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Chapter Text

“Princess Celia!” her nursemaid called. “Princess Celia!”

There were a couple other servants who were calling after her. However, Celia was running through the hall, lifting her ankle length skirt up so she could run a little easier. She was supposed to be in her lessons, but she didn’t want to be in them today, especially when her teacher laughed when she informed him that she wanted to be a maester. He had i formed her right back that women could not be maesters. 

Well, Celia was six namedays old and so many things could change so quickly. Her family had done what no king or queen had done before. They had United the Seven Kingdoms under one sigil. Who was to say that she would not become the first woman maester?

“Princess Celia!”

She ran into the library and climbed one of the ladders that leaned against one of the bookshelves built into the wall. It was just thick enough for her to hide there and watch and listen as the servants called for her. 

The only one who looked up was Her older brother Aerys. He was three years older than her and their father’s heir once he became king. Her brother smiled up at her. She glared at him, challenging him to tell the servants where she was. He pressed a finger to his lips. 

“She’s not here!” he called to whoever was still looking for her. 

She smiled at him as he winked at her. 

Her brother was the best. Celia was the baby of the family and her older siblings always babied her when they could, especially Aerys. He always carried her when she asked and he would let her get away with anything. 

Once the search seemed to quiet, Celia slowly and carefully made her way down the ladder. 

She went to the books and found her father waiting there, looking at her expectantly. 

Celia shrank a little at his gaze. He was not angry but she could tell he was disappointed and that was worse. 

“And what are you doing here, my little dragon?” he asked, his brow arched. 

“Teacher Selvor said I couldn’t become a maester,” she told him. 

“Ah, and you decided to run away.” Her father sat down on one of the chairs and motioned for her to come and sit in on his lap. 

Hesitantly, Celia did so. Her father wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on top of hers. “I’m going to be a maester.”

Her father chuckled. “Perhaps you will change your mind once you’re older,” he told her gently. “For now you need to return to your lessons.”

Celia scowled. “With Teacher Selvor?”

“No, you are to spend time with your sister and your septa to do your sewing lessons.”

Celia sighed. “Fine.”

—

Celia sat down beside her older sister Rhaella. She was the perfect Targaryen princess. Her silvery blonde hair was perfectly braided and her dress was just so. 

Celia, on the other hand, had dark hair like their grandmother. Her hair was wild and curly. And her dress was a little messy with a muddied hem and a slight tear in her stockings. 

Rhaella was a year older than Celia, but the two of them were so very different. A part of Celia wished she was more like Rhaella. 

Her sister was a princess the people of the keep adored. Celia was the baby, but Rhaella was the princess. 

“You shouldn’t run away,” Rhaella said quietly as they embroidered handkerchiefs. Her sister was embroidering a beautiful green dragon. Celia’s gold dragon was… definitely not in the shape of any dragon. 

“I want to be a maester,” whispered back. 

“A girl can’t be a maester,” her sister said, not looking at her. 

“I could be the first,” Celia insisted, a little too loudly. 

“Princess Celia,” the septa warned, and Celia shifted herself lower in her seat, a blush hearing her cheek. “We are supposed to focus on our embroidery.”

“Yes, Septa Evyle,” the two girls said together.

Rhaella glanced at Celia once their septa was not paying attention. “You are a princess, Celia. You have to do your duty to this family and to the crown.”

“Aemon joined the Watch. He became a maester.”

“Yes and he abandoned his family and his duty to the crown.” 

Celia frowned. “But…”

“No, buts. Remember your duty, Celia. That’s all we, as princesses, can do.”

—

“I hear Father found you in the library,” Aerys said as they moved to the instructor clapping out the beats of the dance. 

Celia frowned up at him. “I want to be a maester.”

“I heard,” her brother said with a smile. “You could be a septa instead.”

“Septas aren’t maester.”

“No, but it’s something you could do.”

“But I want to be a maester.”

“You could train as a midwife, but you’re a princess.” He swung her around carefully. 

“I wish I wasn’t a princess,” she told him. 

“But you are. We were all born into this family for a reason.”

“Why was I born?” she asked. “I don’t even look like a Targaryen.”

Her brother tapped her nose with his thumb. “You’ve got the eyes for it. But maybe you were meant for something beyond the Red Keep.”

“Oldtown?” she asked hopefully.

Her big brother laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Sure.”

—

“Hello, Grandfather,” Celia said with a curtsy. 

He smiled down at her and opened his arms to her. Celia ran into his arms. He picked her up and kissed her hair. He never said it but Celia was certain that she was his favorite grandchild because she looked like her grandmother, Betha Blackwood. 

“I hear you have been making a fuss, my little dragon.”

“I’m going to be a maester.”

Her grandfather laughed. “You are far too pretty to be a maester. They are old and not fun at all. And you, my little dragon, are none of those things.”

“But I want to be a maester.”

Her grandfather looked at her sadly. “The gods have great plans for all of us, Celia. I don’t think you were meant to be a master. Perhaps if you were a man, but you are our littlest princess.”

Celia frowned. “Great Uncle Aemon became a maester.”

“He did. He’s a good man, my brother. And you remind me of him sometimes. But I don’t think you were meant for the lonely life of a maester.” Her grandfather kissed the top of her head. “One day, you will get married and have children. You might not become a maester, but you will have a wonderful fate ahead of you, my little dragon. I’m sure of it.”

Chapter Text

Tywin sat with his family in the grand hall of Casterly Rock. They were hosting House Frey, one of the lowest of the lowest of noble houses in Westeros, even from within the Riverlands from whence they came. They were nothing like House Lannister. 

House Lannister was born from the Age of Heroes. They were a descendant of kings, of a dynasty that had been around longer than the current kings of Westeros. They were rich and they were powerful. 

And they were hosting the Freys. His father had invited them to Casterly Rock, even though Tywin’s mother didn’t seem pleased with the presence of the Freys. 

Walder Frey was almost in his fourties and smelled of rotting water. Tywin would admit that, at ten, he thought anyone above thirty was ancient, but Walder Frey was truly ancient. Lord Frey was drinking the best wine and he and his brood of children were loud and uncivilized. 

“You’re sneering,” Kevan said from beside him. “An heir shouldn’t sneer.”

Tywin twisted his features into a more neutral expression. “Mother doesn’t seem pleased.”

“Father does. He’s plying Lord Frey with the best wine.” Kevan paused. “Why do you think Lord Frey is here?”

“Half of the Westerlands are here and the Freys hold the Twins. Trading, maybe?” Tywin was annoyed that he was his father’s heir, the heir to the rock and he wasn’t informed of what his father was planning. 

“Everyone!” their father’s voice boomed across the grand hall, the joy and wine obvious in his tone. Tywin’s father stood and held up his goblet of wine. “I have no doubt that you are wondering why you have been called her today.”

Tywin rolled his eyes and Kevan elbowed him in the side to behave. 

Their father was grinning and Tywin could see that his mother was a little embarrassed and she didn’t look as thrilled as whatever his father was about to say. 

“I am happy to announce a betrothal between my only daughter, the Lady Genna, and Lord Walder’s son, Lord Emmon Frey.”

Tywin’s eyes widened and he looked down at his other side to his little sister, who was only seven. Some strands of her blonde hair were coming undone from her braid. Her green eyes looked from their father to their mother in confusion. 

Emmon Frey was twice as old as Genna. He was small and not worthy of Tywin’s only little sister. The lords clapped in half hearted support. 

Ellyn Tarbeck threw her head back and laughed. Awful woman. The fact that she had once been allowed to carry the name Lannister was an insult. 

Roger Reyne stormed out of the grand hall in a rage, no doubt hoping to secure a betrothal between House Reyne and House Lannister once more. 

“No,” Tywin said firmly. He stood up and glared at his father. 

“Tywin,” his brother hissed. 

Genna looked up at him in worry. 

“Tywin, sit down,” his father said, color draining from his face. 

“No! They Freys are not worthy of having a Lannister as a bride!”

“Tywin, sit down,” his father ordered. 

Tywin opened his mouth, but then his mother spoke. “Sit down, Tywin,” she said. “Please.”

He sat down harshly on his seat and scowled. A small hand slipped into his. He looked at Genna as she squeezed it tightly. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

—

“You were so brave.” 

Tywin turned around to look at his cousin Joanna. She was the same age as Genna, but more slight and pretty. Although Tywin also knew that he saw Genna differently from other people. Joanna's brothers probably saw her the same way Tywin saw Genna. 

“It wasn’t about being brave,” he told her. “It was about protecting my sister.” She smiled at him and Tywin felt heat begin to rise to his cheek. “Does bravery get a reward?” 

She giggled at him and went to him and kissed his cheek. She continued to giggle and rushed off as her father called for her. 

An elbow knocked against his side and Tywin turned and found his little brother grinning at him. “Someone likes our little cousin.”

The heat in Tywin’s cheeks became a blush. “Shut up.”

Kevan laughed. “Never.” The smile slipped from his mouth. “While Joanna thinks you’re brave, I think your stupid. Father won’t be pleased that you spoke out against him. Mother couldn’t tell him no either so she probably came to agree with it.”

—

Tywin sat in his room, stewing. His father refused to budge on the matter of Genna’s betrothal. 

Tywin paced in his room, trying to think of what to do. He needed to do something to protect his sister, it was his duty to look after her. He was the eldest brother and he was the heir to Casterly Rock and Genna was a Lannister. 

Tywin went to his desk and pulled out a scroll and ink and a quill. 

Emmon Frey,

I shall not call you lord for you are not even your father’s heir. We are not equals, I am above you and you are beneath me.

I am writing to inform you that you do not deserve my sister. You are not worthy of a Lannister and I warn you that I will not tolerate my sister being treated as though she is just any woman if she is to become your wife. 

She is Genna of House Lannister, the only and beloved sister of the heir to Casterly Rock. 

If you hurt my sister, if you dishonor her as your father dishonors all his wives, I will rain fire upon your house for this disservice. I will make sure that you pay for any mistreatment of my sister. You will pay for it.

Your superior,

Tywin Lannister, Heir to House Lannister

Tywin had to write some of the words more slowly so that they were properly spelled, going over to get a dictionary to make sure that the spelling was right. 

He sealed the letter and went to the maester. 

“Are you in need of something, my lord?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “I wish for you to have this sent to the Twins and have it addressed to Emmon Frey.”

“My lord,” the maester said hesitantly. “The Freys are here. Surely if you wanted to speak to Lord Emmon Frey, you could do so in person.”

Tywin shook his head. “I want the letter sent.”

The maester’s lips formed a thin line but nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”

—

Tywin’s father slammed a letter down on the table, causing all of them to startle. 

“You wrote to Emmon Frey and threatened him?” his father demanded. 

“I informed him that if he mistreated Genna, he would face the consequences,” Tywin said coolly. 

“You think I would betrothed my daughter to a boy I think might harm her?”

“You see how Walder Frey treats his wives?” Tywin demanded. “Emmon Frey is not even the heir! Genna is the daughter of the lord of House Lannister! She is the sister of the future Lord of Casterly Rock! She could get betrothed to the crown prince! She could get betrothed to any heir to any noble house that she wants! And you have her plans to marry a pathetic nobody!”

“Enough!” his father shouted. 

“Tytos,” Tywin’s mother said gently. “He’s just a boy and he’s worried about his sister.”

“He needs to learn humility.”

Tywin laughed without humor. “It’s a good thing we have gold because that’s rich coming from you.”

His cheek stung as his father’s hand came down on him. 

“Tytos!” his mother cried, standing up. 

His father held out his finger to silence her. “You are to learn humility. You are to go to King’s Landing and serve as a cupbearer to the king.”

“Father!” Kevan shouted. 

Genna was just staring at them all, her eyes wide. Tygett was just a baby and only knew that his father was angry. 

“You will go and serve the king like a servant, which is what all of us are in regards to the king. Perhaps then you will learn to not go behind your lord father’s back and humiliate him!”

Tywin held his cheek and glared at his father as his mother came to him and fussed over his bruising skin. 

Tywin hated his father. He truly did. 

Chapter Text

Celia loved her grandmother, Queen Betha. 

The older members of court said that she looked as her grandmother had in her youth, although her eyes were very distinctly Targaryen. She did not look much like her grandmother now, however. 

“Come here, child,” her grandmother said, motioning her toward the fire. “Help me with my veil.”

