (Hear Me Roar!)—but that was for the best. Tytos's roaring laughter was already loud enough without her adding to it.
Jeyne gently took one of Gerold's clenched fists in her hands. The golden rings gleamed on the thick, swollen fingers of the aged lord. Gerold the Golden's light was slowly dimming, but Jeyne felt a quiet satisfaction knowing her firstborn had been blessed by his grandfather.
"Tywin will be clever too. Cleverer than Lann himself. I will ensure it, my lord," Jeyne promised, and, making every effort to keep every trace of disgust from her face, she kissed Gerold's hand.
Gerold closed his eyes. For a fleeting moment, the coppery glints in Jeyne's hair made him feel as though Rohanne were there with him again. Especially with that carefully concealed distaste. He truly must be dying, for his thoughts to return so often to his lost wife.
"You have rekindled the tree of my house, Jeyne," Gerold rasped, attempting to humorously reference the sigil and words of House Marbrand, from which his gooddaughter hailed.
"If needed, I will cut away the branches that burned long ago," Jeyne whispered, shocked by the surge of hatred she felt for Ellyn Reyne.
"And those that bear no fruit must also be pruned," Gerold muttered, brushing away the image of a frail, blonde-haired girl who had begun to haunt his nightmares more frequently. Cerelle. He shuddered.
"My lord?" Jeyne noticed the grimace on the face of Lord Lannister. His illness was vile, something even the finest maesters, paid handsomely with Lannister gold, could not cure.
"Bear fruits, daughter. As many as you can. Bloodraven once told me that the Father of the Realm will be born of House Lannister." Gerold had no reason to doubt the words of the pale bastard—Bloodraven had lain with that sea-born witch who was said to foresee the future. The beautiful Shiera…
Jeyne instinctively glanced around. It was said Lord Bloodraven had a thousand and one eyes… but surely lord Gerold was rambling now. As if Tytos could be the Father of the Realm? Jeyne had no objection to giving birth to blond-haired treasures for House Lannister; it was her duty, but…
"Father of the Realm?" she repeated, pressing a hand lightly to her stomach. Why did history always remember the fathers, never the mothers?
"From your house, tainted by kin-slaying, will come the one who will be the Father for the Seven Kingdoms. That's what he told me," Gerold said, opening his eyes to study Jeyne's face. It was painted with confusion and unease. Naturally. Yet he trusted her deeply, because what other choice did he have?
Tytos was a fool who would dismiss his words as nonsense and make a joke of them. Jason might summon the courage to berate him—and rightly so. The poor boy blamed himself for Rohanne's disappearance, though the fault lay solely with Gerold. The gods had already punished him with this illness…
"I will not allow kin-slaying in our family," Jeyne declared, reaching out to soothe the Lord of Casterly Rock. But his next words made her pull her hand back as if burned.
"It's too late, child. Too late."
Jeyne shot to her feet.
"Rohanne?" she asked, horrified, wondering why Gerold would go so far.
"Cerelle," Gerold said softly. For a moment, he felt a pang of bitterness. He had loved Rohanne.
"No. She was just a child… a little girl," Jeyne said, stepping back with each word.
Gerold narrowed his eyes.
"And if Ellyn Tarbeck bore Tion a daughter who stood in the way of your Tywin, would you not get rid of her too?" the old lord asked. His words stopped Jeyne mid-step. He had struck a nerve. Jeyne might have considered uniting the two branches of the family, but ultimately, she would deem any fruit born of Ellyn Reyne's womb rotten.
"Did you not fear the gods would curse you, that you had brought an indelible shame upon your house, my lord?" Jeyne asked, feeling torn. The murder of a kin—a little girl—was a heinous crime.
"They cursed me, dear Jeyne. They took my wife, and they burdened me with this damned disease. Yet Westeros will remember me as Gerold the Golden, and that is the legacy I will pass to Tytos."
And Tytos will squander all that gold if left unchecked. After Gerold the Golden, there would remain only a bittersweet memory, and Tywin would be left repeating, Yes, we were golden, once. Jeyne thought, the growing weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders.
"Tywin will restore honor to our house," Jeyne declared, though the words tasted bitter on her tongue.
"Tsst, my clever Jeyne. Honor is not what matters most, and you know it well. Your son will understand it, too."
"Because you chose me to ensure that," Jeyne realized aloud.
Gerold would have purred with satisfaction if his decaying body allowed it. You will tell your little lion how golden we once were. With your milk, he will suck the desire to return to that resplendent state. And when the brilliance of his golden glory eclipses all memories of my rule at the Rock, Tywin Lannister will do whatever it takes to leave behind a legacy that shines golden forever.
A/N:
Hi!
This is my first story in English, which is not my first language (I should probably find a beta reader, but well—we die like Ned Stark).
Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate it, and any feedback is more than welcome.
Catwinya