Celia did as she was told with an easy heart. She loved helping her grandmother with her veil. The pure white silk felt like water on her fingers as she carefully lifted the circlet from her head and placed it on the satin pillow. And then she lifted the white veil and draped it across the back of her grandmother’s chair. And then she watched with rapt attention as her grandmother slowly unpinned the fillet and let her grey braid free from its confines. 

Her grandmother’s hair was no longer dark like Celia’s was, but she still wore the veil and wimple as she had from the moment she stepped into the sept to marry Celia’s grandfather. 

“Thank you, my dearest,” the queen said, pressing a soft kiss to Celia’s cheek. 

“When do you think I will be old enough to wear one forever?” she asked. Celia was far too young to have her hair hidden away and presented as Targaryen white. Once she had flowered, perhaps, but no sooner. It protected her as none would look at her with ill intentions when she was still presented as a child. 

“Once you are old enough to have a child,” her grandmother said, rolling one of Celia’s dark braids between her fingers. 

“I want to look like Rhaella and mother.”

“Do you not think of yourself as beautiful, my littlest dragon?”

“Mother says I don’t have a Targaryen beauty like Rhaella.”

“You have a Blackwood beauty, my love,” her grandmother said tenderly. “How about we braid your hair with a white ribbon for my nameday feast in a few days.”

Celia brightened. “Can I?”

“Of course,” she laughed. “It is not the same as my veils and everyone will still be able to see your beautiful black hair, but if it pleases you, my littlest dragon, then I shall allow you that.”

Celia could not wait for when she could wear her veil. 

—

Celia’s mother braided Celia’s hair carefully, weaving in the white silk into the braid. Her mother never let anyone else brush her or Rhaella’s hair. She said that Celia would understand once she had a daughter of her own. 

“You look so lovely, my little dragon,” her mother said. She kissed Celia’s neck to tickle her and Celia giggled. “Now, tell me what you did to convince your grandmother to allow you to braid your hair with white?”

“I love Grandmother’s veil and wimple.”

“Mhm,” her mother hummed. “But I love that you don’t have the Targaryen beauty. You make our family so much better than it had been without you. And you represent the love your grandparents share by being a perfect blend of them, that their love shall live on through you.”

Celia blushed. “Mother,” she said moving on. “Can I wear the hair pin that Uncle Daeron got me?”

Her mother’s eyes grew so very sad at the mention of Celia’s uncle who had died the previous year. Her mother still mourned him, they all did. 

Her mother set the pin, that looked like an arrow set aflame, in her hair. “Perfect,” she said, kissing her hair. “Now, stand and twirl so I might see the complete vision.”

Celia did as she was asked and twirled around happily. She wore a red dress with black trim and white flowers embroidered along her bodice. She felt like a beautiful princess. 

“Beautiful,” she said. “Now, let’s go meet with your father, and your brother and sister.”

Celia nodded and took her mother’s hand and pulled her mother along. 

Her father was dressed in red and gold with a black cloak draped across his shoulders. Aerys wore something similar to their father only in the inverse, black and gold with a red cloak. Rhaella wore a black dress with gold trim and a golden dragon sleeping at the hem of her skirt. 

Celia’s mother was dressed in gold.

“Aerys!” Celia shrieked so loudly that her father winced. She rushed to her big brother and skipped in a circle in excitement. “Mother let me braid my hair with white.”

He smiled at her as older brothers often did when their little sisters talked about things that made them look pretty. “Very pretty, Celia.”

She smiled and then wrapped her arms around her father. He stroked her hair, smoothing it out. 

“Alright, my little clutch,” he said to all of them. “Let’s go.”

—

Celia’s father danced with her carefully around the room. Her father never had the best of health, but he always made time to dance with her, Rhaella, their mother, and their grandmother. 

“You’re growing up, my little dragon,” he said. “Can you promise me something?”

Celia nodded enthusiastically. 

“Promise me that you shan’t try to grow up too quickly?”

She thought for a long moment. “I promise.”

—

Celia followed behind her mother alongside Rhaella as their grandmother took them to the Sept of Baelor to pray. 

Her grandmother said it was her duty as queen, and their duties as princesses in the main royal family to come and pray to the gods on behalf of the people and the rest of their family. 

However, when Celia knelt before the gods to pray, the only person she cared to pray for was her father and she asked that the gods give her father good health. She felt that it was the only thing important enough to pray to the gods for. 

Chapter Text

Tywin oversaw his things being packed for King’s Landing. His anger had begun to simmer after the last few days, but he was still angry. 

He was to be a cupbearer. A cupbearer to a king, but a cupbearer nonetheless. He was to act as a servant to the king. He, a servant. 

He was the heir to House Lannister, the greatest of the noble houses. He would not stand such injustice. He would not. 

They said that a Lannister always paid his debts, and he knew that he would make certain his debts to his father were paid. 

His cheek occasionally smarted at the thought of his father’s hand. 

Yes, he would pay him back for all the ills. He would pay him back for the injustice to his only beloved sister. He would pay him back for the injustice to his lady mother for all the ills he caused Tywin’s mother. 

Tywin hated him. He hated that his father laughed and smiled at even the thinly veiled insults aimed towards him. He hated that his father made their family into a laughingstock. 

He hated that his father would leave Tywin to pick up the pieces. 

Tywin left his rooms, not caring for it to continue looking at his room grow more and more empty. 

“It’s not fair that you have to leave,” came Joanna’s voice. 

Tywin felt a slight flush rise of his cheek as he saw her. She wore red today, Myrish lace of spun gold, her even brighter gold hair loose with a red ribbon in her hair. She was very, very pretty. 

“My father hopes that I might go to serve Princess Rhaella once I am old enough to be away from his side,” she said with a smile. “Perhaps I might join you soon in King’s Landing? Perhaps we might get better acquainted there?”

“Perhaps,” Tywin answered, his cheeks darkening. “Might I write to you, while I am away?”

She smiled brightly to him, her smile as bright as the sun. “Of course. And I shall write to you in return, if you would allow me to.”

“Of course,” he answered quickly. “Yes, yes I would accept any letter you sent me.”

She smiled and took his hands between her own. “Thank you, I hope to see you again.”

—

The journey to King’s Landing was a peaceful one. He was to ride by a carriage for the majority of it, only taking up to ride a horse once they reached a closer distance to the great capital city. 

His siblings had given him little trinkets to remember them by, his sister holding onto him tightly when he left. She had even cried and it had taken their mother to usher her away so Tywin could enter his carriage. 

Leaving the Westerlands was more melancholy than Tywin thought it would be. Leaving the rolling hills of the only home he had ever known was a heartbreak he could endure, but it was more than he thought he would have to. 

He saw the brief beauty of the Reach and then also Riverlands and then the Crownlands. None of them were even half as grand as the West. 

And King’s Landing was nothing like Casterly Rock. 

—

The Targaryens were a large family, but nowhere near as grand as House Lannister. 

King Aegon V had aged much better than Tywin’s older uncles. He was dressed richly, but not as ostentatiously as Tywin’s own father. On his arm was the queen, Betha Blackwood. She was dressed in black with a white veil and wimple held in place by her small crown. She looked at him with a peaceful smile. A grandmotherly person befitting a mother of the realm. 

Beside him was his heir, Prince Jaehaerys and his sister-wife Princess Shaena. They were beautiful people, and looked quite alike although the prince was rather thin and looked too pale to be healthy. 

Beside him was the dark Prince Duncan and his red haired wife, the wolf Jenny of Oldstones. They were a handsome couple but Tywin had to withhold a slight sneer because they had not done their duty to the kingdom or their father. 

Then there was Princess Rhaelle and her husband Lord Ormund Baratheon. They were like night and day in their appearance. She was dressed warmly like the sun or a star and he was dressed darkly like the night. 

Below them were the children of House Targaryen. There was the Baratheon heir Steffon, who was perhaps six and not very interesting. Every inch what a Baratheon boy should look like. Then there was the Prince Aerys who seemed to be of age with Tywin. He smiled at Tywin, no doubt ready for a new playmate. There was the pretty Princess Rhaella, who was every inch what Tywin thought a young Targaryen princess should look like. He felt that Joanna would enjoy becoming her friend. His cousin was the sort of girl who made friends easily, much more easily than Tywin did. 

Then there was the youngest of the Targaryens. Princess Celia Targaryen looked more like the child of Prince Duncan and Jenny of Oldstones. Her hair was dark and her eyes were a vibrant lavender. She held onto her older brother and looked at Tywin in curiosity and Tywin wondered how many new people she had met that were not family members and were not already members of court. 

“Welcome to the Red Keep, Lord Tywin,” the king said kindly. Tywin’s chest swelled with pride in being treated like a true lord that was of age. “We have your rooms ready and we shall welcome you more merrily once you are settled.”

Tywin bowed. “Thank you, your grace.”

—

Tywin rather liked the rooms he was given. He was even allowed a small solar for his studies should he wish to spend some of his time amongst the books. 

He would make his place here. He would make himself a better man and lord than his father. 

Chapter Text

Celia watched as the new boy, Lord Tywin Lannister, spoke with her father and her brother. Aerys had his chest puffed out as though to make him look as old as the new boy in his midst. Aerys had been so desperate for a friend. Their cousin, Steffon, was Celia’s age and although her brother never referred to Celia as a baby, he complained that Steffon was too much of a baby to really play with. Celia didn’t quite understand it, but she found no reason to argue. 

The boy was rather handsome with his dark golden hair and piercing green eyes. They seemed all-knowing in the way he sized people up. 

“You shouldn’t stare, Celia,” Rhaella said, taking Celia’s hand in her own. 

“If I don’t stare,” Celia said. “How will I see?”

Rhaella gave a rather unlady-like snort and pulled Celia along. “It’s impolite to stare at people ,” Rhaella amended. “Now come along. We can’t be late for our lessons.”

“I don’t want to go to lessons,” Celia complained. “I can’t be a maester.”

“No,” her sister said. “You’ll be something better. A princess and a wife is much better than being a maester.”

Celia rolled her eyes but allowed her sister to drag her along. “Why do you think Tywin Lannister has come to the Red Keep?” she asked. “He’s the heir to the Lannisters, but he isn’t a cousin like Steffon.”

“It’s impolite to gossip, Celia,” Rhaella said with a sigh. 

Celia scowled. “It’s not gossip, it’s just asking a question.”

“If you must know, he’s here to learn humility. I heard Mother and Father discussing it. Apparently he did something embarrassing for Lord Lannister and that’s why he’s here.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, that’s the only reason I have,” he sister replied as she pulled them both into their lesson with their septa. 

—

After their lessons, both girls were released and Celia left Rhaella to do whatever it was that Rhaella liked to do and went to the library to read. 

She liked reading the histories and the books about medicine. She couldn’t always understand or read the big words, but she was never going to say them aloud until she was older so it was not like she had to worry about mispronouncing them and getting embarrassed by saying the wrong thing. 

Sometimes, when her father was not busy, he would sit by her in the library and help her with the big words. 

Her mother didn’t care for her reading so much and said that she should focus on the more feminine arts like Rhaella, who was working on an elaborate embroidery project for their grandmother. 

However, Celia would rather not as it would mean she would have to spend time with her Aunt Jenny. 

Celia didn’t care much for her Aunt Jenny. She loved her Uncle Duncan, but her aunt had absolutely no idea of how to do anything as a princess. She didn’t behave like a proper princess, but Celia had an excuse because she was a child. Her Aunt Jenny had no such excuse. 

She also didn’t like the witch her aunt had brought into her confidence. 

It unnerved Celia. 

The woman looked at her and her siblings strangely. Her siblings did not like the wood witch either. Whenever the witch entered the room, her sister or brother would stomp out, dragging her with them. 

She could still remember the witch stroking Celia’s hair and telling her that she was no true dragon for she would burn. 

Celia had cried and her mother had slapped the woman's hand away and had started screaming at the witch and her aunt. Her mother had lifted Celia into her arms and marched Celia away. 

Celia did not like the wood witch and she did not like that her aunt had brought her there. 

—

News came that Brynden Rivers, some uncle or cousin had disappeared North beyond the Wall. 

Celia had heard about him, but he had been gone long before Celia had been born or before Celia‘s parents had been married. 

She felt nothing at the idea of his loss. 

Her grandfather seemed a little sad, and because he was sad, her grandmother was sad. 

Celia prayed to the Stranger and the Crone for him. She prayed he felt peace, in whatever capacity he could. 

—

“You seemed rather interested in the Lannister boy,” her mother said as she tucked Celia into bed. 

She blushed. “He’s new.”

Her mother chuckled. “Yes he is. But that is not what I am saying.” Her mother tucked her dark hair behind Celia’s ear. “He’s a rather handsome boy isn’t he?”

Celia’s face heated even more. “He looks different from Aerys and Steffon.”

Her mother laughed softly. “He is different from Aerys and Steffon. Is that something you find handsome?”

Celia thought for a moment before nodding. Her mother kissed Celia’s brow. 

“Mother, when did you know you wanted to marry Father?”

“Since I was a little girl. He was to marry my friend Celia Tully. But she did not wish to marry him and she helped us marry in secret.”

“It’s so romantic,” Celia said. “And she’s where I get my name from.”

“Yes it is. Oh, we thought to name Rhaella after her, but your father and I are so glad we saved the name for you.” She nuzzled Celia’s nose. “I hope you find a love like mine and your father’s, my dearest.”

Celia reached out and hugged her mother and kissed her cheek. She didn’t know if she wanted to marry, but she hoped she would be as happy as her parents. 

Chapter Text

“Grandfather says I am to welcome you properly now that you’ve settled in,” came a voice from behind Tywin. 

Prince Aerys Targaryen was standing there outside his formal clothes, dressed in a more casual red tunic and black trousers. His silvery curls were a mess as though he had run all the way to be there—even if he put up a nonchalant expression. 

“Your grace,” Tywin said, bowing his head slightly. 

“Aerys,” the prince insisted, messing with his high collar. “Barely anyone refers to me as your grace unless it’s a servant and you’re not a servant.”

“I’m your grandfather’s cupbearer.”

Aerys snorted. “Please. My grandfather has plenty of cupbearers. You are to come to lessons with me and Steffon. He’s Celia’s age though, so he’s kind of boring, especially because my aunt dotes on him too much because he’s her only baby. He’s more of a kitten than dragon or stag, so be prepared to follow you around like a ball of string. It’s annoying, but Celia likes to pretend she’s older than him and Rhaella and her like to pretend he’s their baby when they play.”

Tywin felt like the boy standing in front of him talked too much and his usual face of indifference wasn’t working. Kevan usually knew to stop talking when Tywin made this face, but the prince was completely oblivious to it. “So are you going to show me around?”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Follow me.” 

Tywin sighed and followed after the prince as he smiled and talked about every little thing they passed in the keep. He even said hello to the servants by name as he passed them. The prince was the happy sort of person and seemed to be in good spirits and rouse it for those around him. Tywin supposed that was a good quality of a future king. 

This was someone Tywin should be friends with. A future king. The Stormlands were already guaranteed to be linked closely to the crown due to the Baratheon’s being the only major house to marry into the royal family. There were rumors of Prince Aerys and Princess Rhaella marrying, and even more rumors of Princess Celia being married to her cousin Steffon Baratheon when the time came. It was gossip more than rumors, and Tywin was not the sort of person to take people at their word. 

Becoming friends with the future king would open up opportunities to him. And if he were to become the most trusted friend of the king hen perhaps he would be Hand. The thought of the golden pin on his breast sent a thrill up Tywin’s spine. 

More power than his father would ever dream of. More power so that he could make decisions, so his sister might be saved from a marriage far beneath her, so that he might protect his mother from his father’s drunken hand. 

Yes, Tywin would become Hand. He could not be the most powerful man in the land, that position was always the king’s, but he could be the power behind the throne. 

Perhaps it would be time to put Lannister gold to use. 

“That’s pretty much all the important parts of the Red Keep for you to know,” Aerys said. “I’m supposed to be heading to my lessons and I can take you there so you can join in. Father heard you are really smart so I suppose you’ll like that sort of thing. Sword practices are funner though, even if we aren’t using live steel.”

“I prefer swords as well,” Tywin said carefully. 

Aerys grinned. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine then, Lannister.”

Tywin smiled back. He thought so too. 

—

Aerys was right about his cousin Steffon. When Tywin sat down to join the lesson with the Grand Maester, the Baratheon boy stared at Tywin in awe as though he were the most interesting person he had ever seen. Tywin supposed it was because he was an only child, that was the only explanation he could think of. 

Before the lesson could properly begin though, the door slammed open so hard that Tywin could feel the sound in his spine. He turned to look and saw the youngest Targaryen princess breathing heavily, looking like a boy dressed in a skirt than an actual princess. She looked a mess. Her violet eyes were shining with a determination that reminded Tywin of Kevan when he had stolen scones from the kitchens before dinner. 

“I was wondering where you were, princess,” the maester said kindly. 

“Grandfather said I can learn my lessons here today!” she said in a loud voice that belonged to a child used to getting their way. 

“Indeed,” the elderly man said. “However, you must remember your manners, your grace. Your mother would be very cross with you if she knew you were impolite.”

Her already flushed cheeks turned rosy and she went to her brother and kissed his cheek. “Hello, brother,” she said. She kissed Steffon’s cheek and the boy made a disgusted face. “Hello cousin.” She turned to Tywin and he had the embarrassing worry that she might kiss his cheek as well. The princess didn’t, but she did curtsy to him. “My lord.” Her eyes stayed on him for a moment before glancing at the maester who was smiling. 

“Very good, your grace. You may sit.”

The princess beamed and sat down next to her cousin. 

“Now, since we have a more official guest to our lessons, why don’t we discuss the unification of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Aerys groaned and, being the oldest of the Targaryen children, Tywin supposed he had heard this lesson often. Steffon was dividing his attention between the maester and Tywin already. Princess Celia was looking at the maester in excitement as if this was the most exciting thing she had done all day . Tywin had seen his sister’s lessons and guessed that it might very well be the case. 

“Now,” the maester began. “The Targaryens had lived on Dragonstone long before they turned their gaze and their dragons to Westeros.”

Tywin already knew the history and tuned the old man out, however, he made sure to look invested, which was more than what Aerys seemed to be doing. 

—

“So, Lord Tywin,” the king said as Tywin ate with the royal family for dinner. “The maester tells me you are quite far ahead in your studies. Is that at your father’s urging or your own?”

“I like learning, your grace,” he replied. 

The maester had spoken to him after the lesson, apparently able to tell that he was bored throughout the entire thing. They had discussed what Tywin had been learning at Casterly Rock and the maester had promised to adjust lessons and even suggested a book he read that might be a little more advanced than what was typical for someone Tywin’s age. 

“Perhaps you might help my granddaughter,” the king laughed. 

The youngest princess gave a squeak of surprise and blushed furiously. 

“Father,” Princess Shaena admonished.

However, this got a chuckle from most of the men at the table, although Tywin couldn’t figure out why it was funny. 

“She doesn’t seem to need any help, your grace,” Tywin replied. She seemed reasonably smart for someone her age and eager to learn. He couldn’t think of why she would need his help. 

“Ah, youth,” the king chuckled and took the queen’s hand in his own and kissed it. “How they miss the intricacies of our word play.”

Tywin was fairly certain they might be making fun of the princess more than they were of him, but he felt annoyed on both of their behalfs. 

“I want to be Hand one day, your grace,” Tywin said. 

“Oh?” the king leaned back in his seat. “Yes, I could see that.” He turned to Prince Jaehaerys. “What do you think, son? Shall he be for your reign or Aerys l?”

“It doesn’t bode well to speak of future reigns, Father,” the thin prince said. 

“Nonsense. Aerys it is then.” He winked at Tywin and something about him reminded him of Tywin’s father. 

Only better. 

—

Tywin missed his mother. He felt annoyance churn in his chest as he watched the royal children get kisses from their mother while he would have to go without. 

He went to his rooms and found that two letters had been delivered. 

One was from his father, so he didn’t care to read it. Another came from Joanna. 

He opened the letter and read it quickly. There were a few misspellings crossed out, but that was to be expected. 

Tywin,

Things are so different without you. I hope that you come back soon! Or maybe I could come? I hear the princess is really pretty and maybe we could become friends. 

Write me soon!

Joanna

Tywin smiled and tucked the letter protectively in his desk. That would be where all his important letters went. 

Chapter Text

Celia was seven now and forced to become more like her sister. Rhaella was now eight and every inch the proper princess, but she had always been. 

Celia still wished to become a maester or something important. She knew that she could not remain a princess forever—she would always have the title but she would not always be the littlest princess. 

She looked down at her needlework. She did not mind embroidery if she could do whatever she wanted. But her septa wanted her to do whatever it was that her sister wished to do or to perfect each and every stitch until she got them perfect every time. 

Celia hated it. She was not like Rhaella. She did not wish to remain as such. She wanted to go back to her books. She wanted to study her histories and her stories and her other books with words too big for her to read and understand. Her father had even gotten a dictionary for her past nameday. 

“Your grace!” her septa squawked. 

Suddenly, Celia felt familiar arms around her waist and she was suddenly hoisted into the air. 

“Aerys!” her sister shouted. 

Their brother’s laughter rang through the room and past her ear. “I have come to steal the princes!” he called. “As dragons are want to do.”

With as much strength as her brother has, he lifted her up as much as he could until he could swing her legs up into his arms as well. He laughed and carried her out. 

Celia laughed as well and wrapped her arms around Aerys’ neck and smiled up at him. “You are my dragon knight!” she told him and he grinned at her. “More knight than dragon.”

“Does that make me your favorite brother?” he asked. 

“You are my only brother.”

“Then that means I am your favorite,” he said triumphantly. 

Celia smiled and hugged him more closely. 

—

Celia sat at her brother’s tenth nameday tourney. She was with her aunts instead of her mother and sister. 

She sat closer to her aunt Rhaelle. She much preferred the Lady of Storm’s End more than her Aunt Jenny. Her Targaryen aunt was every inch a princess of the house of dragons like Celia’s mother was. Aunt Rhaelle was beautiful with dark golden hair that had grown a little course the past few years. But she was so noble looking and did her duties to her house of birth and her house of marriage. 

She was a princess that Rhaella would model after, just as her name was modeled after their aunt’s. 

Their parents never encouraged them to be like their Aunt Jenny. Celia was almost certain her parents put up with her lowborn aunt for her uncle’s sake and no other reason. Her aunt acted as though she were still a child of Oldstones, if she was even a true child of that place. 

Celia knew some people whispered that her aunt was a witch that had put a spell on a prince to make him love her. She very much doubted her aunt had any sort of power or cunning in terms of witchcraft. Her aunt was not the sort of seductress to do so. 

Celia glanced up at her Aunt Rhaelle and mimicked her aunt and hoped that would be good enough. She waved at the knights and clapped for those that her aunt favored, which were mainly men of the Stormlands, but Celia also made certain to clap as well for knights that fought for her own house, which included her Uncle Duncan. 

—

Celia knew that people often thought that she looked more like her Uncle Duncan and Aunt Jenny’s daughter, she had heard the whispers of it. However, Celia felt she looked more like her mother with her grandmother’s coloring. 

She hated that her Aunt Jenny seemed to think that meant she could mother Celia as much as she wanted and it only drove Celia to stay even closer to her aunt. 

“You cut quite a portrait,” her Aunt Rhaelle said, setting her hand on Celia’s back. “You will make quite a lady wife one day. Perhaps I shall snap you up for my little Steffon.”

“I want to be a maester,” she told her aunt with assurance. 

“Oh?”

“Yes. I want to read all day and study big words.”

Her aunt smiled. “You can still read as much as you want when you marry, which will be years away anyway.”

“But I won’t have as much time to read if I am a wife and mother.”

Her aunt laughed. “You are a child yet and perhaps you shall change your mind soon enough.”

Aunt Jenny stood and clapped and Celia turned to see her Uncle Duncan was to fight a knight called Barristan. Celia had heard of him. He had fought in tourneys since the age of ten. 

Celia clapped for her uncle and hoped he would win. 

Barristan Selmy was sixteen and Celia thought him to be very handsome. He had blond hair and a piercing set of blue eyes. Celia clapped for him as well. 

Her Aunt Rhaelle chuckled and kissed Celia’s hair. “Who do you think will win?”

“Uncle Duncan, I think,” she said. “I think that Father would have been a good knight if he were healthier.”

Her aunt smiled. “I think you are right,” she said. “He would have made for a dashing knight.”

Celia beamed at her aunt and then heard the sound of someone hitting the ground and looked to the field to see that it was her uncle who was unseated. 

Celia clapped happily. 

“I want him to be my knight,” she told her aunt. 

“He is not yet a knight, my dear, and you are far too young.”

—

But he was knighted. 

“And I will grow older,” she told her aunt, which merely made the woman laugh.

Chapter Text

Tywin listened as the maester droned on and on about the history of some of the more recent wars. He spoke of knights and soldiers as well. 

Princess Celia was looking at the maester with rapt attention. She looked as though the information they were being given would be useful to her. 

Lord Steffon was scribbling away, but Tywin doubted it was notes he was writing. Perhaps sketches. 

Prince Aerys was paying attention at least. He was actually taking notes and Tywin wondered if the prince’s cousin was merely trying to copy him. 

Tywin paid attention, even if he was very bored. 

However, as he listened, a thought came to mind. 

He could become a knight. 

A knight was a way that he might be able to make a name for himself independent of his father and House Lannister. 

If he became a knight… 

He would prove himself to not be like his father. He would be a man of honor and prestige. 

Tywin was interrupted from his thoughts when the princess shot her hand up in the air. She was out of her seat, balancing on the desk with her other hand, her toes straining to make her hand as high as possible despite no one else raising their hand to compete with her. 

—

There was a grand feast and Tywin was to be the king’s cupbearer. He was to face the humiliation of it all. 

“My dear, you are much beloved,” the queen said. “Perhaps Lord Tywin would enjoy spending the evening with those his own age?”

The king took hold of the queen’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “You are absolutely right, my dear. Young Tywin, you are free to do as you wish. Join my grandson and his set.”

“Thank you, your grace,” Tywin said, bowing his head. 

He made his way to where Aerys was speaking with his sister and cousins. 

The prince smiled and waved at him. “Tywin, it’s good to have you. Now, Steffon and I are no longer at even numbers with the girls.” He smirked. “They are outnumbered.”

Princess Rhaella rolled her eyes. “You are being absolutely ridiculous. What would you be outnumbered on? You are boys and have more power anyway.”

“Celia is in lessons,” Steffon said, scowling and Tywin felt as though he had stepped into a longstanding argument. 

“She should not be,” Princess Rhaella said flatly. 

“At least she is more knowledgeable than Aunt Jenny,” Aerys said. 

The children all snickered and glanced at their aunt and Tywin saw that the woman had actual flowers in her hair. Not a flower crown made of silver or gold or even copper, actual living flowers. Princess Celia might be able to get away with such things because she was a child. Jenny of Oldstones was a woman grown and looked ridiculous, no matter how much her husband smiled and paraded her around the room like a queen in her own right. 

“Aerys,” Princess Celia said. “I want to dance.”

The older prince rolled his eyes and looked at Steffon and Tywin. “One of you should dance with Rhaella. I do hate dancing, but if my little sister insists.”

Aerys guided his younger sister to the dance floor and Tywin glanced at the other princess. 

“I don’t need to dance,” she said when Steffon’s gaze landed on her as well. “I would prefer not to encourage any whispers. I shall wait for Aerys. If Celia gets one dance then so do I.”

Tywin glanced at Steffon who seemed to be used to such things. 

—

My dearest Tywin,

I miss you so much, my sweet boy. I know you believe yourself to be a man grown, but you shall always be a boy in my eyes. It is the curse of motherhood, I suppose. You would be in your thirties and I would still view you as the beautiful boy that was placed in my arms the day you were born. 

I miss you so very much, and wish that you were here. I wish your father had not sent you away, but I have no words that I can use against your father. 

Oh, I miss you my boy. I hope that you might write to me soon and we might soon be reunited. 

Your Mother 

—

“Ser Barristan,” Tywin approached the younger knight. He was young, true, but a good one. And he was older than Tywin at the very least. 

“Yes, my lord,” the knight answered. 

“Would it be possible for you to train me to be a knight?” Tywin asked firmly. 

Ser Barristan looked surprised. “You are only ten.”

“And you are only sixteen.”

That got the knight to laugh. “Aye, I suppose I am only sixteen. However, I did not begin training properly until I was twelve. If we are both here in two years, I shall happily train you.”

Chapter Text

Celia was to travel with her aunt Rhaelle and her uncle Ormund. They were to visit Dragonstone. Celia’s father was too unwell to travel in such stormy weather and no one liked to ask Uncle Duncan to do anything, especially because Aunt Jenny would be asked to come along. 

They were to go to Dragonstone to see to the ancient keep’s care, as well as tend to the matters of the people living on the island still. 

Celia was allowed to go with them as she wanted to see the library and her aunt thought it would do her some good to see some of the world. Aerys and Rhaella had been offered the chance to come as well, but Celia’s brother wanted to stay with his new friend and her sister did not care for Dragonstone in general. 

Celia wanted to go though and her aunt and uncle were happy to have her come along. 

The ocean air was salty and stung at her face as the wind blew it up the cliffs. 

Dragonstone was a beautiful keep, made of black stone that shone in the sunlight. 

This is where the dragon lord of old once flew. 

“Settle in for a moment before we have supper, my dear,” her aunt said. 

“Thank you!” Celia said as she watched the servants put her clothes away and she had a cold bath to freshen up from the journey. 

She changed into a blue dress, not having to wear black or red since she wasn’t home. It was pretty, with a red dragon curled around the hem of her skirt like it was sleeping. 

It was fun, being away from her family, however briefly. It felt like an adventure. 

“Look at you,” her uncle said when she came down to supper. “You look like a princess.”

She giggled. “I am a princess.”

He grinned at her and picked her up in his arms. Celia squealed in delight as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, his beard scratching at her skin. Laughing at her reaction, he rubbed his chin along her cheek and she continued to laugh. 

“Oh, Ormund, put her down,” her aunt laughed. 

“Save me, Aunt Rhaelle!” Celia cried as she was put down. She rushed to her aunt and hid her face into her skirt, hiding her smile. 

“Now, if we all behave, we can sit down and eat.”

“Yes, general,” Uncle Ormund said, saluting her aunt proudly. Steffon imitated his father. 

Her aunt laughed and brought them all to the table to eat. 

—

Dragonstone was a maze. 

The way the world seemed to turn on its head to match the storms that welcomed the Stormlord and his family to the island. 

The whole keep was alight with fire to brighten the dark stone that seemed to absorb all light. 

Celia and Steffon tried to discover all the places they could, a servant followed after them to make certain that they did not get lost. 

The two of them held hands so they wouldn’t get lost either. 

—

“Children!” her aunt called. “Don’t wander off!”

“Okay!” they called. 

They ran along the sand, hot beneath their bare feet, as the sun shone down on them. Celia had her arms spread like dragon wings, Steffon laughing and running behind her. They ran through the beach, not fearing anything. They were dragons and he was a stag as well. 

“Look!” Celia said with a gasp. There was a crack into the cliff. “A cave!” She ran up to it, feeling the cold air blow through. “I want to go inside.”

Steffon looked back. “I could get my father to fetch a servant to get us a light.”

Celia nodded and Steffon ran back. 

It only took a few moments for her aunt and uncle to come. Uncle Ormund carried a torch. 

“I want you children to hold onto me,” he said firmly. “No wandering off. Hold onto my cloak and, if it gets too cold, I want you under my cloak as well.”

The children nodded and Celia’s uncle walked them into the cave, her aunt behind them. 

“My brothers and I would explore this place,” her aunt said. “It’s beautiful the further in you go.”

They found a large cavern with black crystals along the wall. In the firelight it looked like stars. Celia huddled under her uncle’s cloak, her eyes wide in wonder. “What is it?”

“Dragonglass,” her aunt said. “It’s a hard crystal to work with, but it makes beautiful daggers and jewelry.”

Celia reached out to touch the stone, cool to the touch and dazzling. 

They went further in and found another cave that had white drawings sprawled against the stone. Circles and swirls in varying sizes and patterns. There were figures of red men and white figures in battle. 

“The people of the island say it depicts a battle a long time ago,” her aunt said. “Before even the Targaryens came. Perhaps even before the Andals came.”

Celia looked at the drawings in fascination, wishing she could know more. 

—

Her aunt showed them the few dragon skulls that had made their way to Dragonstone over the years. 

The bone was like stone itself. 

Celia could not imagine ever riding a dragon, she could not imagine having that sort of power. 

Chapter Text

The prince was an interesting person. He was smarter than many people seemed to comprehend. The first thing people noticed about him was that he smiled a lot. It was like he knew that his expression could disarm anyone in his path just as well as a sword might. He used it to his advantage too, and Tywin reaped part of the reward. 

The prince had graciously gotten them extra sweets from the kitchen with his charms and Tywin wasn’t about to say no to them. 

The prince would make a good king, with maturity. Much better than his father. 

Prince Jaehaerys seemed to be a kind man, but he was weak and sickly. So much so that he was rather ill at the moment and they had sent the youngest princess away in hopes that she would not be subjected to see her father’s weakened state. 

Prince Aerys was someone Tywin could use to his own ends. 

However… he could not deny that he felt more at ease around Aerys than he ever had before, even with his brothers. Aerys was near his equal and at least did not treat Tywin as though he were just anyone. 

Tywin wondered if this is what it was like to have a friend. 

He had never had a friend before. People did not respect his father enough to deem Tywin to have any sort of power to encourage their children to go out of their way to speak to him. Aerys did not seem to view him that way. 

Something in his chest twisted. 

It was an uncomfortable feeling, but he almost liked it. 

—

The next thing he received from the West was a picture by Genna. It was a picture of him, apparently. He was only able to tell because Kevan had written him a short note saying that it took forever for their little sister to draw it and that he needed to write to her and compliment her accomplishments. 

Tywin rolled his eyes but planned to write the letter anyway. 

His sister was only seven and there would be room for improvement in her artistry. He did feel touched that she had felt the need to draw him and that she had used the correct colors, instead of resorting to a more unique coloring. Poor Kevan was once given blue hair. The picture Genna had sent at least had yellow hair and green eyes. 

My precious sister (and to my younger brother who shall read this aloud), 

I thank you, Genna, for your picture. I will make sure to show it off somewhere in my room. Although I have not seen what sort of artist the youngest Targaryen princess is, I am sure that you are the superior one, even if you two are the same age. 

I miss you terribly and I hope that I am able to return home and see you soon. 

Yours,

Tywin 

PS. Thank you for telling me what the picture was, Kevan. Write to me yourself soon. You don’t need to use Genna as an excuse to figure out how I am doing.

—

Tywin received no word from his father at all, and he didn’t care. He was ashamed to call the man his father and hoped that he never tried to contact Tywin while he remained in the Red Keep. He was an embarrassment. 

Even though he never heard the Targaryens say anything, there were men from the West that sneered at Tywin and he knew it was because of the pathetic person his father was. 

His father had insulted all the West when he announced Genna’s betrothal. It was one thing for her to be married into a great house of Westeros, it would give everyone the understanding of why a house of the West was not honored with such a marriage. However, his father had chosen the Freys. The bloody Freys that no one likes. Genna wasn’t even to marry Walder Frey’s eldest son and hero—although who knew who would even be the heir in that family, full of bastards and half brothers all vying for the attention of their father who only cared how young his brides could be. 

It sent a child down Tywin’s spine. He supposed a marriage to the son was better than the marriage to the father. He shuddered again. 

At least his mother wrote to him. 

My lionheart,

How I miss you. Please write to me soon. I have missed being able to wake you and give you kisses. You are my precious lion, my son. 

And I beg that you write to your father so that you might be able to come home soon. I know you are not the sort of person to beg, and I doubt you enjoy being a cupbearer, so please, write your father and come home. His anger has simmered and I am sure if you write to him, he will allow you to come back. 

Your mother 

Tywin frowned. His father had not even written him so he doubted that his father’s anger had cooled. So he would not ask to come back. He wrote a short note to tell her he wished to remain in King’s Landing and that he had made friends. It was a stretch, he had only made the one, but still. His mother would stop asking him to return if she thought he had multiple.

He would return when he had enough power and backing to better control his father and give his mother and siblings a better life. 

The next letter he received was from Joanna. 

Tywin,

The Rock is not as exciting without you around. I am still trying to speak to my father about taking us to the Red Keep so that my brothers and I might see what the crownlands are like, but I want to just see you. I will write you as soon as he gives his permission. 

I miss you,

Joanna

Tywin felt something strange skip in his chest and he had to force himself not to smile. He rubbed his thumb against Joanna’s name and wrote her back immediately. 

—

Tywin and Aerys sat on the balcony, hanging their legs between the pillars as they watched the knights below practice. 

“My little sister wants that new knight, Barristan, to be her knight,” Aerys said, making a face. “She thinks he’s handsome. I don’t see it though.”

“She’s also only seven so handsome to her just means he doesn’t look like you,” Tywin said. 

Aerys snorted and shoved Tywin with his elbow. “Probably. She’s lucky, in a way.”

“What’s that?”

Aerys frowned. “My aunt, Jenny, she brought a wood witch with her when she married my uncle.” The prince snorted again. “At least she wasn’t stupid enough to think that marrying the crown prince of the time meant that she would become queen. But anyway, the wood witch, you’ve seen her, the short old woman, she told Celia that true dragons don’t burn and then she told my grandfather that a supposed prince that was promised, whatever that means, would be born from Rhaella and I since Jenny wasn’t to be queen.”

“And your grandfather believed her?”

“Yeah. So I’m to marry Rhaella when we’re older. I’ll try to be a good husband to her like my father is to my mother, but it stinks that they and my aunt and uncles all got to marry for love, even my grandfather got to, but Rhaella and I have no choice. I keep hoping that someone will see that this is a mistake and change it, but it’s not as though I know any other girls besides my other sister. I’m just jealous, I suppose, that Celia might get a choice. She’s always been our father’s favorite.”

“Maybe something will change in the future?” Tywin suggested 

Aerys merely sighed. “Maybe. Hopefully.”

Chapter Text

They were recalled to King’s Landing. 

Celia threw herself into the arms of her parents as soon as she was helped down from the carriage. 

Her parents stroked her hair and peppered her cheeks with kisses. Even though she would never officially say it, she loved being the baby in moments like this.  She loved their affection. 

She went to hug her brother, who kissed her cheek as well, and then her sister. 

King’s Landing had not changed at all since Dragonstone, but Celia so desperately wished she had never left. 

Even if her parents and family never said anything, she knew that she had been sent away because her father had gotten ill again. Her father had always been I’ll and Celia did not understand why she must always be sent away. She wanted to take care of her father too, just as her brother and sister did. 

It was unfair that she was sent away and they are not. 

—

“It was not as bad this time,” Rhaella assured her. However, she looked just to the side of Celia’s face and she knew that she wasn’t telling the complete truth. That was how Celia and Aerys both could tell their sister was lying. 

Celia glanced at Aerys, who was very purposefully staring up at the ceiling, glaring at it really as though it personally offended him. He didn’t want to lie to her either, it seemed. 

“But I was sent away,” Celia said firmly. 

“Because if father is gone, mother will not long survive him.”

“Aerys!” Rhaella hissed. 

“It’s true. She doesn’t love any of us more than she loves him. And you are the youngest and not the one who will be king or queen. Aunt Rhaelle would be the one to take care of you after…”

“Don’t be cruel, Aerys.”

“I’m not.”

Celia fidgeted in her seat. She did not like when her siblings acted older than they were. She did not like when they acted like adults and she was a child. She knew she was. But they were too.

They were all children playing a game with rules they weren’t allowed to know. 

—

Celia sat at the high table with her family for the feast. It was delicious and she was happy to be in the company of her family, but she felt there was something withdrawn about it all. 

But she was not allowed to stay for long. The feast would run too late and they were all too young. 

—

Celia leaned against the balcony and watched as the adults danced. She could not wait to take part one day. Although she wanted to be a maester, she so longed to be old enough to dance. 

Chapter Text

Tywin received a gift from his father. It was a sword that he would not be able to properly use for a few years yet. It was too long for him and he could not risk looking a fool by pretending to be a man that he was yet to be. 

It was a beautiful sword. It was no Brightroar, but it appeared that his father at least wanted his heir to have a good sword whenever he was allowed to start his training. 

He wondered how it would be to run his own father through, take House Lannister and maybe protect his sister from a marriage that was beneath her. Perhaps protect his mother from humiliation. 

But he could never be a kinslayer. He could never allow himself to fall so very low. 

The sword had a solid gold handle with a ruby on the hilt. The sword was made of the best steel, no doubt. But it was not Valyrian. His father’s greatest disgrace was that when he was a younger man he had not been able or allowed to go and search for the sword. 

In his father’s drunken stupors he would say that it had been his destiny and it had been ripped from his fingers. 

Tywin ran his fingers along the flat slide of the blade. He would become a true knight with this sword and a better man than his father could ever be—ever was. 

—

My dearest mother,

I am well. I miss you and I promise to come home when I can. However, I am making good friends here. 

Write to me often and tell me how the others are. 

I love you, Mother. I wish you could come and visit me instead. 

Tywin 

He addressed the letter to his mother Ned sealed it. Then he wrote to his siblings. 

Kevan and Genna,

I have attached more ribbon for Genna. They are not Lannister gold, but they are a pretty color with veins of red woven with them. 

Kevan, I have found a sheet of music you might like. It’s popular in the capital and I think one of the princes enjoys playing it. 

Write to me soon and know that I miss you. 

Tywin

He then wrote to Joanna, a slight blush creeping across his cheeks as he did so. 

My dear cousin,

I have attached a ribbon of red that I think would look lovely in your hair. 

I hope that you find it as pretty as I do, for I think it matches you perfectly. 

Write me soon. 

Yours, 

Tywin

—

The king watched Tywin carefully as he moved his cyvasse piece with much thought. 

“You are very good at this game, even for your age,” he said. 

“Thank you, your grace.”

The king moved another piece and won. Tywin’s lips formed a slight pout. “A few years time and you would make an excellent strategist.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

The king laughed. “None of my children are overly fond of this game, nor are my grandchildren old enough to find its enjoyment. If you would like to meet me here once a week, I would be very thankful for the occasional game.”

“I would be honored, your grace.”

The king’s smile widened. “Good. Then the games are set. I wouldn’t be surprised if you serve my grandson when he is king.” He leaned forward and cupped his cheek as he looked at Tywin intently. “It might not have been your father’s intent, but I have grown very interested in your future, young lord. I can imagine great things for you and I intend for you to be a very important piece when it comes to the future of my house.”

Tywin bowed his head. “It would be my honor, your grace.”

—

Aerys was truly becoming more of a companion. A friend. Tywin had uses for him, but he was becoming a friend. And Steffon seemed to integrate himself just fine. Although he had a distinct dislike of Tywin at times. 

“Ignore him,” Aerys told him one day. “Celia loves blonde hair and his hair is as dark as night. He doesn’t like Ser Barristan either because she thinks he’s handsome.”

“Are there plans for them to get married?” Tywin asked. 

“No, he and Celia will be used to make alliances outside the family since Rhaella and I cannot.”

Chapter Text

Celia was turning nine. She was nine. She smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her dress was a beautiful red with black embroidery of a dragon sleeping around the hem of her skirt and black flames dancing across the bodice. 

She was practically an adult now. Nine. She was nine and her grandfather was throwing a big feast for her. She was the youngest of his grandchildren and the youngest of the Targaryens. She was the baby of the family and she hoped that she might be able to ask her grandfather if she might be able to become a maester. A blush spread across her cheeks. Or… she could ask if Ser Barristan could become her knight since she was now an adult. 

Celia’s grandmother had even allowed her to wear a white veil. Her hair was carefully braided and a silver circlet was placed on her head to hide all of her hair under the veil. 

She looked like a proper Targaryen princess now. 

Her mother set her hand on Celia’s shoulder. 

“You look beautiful, my little dragon,” she said. “So very beautiful and I am so very proud of you.”

Celia smiled. “Will Father be escorting me?” 

“Yes, of course. Only a king or crown prince is worthy to escort such a beautiful princess.”

Celia blushed even more proudly as her mother kissed her cheek. “My beautiful beautiful dragon.”

—

Celia blushed as her father escorted her into the great hall. There were so many people there. There were plenty of people she didn’t know but she knew that not all of them were there for her. She knew that royal namedays were not always for the child, but for the family. But she was the youngest Targaryen and Aerys and Rhaella were going to be married within three more years. 

They would be young, but most Targaryens did. They had to. Celia would possibly be married in four years time when she was thirteen. Perhaps the man she married would be at the feast. It was not going to be her brother, obviously. Or Steffon. She wouldn’t be allowed to marry another Targaryen. She sort of hoped it would be the knight, Ser Barristan. 

Celia was escorted to the head table, where she sat next to her grandfather in the place of honor, on the other side was her father and she smiled as her father pulled her chair out for her. She looked around at the sea of faces and down the side of the table to look at her brother and sister and cousin. 

She felt like such an adult. 

Her grandfather rose and lifted a glass to the crowd who all raised a glass to their king. 

“To my youngest grandchild and the future she holds for our house and those who might find favor in her. To Princess Celia!”

“To Princess Celia!”

—

Celia danced with her grandfather first. He was the king and the one who should always open the dancing. He let her sand on his toes as he moved them around the room, everyone giving them space to twirl. He even lifted her in the air and spun her around. Celia giggled in delight. 

She danced with her father next. Her father could not dance with her as swiftly or as much as her grandfather could. But it was nice, dancing with her father, even if she could not stand on his feet. 

She danced with her Uncle Duncan next. He carried her in his arms the entire time, spinning them around and around as she was laughing. She liked her uncle a lot more than she liked her Aunt Jenny. He was fun at least, especially because he was free of the burdens that weighed upon her father. 

She danced with her Uncle Ormund. He was the same as her Uncle Duncan. He spun her around with laughter like thunder and she felt her cheeks begin to hurt, she was smiling so much. 

Then she danced with Aerys. Aerys was closer to her height and she was able to dance more naturally. She wondered, briefly, what it would have been like to be the one to marry her brother, but she couldn’t even fathom the thought. She couldn’t even imagine marrying her brother and being his wife. He was her brother. She knew Rhaella felt the same. 

Next she danced with Steffon. She was a little taller than him and he let her lead and the two of them erupted in a fit of giggles as they danced. 

—

“Young Tywin,” her grandfather said. “Come, why don’t you dance with my granddaughter.” 

Celia looked up and saw the king place a hand on the young Lannister’s shoulder. He looked uncertain and slightly annoyed. “Of course, your grace,” he said. Tywin stepped closer to her and offered her his hand. “May I have this dance, Princess?”

Celia hesitated for a moment and glanced at her grandfather who merely smiled and nodded at her. She looked back to Tywin Lannister and nodded and reached out and took his hand. She curtsied slightly as their hands touched and he bowed slightly. He took them out to the dance floor and he began to spin her around precisely. He was at a better height than Aerys was when it came to dancing. 

He didn’t talk to her as they danced. But he was… a really good dancer. His hand slid to her back and he pulled her closer to him and Celia felt like her breath caught in her throat. 

She wondered for a moment if this was what her mother felt when she danced with Celia’s father. 

Chapter Text

Tywin grinned as he swiped Aerys’ wooden sword from the prince’s hand. Even though they were a year apart and Tywin had been practicing more seriously, at twelve, Aerys was ridiculously good at the sword. So, when Tywin managed to beat him it was a triumph. 

“You got me,” Aerys said, holding his hands up. 

The prince didn’t care much for fighting. He prefered to exchange academic blows with Aerys than steel ones. Steffon, who was nine, preferred to watch the older boys, shouting out random encouragement when they spared to whoever was winning. 

Tywin wiped the sweat from his brow. “Do you think Ser Barristan will train me soon?”

“I don’t see why not,” Aerys replied. “As long as he isn’t too busy with Celia. She’s been a right pain since he’s been commissioned as her guard. I love my sister but she makes her affections so plain, I feel a little sorry for him.” He looked at Steffon. “What’s the tally now?”

“He’s got three paper flowers this past week and one of Celia’s embroidered handkerchiefs.”

Tywin grimaced. The princess was not… the best at embroidery. She had attempted to make a lion for his nameday and it had wound up looking… phallic. Aerys had thought it hilarious. Not so much when Celia had made one for him that looked like three shafts connected at the base. Rhaella had privately and quietly fixed them just slightly so they didn’t look too bad if spotted in decent light. 

He wondered what Ser Barristan got. He wondered if perhaps the princess actually worked harder on her embroidery for someone she was obviously interested in. Even if the knight in question was twice her age. 

“Have you been able to talk your parents into supporting you and Princess Rhaella not marrying?” Tywin asked. 

“No,” Aerys replied. “They think that just because they fell in love means that surely Rhaella and I will. And then Aunt Jenny’s stupid wood witch keeps saying how our child is destined for something great. Blah blah blah. The wood witch hates us because she wanted Jenny to be queen. Only Grandfather would never allow it and Uncle Duncan stepped down so now my father is going to be king.”

Tywin nodded. He had seen the two Targaryen siblings together. There was affection, sure, but not any sort of romantic love. It was unfair that they would have no say. Save for Princess Rhaelle, the generation between his friend and the king had all married for love. They had broken betrothals and tradition, sure. But they had been allowed to marry for love. While Aerys and Rhaella had absolutely no say and were forced to marry each other. It felt as though the Targaryens swung from one extreme to the next. 

“You still have a couple years,” Tywin told him. “Maybe things will change.”

Aerys snorted. “I doubt it. Targaryens don’t change. They just let the world around them do it.”

—

Tywin was now an older brother once more. His mother had given birth to a boy named Gerion. His siblings told him that the boy was adorable. Well, Kevan and Genna did. Tygett was only five and he simply drew a smile on the scroll to indicate his approval. 

Their mother was feeling unwell but the maester felt like she would make a full recovery. She had never handled pregnancies well, but usually their father would dote on her more than usual, especially because she had given him another son. Tywin wrote briefly to his siblings, but focused his attention on writing his mother. 

Dearest Mother,

I write to you to congratulate you on my new baby brother. I am told that he is adorable, but considering we are your children it is obvious that we would either be born handsome or beautiful. 

Kevan says you also feel unwell. Alongside this letter, I am sending you some tea that the queen recommends. She heard me speaking with the maester about how you felt unwell and she sends her regards and offers some of her favorite tea. She says she always felt better after birth after drinking it. I have I closed a small note from her as well as instructions on how to make the tea. 

I hope that I am able to return to you soon for a short amount of time before I return. I am to squire under Ser Barristan Selmy soon and I hope to make you very proud in my eventual knighthood. 

I hope to see you soon. I have already written Father to ask if I might be able to come for part of the summer. He has not replied to me, but I pray that we might be reunited soon. Perhaps he will allow it this time because it would allow me to see my new brother as well. 

I love you, Mother, and have lit candles to the Mother for you and the baby. I shall write you soon. 

Yours,

Tywin

—

Tywin ate his food as he watched Prince Jaehaerys and his wife dance gracefully across the room. Despite the crown prince’s weak body, he always made certain to dance beautifully with his wife, showing off the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, as though she were the Maiden herself. Even though he was upset on behalf of his friend that they were forcing their children to marry those they didn’t want to, he could not help but admire the love that was shared between them. 

It was nothing like his parents’ marriage. His parents had married because it was the will of their parents—which wasn’t unusual, but they usually didn’t force people to marry their siblings. His parents weren’t exactly loveless, but they might as well have been. His father couldn’t appreciate his mother. And his mother made herself small to accommodate his father’s personality. 

She deserved more than that. 

“Might we dance?” Princess Rhaella said beside him. “The king wishes for Aerys and I to dance, but he didn’t specify with who.”

Tywin glanced at his friend and saw that he was leading a beaming Celia out onto the dance floor. He stood and bowed to the princess. “Of course, your grace,” he said and offered her his arm. 

He led Princess Rhaella out to the dance floor and began to guide her around the floor. She was an excellent dancer and closer to his height so he didn’t mind dancing at all. He even smiled a little, allowing them both to get lost in the music. He wished things were different. He wished that none of them had to deal with the fall out of their parents’ decisions. 

They deserved some freedom too. And if, for a few minutes, they could have freedom by merely dancing, then why wouldn’t they?

—

Tywin was woken in the middle of the night by a servant. He was too tired to remember who it was, but he was given a scroll and a candle was lit. 

For a moment, he wanted to blow out the candle and just read the scroll in the morning. However, as his eyes adjusted, he saw that the lion seal of House Lannister was pressed into black wax instead of red. 

Someone had died. 

Tywin’s mind became instantly alert as he broke the seal and unfurled the parchment. 

Had his little brother died? Had someone else? Why would they send a letter so urgently if it wasn’t his new brother or perhaps even his father? 

Lord Tywin ,

He recognized the hand of his father’s steward and a mix of dread and calm mixed in his belly. 

I am sorry to inform you that your mother died this night. 

The rest of the letter became a blur and he Dís not even bother to read it. The words echoed in his mind. Louder and louder until it matched his raging heartbeat. 

Your mother died. 

Your mother died. 

Your mother died. 

Tywin rubbed his eyes and brought the candle closer. He had read that wrong. No. It was impossible. He had read it wrong. 

Your mother died. 

Your mother died. 

Your mother died. 

No. No, she was alive. She had to be alive. She had to live long enough to see him become Lord of Casterly Rock. Long enough for him to give her all the respect she deserves as Lady of the Rock that his father never gave her. 

Your mother died. 

Your mother died. 

Your mother died. 

Tywin’s body began to grow numb as he stared down at the scroll. His mother was dead and he hadn’t been with her. Had she been alone? Had his father left her alone? Tears began to slide down his cheeks, blotting out the ink and staining the words, blurring them until the hateful words that told him an unwanted truth that would never leave him were nothing but wet ink on parchment. 

Your mother died. 

Your mother died. 

Your mother died.  

His vision grew blurry, but he could see the end of the letter and he let out a bitter cry. 

Your father says there is no need for you to come. 

Chapter Text

The entire keep was hectic. Even at twelve, when everything seemed to drag on forever, Celia felt like the Red Keep swirled around in a tizzy as they prepared for the tourney and the wedding. 

She could hear the lords whispering about how young Aerys and Rhaella were when it came to their upcoming marriage. Not Aerys, perhaps. He was fifteen after all, and even Tywin Lannister didn’t have a betrothal contract yet. Rhaella, was only thirteen, however. A year older than Celia. She wondered if she would be asked marry next year. But she did not have any sort of boy lined up for her to marry. Her grandfather seemed to have plans, but he shared them with no one. 

He had enough plans that he did not seem to have any thought of ending. Aerys and Rhaella didn’t wish to marry. It was obvious to everyone that they didn’t want to. 

Celia tried to spend as much time with her siblings, specifically Rhaella. Once they were married, they would take part of different things that Celia, being a child and unmarried, would not be welcomed in. Even now, Rhaella began to make more friends. 

One of the women was the heir toDorne, Princess Nymeria Martell. To be fair, Celia wanted to spend plenty of time with the woman as well because of the sweet babe at the woman’s breast. 

Little Elia Martell was only one and the most adorable baby Celia had ever seen—not that Celia had seen many babies. There was an older boy, but he spent time with his father. 

Celia was not able to do much help with the sewing of the maiden cloak or with the wedding dress. Her mother and Princess Nymeria were the ones who did most of the work alongside Rhaella. 

Celia spent time looking after the baby. She liked taking care of the baby. Her mother and grandmother said she made a natural mother, the way she cuddled to the sweet babe and sang to her. 

Celia knew she would never become a maester and knew that she would be made to get married. 

She thought of Ser Barristan. He was twenty-one, and so much older than Celia. But she felt that she would be happy to marry someone like him. Someone with golden hair and clear eyes. 

She hoped that she would be able to find love. And she prayed that her siblings might find move in their marriage as well. 

—

Celia trailed after her sister and mother as they ordered about the preparations for the Red Keep. Women, as always, were in charge of the pretty things and the men were in charge of preparing the tourney. 

Her brother was excited for the tourney, Rhaella seemed to be as well. Neither were excited for the wedding though. 

Celia wished that she could stop it. She wished that she could speak reason to her father and grandfather. Her parents had married for love and had been much older when they married. Why couldn’t Aerys and Rhaella have that?

—

“I’ve tried to talk to Grandfather,” Aerys told Celia as she visited him in his solar. “I’ve tried to tell him that we are too young. That Rhaella deserves a better man, that perhaps I could marry a lady of a different house to gain us more allies. But he has refused.”

Celia sat beside him. “Who would you marry, if you could?”

“I don’t know. Not Rhaella. She is too kind to be queen, to rule shrewdly like Grandmother does.”

“She is like Mother.”

“And it is as I say with Rhaella. Mother was never meant to be queen. Father was not meant to be queen. But Aunt Jenny cannot be queen either. This is no song where a peasant of unknown origins might rise so high.”

Celia nodded. “Who do you think Grandfather will have me marry? Has he told you?”

“Father does not know either,” he brother said. “But I think Grandfather has an idea. If I could, I would say Steffon would be the safest option. He’s a good kid your age and is someone we can trust. But I feel like the king will wish to accomplish two things with our marriages. With mine and Rhaella’s it’s to keep the bloodline pure. Which is pointless as there are no dragons to keep in check. With yours it is to make alliances. With who, I don’t know.”

Celia nodded. “You will make a good husband,” she said. “Even if you do not love Rhaella as Father loves Mother, you still love her as a brother loves a sister and I know you will do your best to make her happy.”

Aerys smiled. “I hope to be as good a man as you seem to think I will be.”

Celia hugged him. “You will be a king that the world remembers.”

Her brother laughed and hugged her back. “That isn’t always a good thing.”

“For you it will be.”

—

Celia didn’t like the wood witch. She never did. She did not like how her words curled around the king. She made it seem like Rhaella and Aerys had to get married. 

She also didn’t like what she said about Celia. 

It was like the woman smiled at the fortunes she told. She whispered often to Jenny, who was still as foolish as she had always been. 

And this wedding seemed to please the witch very much. 

Chapter Text

“I don’t want to get married.” Aerys was sitting on one of the benches of the sparring yard, his face in his hands Tywin sat beside him with a grimace. Steffon was on the other side looking extremely worried. 

Tywin didn’t think Aerys was too young for a betrothal, but most people got married when they were sixteen, like he was. So, it would be fine if the wedding had been put off a year. However, Aerys was getting married now and Tywin knew for a fact that Rhaella was too young, being only thirteen. He knew what was supposed to happen between a married couple on their wedding night. 

He shuddered. 

Princess Rhaella was far too young. Far, far too young. 

“Is there no way you can put it off until late?” Steffon said. “I know Mother has been trying to speak to the king on it.”

“And you don’t think I haven’t?” Aerys snapped. He apologized quickly to Steffon before continuing. “It’s Aunt Jenny’s damned wood witch. She said that Rhaella and I need to marry this year.”

“Well,” Tywin said, trying to think. “Would you be able to push back on the consummation of the wedding till next year at the very least.”

Aerys gave a pitiful growl in frustration. “They won’t allow it. They said they would check the sheets and I thought I could maybe cut my hand or something to make it look like o had bedded her. But they are going to have a maester watching .”

“Seven Hells,” Tywin muttered. 

“Maybe you could go run off with someone?” Steffon suggested. “Your parents broke engagements and married each other. Maybe you could go run away and marry someone else?”

“To who? The only ladies even close to my age are Rhaella and Celia. And they did that on purpose. I wasn’t allowed to foster anywhere and the only people brought in was you, Tywin. Why do you think that was?” Aerys sighed. “I’m fucked.”

For once, Tywin had no idea what to do to help his friend. 

—

Dearest Tywin,

I so wish I could come to the wedding to see you. I know that you have written that the prince and princess do not wish to marry, but I still wish I could come to the wedding to see you. I have not seen you, nor heard your voice in years, and I do desperately wish to. 

My father is seeing if it is possible for me to come serve the princess sometime after her marriage so that I might warn that prestige. In truth I wish it so that I might see you again. 

Is it strange to miss someone so much despite hardly having seen them at all for the past few years? 

I do not think so. 

I believe there are some bonds that are formed from childhood and are nurtured through many means. Ours is letters. 

I have kept every single one of your letters to me and I hope that you have kept mine. It is fine if you have not. But know that your letters are important to me. 

I hope to see you soon. 

Yours,

Joanna 

Tywin quickly pulled out a scroll and wrote Joanna back. 

Dearest Joanna,

I do not think it’s foolish to believe fate ties people together by a string where they might be forced to drift a part, but there is something connecting them that will draw two people back together when the time is right. 

I too keep your letters and treasure them as much as I treasure the letters from my mother. 

I continue to hope that this wedding does not happen. However, I hope that if it does not, you are still able to come. 

Yours,

Tywin

—

If anything, this tourney would be fun, despite what it was a prelude to. 

It would be great fun and Tywin was allowed to participate in the archery portion. He was not yet considered ready this year for the jousting. However, the following year he might be able to participate. 

He hoped that perhaps some scandal might happen that the king might think of as an ill omen and postpone the wedding indefinitely. However, Tywin doubted the gods were kind enough to do that. 

—

Tywin was on the defense. Aerys was red in the face from exertion. This was a spar where there was no winner and Tywin wished there was something more he could do. But he has no power. If his father treated him more like the heir he was, he would be able to have some sort of power to dissuade the king from a match that would give him nothing. A betrothal between Kevan and Rhaella would be a wise match. Aerys would be a little difficult, but there were a few ladies in the Vale who would do nicely and, if Tywin remembered correctly, there was a young Stark lady. There had been no Starks to ever marry a Targaryen and that would bring the North more into the fold. 

If he just had more power. If he just had the king or crown prince’s ear… perhaps he would have been able to help his friend. 

Chapter Text

Celia sat next to her sister as they tourney unfolded. Aerys and Tywin were able to participate this year, even if the two were not properly knighted. She was excited to see them participate and knew that it was the only thing that was giving her brother some relief as he hadn’t wanted this marriage either. 

Celia knew, however, that it wasn't Aerys that Rhaella would be focusing on. There was a landed knight who was in his early twenties that she watched. 

Celia had seen Ser Bonifer Hasty flirt with her sister at feasts. Score, but nothing could properly come from it. Not when their grandfather and father would never allow such a disadvantaged match. 

And though Celia wanted her sister to be happy, she had to agree. What could a landed knight offer her? She was a princess and was used to a life of comfort that a mere knight with no other title could give her. 

So while Celia knew her sister would prefer to not be a princess so she would not have to marry their brother, Celia wondered if this fascination with Ser Bonifer was a form of her own rebellion that would not annoy their father and grandfather too much. 

Celia’s focus, however, had shifted to another person. She still watched Ser Barristan, but he was a friend now more than anything. He was much too old for her, but she also could tell that he saw her as a child. She still enjoyed talking with him though and he had even taught her how to use a knife, although it wasn’t as though she carried one around with her. 

The person she was watching—besides her brother—was Tywin Lannister. 

He had grown… very handsome in recent years. His golden hair and green eyes. It made her blush a little at the thought. She even had a slight fantasy of him winning the tourney and crowning her Queen of Love and Beauty—which she knew was a ridiculous thought. 

He had grown so much since coming to King’s Landing. Not just in appearance, but in temperament. He smiled more easily now. He joked with Aerys and gave Steffon pointers in his footwork. 

He even encouraged Celia’s studies, sometimes calling books for her that might challenge her. He even brought her one of his own books last year that held his own annotations. 

It felt so very intimate. 

But she was only twelve and he was sixteen. She doubted he saw her as anything other than Aerys’ little sister. 

But still, it made her heart flutter slightly whenever they were in their lessons and he smirked at her after thoroughly defeating the maester’s debate argument. 

She knew that she would never be as pretty as Rhaella, but she had her brain, and Tywin seemed to admire that. 

—

Tywin lost to Aerys in one of their tilts and the two friends shook hands after. The Lannister heir glanced up at the royal box and grinned up at Celia and winked. She didn’t know if he could see her, so she mouthed thank you . Aerys needed to have his confidence. He needed as much as he could considering everyone’s eyes were on him. 

Celia blushed slightly as she sat back down with Rhaella after clapping. 

“You are turning a rather remarkable shade of crimson,” Rhaella said. 

“It’s the heat, sweet sister,” Celia replied, touching her warmed cheeks. 

“I’m sure.”

It only made Celia’s cheeks burn; they were so flushed. She took out a fan and began to cool herself. “Who do you think will win?”

“I know who I hope to win,” she said. “But I think that Aerys might have it. This is a tourney for younger knights and squires after all. And Aerys is excellent on a horse.”

Celia nodded and took her sister’s hand in her own. “I know he will try to make you happy,” she said. “And I know that they want to make certain the marriage is consummated. But then it can go back to how things were and you two can figure it out without pressure of that getting in the way.”

Rhaella sighed. “I suppose.” She squeezed Celia’s hand. “I hope that you get to marry for love one day. And know that Aerys and I will fight tooth and nail for you so that you can have the initial happiness in marriage that we won’t.”

Celia smiled. “Thank you.”

“Our marriage gives you more freedom. If anything, at least it is one thing my marriage can make certain.”

—

Celia held her mother’s hand as they stood on Rhaella’s side of the altar. The women of their family would stand on her side and the men of their family would stand on Aerys’.  

Her brother looked handsome, but very nervous in his Targaryen black and red. His gaze would shift from the Septon to the king to the doors that Rhaella would come through with their father. 

Celia glanced out to the gallery and saw Tywin’s gaze solely focused on Aerys, concern crossing his features. 

The music began to sound and everyone turned to watch as Rhaella entered the sept in their father’s arm. 

Rhaella was beautiful. Her silver hair was braided up from her neck. Her dress was beautiful as well and Celia knew how many hours had gone into the garment that would only be remembered for a handful of moments by the people around them. 

She looked nervous and as she approached, she could see that her eyes were a little red. She had been crying. 

The wedding continued smoothly and Rhaella was cloaked and pledges were made. 

And soon, Celia’s siblings shared a chaste kiss. 

They were married. 

Aerys whispered something to Rhaella and she gave him a thankful smile and kissed his cheek quickly in thanks for whatever it was that he had said. 

—

The wedding feast was huge. Aerys was the heir of the heir after all. 

Celia watched as her siblings were presented to court as a married couple and were brought to the high table to cut into the wedding pie. Doves were released and they were soon ordered to eat. 

Celia sat beside her mother who was teary eyed as she spoke to their father about how grown their eldest were. 

She didn’t think her siblings were that old and part of Celia felt annoyed. 

Aerys and Rhaella hadn’t wanted this. Couldn’t they see that?

Chapter Text

The fact that they were having a bedding ceremony disturbed Tywin greatly. 

Most of the women in attendance were older and would be more likely to pinch Aerys’ cheeks than anything. But the princess… She was only thirteen. It angered him how some of the lords looked excited. 

Tywin made certain to stick close to his friend and the princess as the bedding was called for. Steffon had done the same. Even though he was much younger and would be rather useless usually in defending his cousin’s honor, he was still the son of a princess. 

Tywin set his hand on the hilt of his sword as he helped escort Rhaella to the marriage rooms that she would share with Aerys. Rhaella, who was usually the picture of everything people felt a princess or lady should be, was trembling and holding Steffon’s hand so tightly Tywin thought she might break it. And her lavender eyes were misty from tears that had yet to be shed. 

Tywin’s chest tightened. She was far too young. And then there was the fact that the consummation would be watched to make sure it happened.

Tywin could only pray that no child came from it and, had it been in his power, he would have given her moontea, but he didn’t. So he couldn’t. 

“Thank you,” Rhaella whispered as she slipped into the room. 

Aerys was in there already, still fully dressed, and he looked just as uncomfortable and near tears as his sister. 

Tywin hated it. He hated this. 

He hated feeling useless. 

He hated feeling powerless. 

He hated that adults had all the power and were making the decisions for all of them, when it wasn’t their lives that would be forever changed because of those decisions. 

—

The wedding feast after the new couple were abed was a rather boring affair. 

Now people just boasted about themselves for being invited to the royal wedding or they used it to make deals and partnerships or arrangements. Others used it as a time to find favor with the king and his heir to see if they could get anything out of his good mood. 

Tywin would normally want to get in on that action. However, he felt uncomfortable and worried about Aerys and Rhaella. None of this was fair. 

“Do you think it’s going to be okay?” Steffon asked. “I know Aerys will always try to do the right thing, but I’m still worried.”

“It’ll be okay,” Tywin said. “Aerys has a good head on his shoulders and I’m sure that he will be able to protect Rhaella as much as he can.”

Maybe he could… pull out? At the end. He heard that was a way to make sure no one got with child. He wasn’t sure. That was what he heard a servant say. 

Tywin groaned. He was woefully uncertain of any of this. He never felt those certain urges and so there was nothing he could do or say to give his friend in the way of advice. 

“I’m worried about Celia,” Steffon admitted. 

Tywin was pulled from his thoughts and looked at the younger boy and then turned his gaze to the youngest princess, who was dancing with Ser Barristan, the height difference a little comical. “Why is that?”

“Well, she’s the last princess and she’s probably going to get a betrothal or marriage soon. And if they married Rhaella and Aerys, who's to say that they won’t marry her to some old lord?”

Tywin grimaced. He doubted it, but the possibility was still there. He hoped that Aerys might have more of a voice by that point in time and be able to argue with his father and grandfather about it. 

Celia just seemed too young. Obviously she was now, but something about her made her seem rather young. Perhaps it was because she was the baby of the family. But he could understand Steffon’s worries. 

Tywin would admit that he was worried too. 

—

“Would you like to dance?” 

Celia looked up at him and her cheeks flushed to a pretty pink. She was a cute kid. Tywin knew that she possibly thought him handsome. Aerys had commented that she liked blond hair, not like Targaryen blond, but golden like Tywin and Barristan’s. It was typical of girls her age to look romantically at people like Tywin. Kevan wrote that Genna did and Tywin was certain Rhaella was the same. 

“Yes,” she answered, taking his offered hand. 

Tywin led her out to the dance floor and led her around the room. He was still taller than her but not as towering as Ser Barristan. 

He spun her slightly and she giggled. 

“Thank you,” she said, then her expression grew a little more serious. “Do you think Rhaella and Aerys are going to be okay?”

Tywin nodded, but took a moment to collect his thoughts. He wanted to reassure her, but at the same time he knew that she deserved some truth, even if he wasn’t sure what that truth was. “They’ll be fine, I think. They aren’t the first couple to marry outside of love and I doubt they’ll be the last.”

Her smile dimmed a little more. “I think my parents are talking about marriage for me.” 

He followed her gaze towards the crown prince and his wife who were speaking with the recently widowed Lord Jon Arryn, who was forty. 

Tywin frowned and gripped Celia’s hand a little more tightly. The man was… decent looking and had a coloring that Celia would appreciate, but he was notoriously a flirt. Tywin was almost certain he had a mistress as well. 

“I’m sure that such a match as that won’t happen.”

She nodded. “Right.”

The song ended.  “Up for another one, Princess?”

Her smile brightened to its normal radiance. “Yes. Thank you.”

—

Tywin stood next to Ser Barristan as he watched the feast continue. Steffon had asked Celia to dance and the two were giggling and managed to swipe some cakes from the food table and ate while they danced. He smiled a little at their antics. 

“We should cherish these moments while they last,” Ser Barristan said. 

Tywin looked up at him. “Is something happening?”

“Some rumors of a group of people across the sea who want to make themselves kings.”

“Is there going to be a war?”

The knight looked grim. “I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

The Red Mountains were like flames upon the horizon. 

The golden palace of Summerhall was so very different from the Red Keep and Celia secretly prefered it. Summerhall was made of white stone, with sections painted gold and the air was so very fresh and clean. There was something about the keep that made it feel as though, when she and Steffon ran through the halls with their arms spread wide, that they were flying. 

Celia was thirteen now and she knew that her family was trying to decide what sort of match should be made for her. There had been talks of Lord Jon Arryn, but Aerys and Tywin had argued profusely on her behalf so that the talks wouldn’t extend beyond the walls of the king’s solar. 

There had been talks of Prince Doran, who was eleven now, but Celia had spent enough time with him to know that they would argue all the time about things and it would be ridiculously annoying.

A part of Celia wanted to get married, but another part of her wanted to remain a maid forever to devote her life to other noble pursuits. 

Like being the best aunt possible. 

Rhaella was heavily pregnant now. 

Her older sister had whispered that she and Aerys had only coupled the one time at their wedding and they had both prayed that no child would come, but it seemed the gods had other plans. 

Her sister was tentatively excited about it, but at the same time, they all knew she was a little young to be having children, even if the other adults said nothing. 

She was only fourteen, after all. 

But Celia did what she could to cheer her sister up and helped her make clothes and things for the baby. 

She was personally excited to no longer be the youngest Targaryen and part of her hoped that some of the attention given to her would shift to the new baby. 

Perhaps it would give her a better chance of not yet being married. 

But it did feel a little lonely. Celia’s mother began doting on Rhaella more, as did their grandmother. Rhaella had grown closer to Princess Nymeria and recently Lady Joanna Lannister had come to serve her as well. 

Rhaella and Lady Joanna had become thick as thieves and Aerys joked that it was good the two hadn’t met before because they would have caused plenty of heartbreak together in the previous feasts. 

The Lannister lady was very beautiful. Golden hair and soft green eyes. She looked like the Maiden reborn. 

Celia wouldn’t deny that she was a little jealous. It almost felt like, little by little, she was losing the life she had come to know. 

—

There was a huge library in Summerhall with different books than there were in the Red Keep. When she wasn’t with her family, she was usually there. 

Reading. 

The books in High Valyrian were always the most interesting. They had been moved from the dampness of Dragonstone almost a century and a half ago, and the lack of salty air like at the Red Keep kept them preserved. 

It was stories of Valyria and dragons. Celia wouldn’t have minded spending days reading, but her family always made sure to drag her from the room to interact with others. 

The person sent that day was Tywin. 

At seventeen, the Lannister heir had only grown more handsome. His golden blond hair was cropped short, away from his face and constantly pushed back with his fingers. So very different from the typical Targaryen style. His dark green eyes were calculating but kind. There was a softness to his gaze that he rarely showed and Celia secretly felt like she was basking in the sun whenever that look came into his eyes because of her. 

She knew it was foolish and that he no doubt thought her to be a child. He treated her as Aerys treated her. 

It still made her blush as he leaned against the table with one hand and pulled the book she was reading from her grip and looked at it. 

“You are going to ruin your eyes,” he said. “The clouds have descended upon the land and you are reading without a candle.”

“I can see just fine,” she said plainly, standing to take the book back from him, but he closed it and held it above his own head, out of her reach. “And the books are delicate. I shouldn’t risk even the smallest flame around them.” She strained up to reach for the book, grasping onto his tunic for leverage. 

Tywin laughed as she continued her attempt to grab the book. She blushed more furiously at that. “Don’t make that face or it will stay like that forever.”

Celia rested back at her heels and crossed her arms and continued to glare. 

He smirked at her, bending down slightly to match her height a little more. “You need fresh air, Princess. I know you don’t have the silver hair of the Targaryens, but it doesn’t mean you should compensate and be as pale as possible.”

“I see the sun,” she pouted. “Besides, you said it was cloudy outside.”

“You cannot shut yourself away forever.”

“And you cannot make me.”

“Ahah,” he said with a click of his tongue. And then, suddenly, he set the book down and picked her up and put her over his shoulder. 

Celia gasped. “Tywin! Put me down this instant!”

“I’ve been given orders, Princess. You already skipped breakfast. By order of the queen I am to use any means necessary to get you to the midday meal.”

“You didn’t even give me the option of walking!”

Tywin merely laughed and carried her over his shoulder out of the library. Celia continued to blush furiously as she slapped his back in annoyance. 

—

Celia helped her grandfather with his papers, feeling a little sleepy after spending too much time with her brother and Steffon and Tywin. She leaned against her grandfather and tried to blink the sleep away. 

“Do you want me to show you a little secret, my little dragon?” her grandfather asked. 

Celia blinked again and nodded, not sure what secret her grandfather could possibly show her, but it sounded interesting and made her feel rather grown up. 

Her grandfather sat her down in his chair and went to get hold of a large trunk. He set it in the desk and opened it. Celia peered inside and her eyes grew wide. 

Dragon eggs. 

She had never seen one in person before, but she had seen sketches and drawings. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch one. Celia glanced at her grandfather, who didn’t seem to mind. The eggs were rough but cold, and yet… there was warmth that seemed to bleed through that coldness. 

“They’re beautiful.”

“And they shall be terrifying,” her grandfather said.

She looked at him with wide eyes. “You are going to hatch them?”

He nodded. “Dragons are needed once more to protect Westeros. My dear, have you heard whispers of the Band of Nine?”

“I heard Tywin and Aerys talk about them.”

“They are seeking to take the throne, although they have yet to act. One of the nine is a Blackfyre and I do not wish for any of you to witness a Dance.” Her grandfather stroked her hair gently. “Dragons would give us an advantage and I hope that it might protect our family and our people. Should we have dragons, it is more likely that we never fear them attempting to start a war. We might have peace.”

Celia touched one of the eggs again. It made her heart thunder slightly in her chest. It made her feel a little queasy. “How are you going to hatch them?”

“It is not for you to worry, my little dragon. You are still so very young and I do not wish for you to know everything. In time, you will understand my plans for you.” He kissed the top of her head. “I promise.”

—

Celia sat with her Aunt Rhaelle as they had a small picnic. Her mother and sister were sitting with the Dornish princess and Lady Joanna. The uncles and father and grandparents were sitting in another group together. Her brother, Ser Barristan, Steffon, and Tywin were playing some sort of game with a ball and Celia blushed as Tywin pulled off his tunic due to the heat. 

Her aunt chuckled. “I see the Lannister heir has caught your eye, little niece.”

The comment only made her cheeks burn more. “He is nice to look at.”

Her aunt laughed then. “Yes, I suppose to a young set of eyes he is a handsome young man. But you must be careful, my little dragon.”

“I have no expectations, Aunt Rhaelle.”

Her aunt’s expression grew a little sad then. She tucked some hair behind Celia’s ear. “Boys like that crave one thing dearest, and even if he is kind, if it comes between what he desires, a boy like that can be cruel.”

Celia blushed and glanced over to see Tywin smiling at Lady Joanna, both their cheeks flush. There was a swooping feeling in her belly and she looked away. “Do not worry, Aunt, I have no aspirations for such things.”

Chapter Text

“How is impending fatherhood fairing for you?” Tywin asked as he sat beside Aerys on one of the many balconies, drinking the night away. Steffon was too you to appreciate wine, but he and Aerys weren’t. 

“We only did it the once and we tried to see if she could get moontea, but the maester ratted us out before we could do anything. We tried to tell our parents that we were too young but they are determined.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m just worried about Rhaella and how her body is handling it. She’s been so tired recently. And she’s sore all over. I’m worried. We aren’t ready to be parents.”

Tywin ran his dinners through his hair as he took another drink. He couldn’t imagine being a father either and he was a year older than Aerys. Fatherhood just felt like something distant. He had too many things he wished to accomplish before then. 

“You’ll be a good father,” Tywin said at last. “I know because you will do everything in your power to be.”

“You sound like Celia.”

“Maybe you should listen to her then.”

Aerys snorted. “I think the world would be a better place if we all listened to Celia. But… she’s the sort of person to always see the good in people.”

“It’s a strength,” Tywin said. 

“And a weakness.”

“Has your family decided on a match for her?” Tywin frowned. “I think at your wedding there were talks of Lord Jon Arryn.”

Aerys huffed. “The only good thing the king has done recently. He told my parents to not be ridiculous. Stopped the talks the same night.”

Tywin nodded. “That’s good then.”

“I don’t want my sister to go through anything that Rhaella or I have to. I want her to have a choice.”

“You deserved a choice.”

Aerys merely took another drink. “We all do.”

—

Tywin glanced at Rhaella. She was practically glowing. He had vague memories of his mother pregnant and knew there were darker sides to pregnancy that most people didn’t see or notice. If Rhaella was suffering through her pregnancy and Aerys said, she was a wonderful actress. She was smiling and laughing with her friends, who included Joanna. 

Joanna. 

Tywin had definitely begun to notice his cousin as more than just her cousin. But she was still only fourteen and he was seventeen. She was still going. But seeing Joanna laughing and whispering with Rhaella made him feel better. Both deserved to have close friends who were not their family. 

Aerys was putting up a good front as well. He was attentive and careful around Rhaella, but gave her the space she seemed to ask for. 

The king, however, seemed withdrawn. Something about his behavior made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He didn’t like it. Something was wrong. He just didn’t know what. 

—

The king soon demanded dancing. It was a celebration, after all. He clapped and ordered the musicians to play and a bright and happy melody began to flow. Tywin stood, ready to ask Joanna to dance, but Steffon had been faster and Tywin didn’t fight it. After all, Steffon needed to socialize with people outside his family, especially since it was apparent that no betrothal between the boy and Celia would take place 

So, Tywin went to Celia and asked her to dance. 

She smiled up at him brightly and nodded. She took his hand and he led her out to the floor. 

“You’ve become a much better dancer,” he told her. 

Celia’s cheeks turned pink and she grinned. “And you have gotten more polite since the library.”

He chuckled. “I would hardly throw you over my shoulder in public.l

She narrowed her eyes. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Well, if you got cranky and I was ordered to take you to bed.”

She gaped at him in mock offense. “I am not a baby.”

“You are thirteen so that’s practically the same thing.”

She slapped his chest lightly and Tywin laughed as the music picked up. He began to lead her into the galloping dance as they moved around the floor. They danced until they were panting and switched partners with Steffon and Joanna and continued in the merriment. 

—

Tywin went to get some food. Joanna was soon beside him. 

“You seem happier here,” she told him. 

“Compared to where?”

“To home. To Casterly Rock.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’re smiling more.”

Tywin thought for a moment. “I suppose it is because the people here acknowledge me in a way my father never has.”

Joanna smiled. She set her hand on his arm and looked up at him with a slight blush upon her cheeks. “You deserve to be acknowledged, Tywin. You are brilliant.”

At that, Tywin blushed, ever so slightly. 

Chapter Text

Celia slapped her cheeks lightly as she prepared for bed. She couldn’t help the fact that she kept thinking about Tywin. Her thoughts drifted to him as naturally as she breathed. He looked so very handsome as he danced with her. The way his green eyes were alight with humor. It felt so very natural. She had danced with others of course, including her brother and cousin, but it was nothing like how it had been with Tywin. 

But she was certain that he was in love with his own cousin, Lady Joanna. 

It made her heart tremble at the thought. He surely loved Lady Joanna, who was pretty and every inch a lady and everything that Celia was not. 

Her thoughts also flowed to her Aunt Rhaelle and her words of wisdom. She could not get her hopes up. She could not wonder or worry about how Tywin might think of her. It wasn’t to be. He was kind to her because he thought of her as a friend or a sister. He saw her as Aerys saw her. 

He did not see her as a lady to be courted or charmed. Celia closed her eyes and wanted so desperately to cry, but she forced the tears down until they settled and she readied herself for bed. 

She combed her hair out and, once more, wished that her hair was Targaryen silver or pale gold. She wished that she looked like Rhaella. She wished that she looked like Lady Joanna.

—

Celia awoke briefly to relieve herself and heard some strange noises outside. But she did not think much of it. After all, she knew there were servants who completed their tasks at night and she was too exhausted to worry about how close to morning it was. 

When Celia was finished, she cleaned herself briefly and rubbed some peppermint oil just below her ears to help her fall asleep again. 

Celia slipped under the covers and slept peacefully into her dreams. 

—

When Celia was a little girl, her grandfather had gathered all his grandchildren together to tell stories of the greatness of House Targaryen. 

He whispered to them about dragons and dragon riders. He used the funny voices too. 

It had gotten them all giggling and shrieking once everything dissolved into him becoming a dragon and chasing them about his solar and picking them up so that they were flying. 

“Don’t burn me!” Celia giggled and her grandfather made huffing and puffing sounds. 

He lifted her into the air and laughed. “My silly little dragon,” he said. “Dragons do not burn.”

—

Celia woke up to the sound of screaming and shouting. She woke up to such an extreme heat that it felt as though she was melting. 

There was fire. Fire everywhere. Fire at the door. 

Panic began to rise and Celia began to scream. She left her bed but cried out in pain as one of her bare feet touched a bit of flame. She scrambled back and looked about her. She went to the window but she was six stories away from the ground. She heard a cracking above her and stumbled back as burning wood and stone collapsed where she had been standing. Celia looked wildly around and tried to think of a way out. 

“Help!” she screamed. “Help me!” She had to get out. She had to get out. “Help me! Somebody help me!”

She began to cough. The window was blocked. The window was blocked and the smoke was building. 

“Someone help me!” Tears began to sting at her eyes. “Mummy! Papa! Aerys! Someone help me!”

Celia screamed as her dresser began to crumble and fall apart. She screamed as a plank of burning wood clipped her shoulder and set her night dress ablaze. 

Celia screamed, the heat burning her skins as she began to rip it off. Her hair caught alight briefly before it stopped as she ripped off her clothes. 

She continued to scream. Her body was in a massive amount of pain. She fell to the ground as she curled in on herself away from the smoke at the fire. 

“Mummy!” She screamed. “Papa! Aerys!” 

She was going to die. She was going to die! 

“Somebody help me!”

Her skin was melting. 

“Somebody help me!”

Chapter Text

The entire keep was blazing. There was so much heat that Tywin could feel it from where he stood. It was like every nightmare melted into one as people screamed and cried and rushed about trying to figure out what was going on. Parts of the royal family were missing. 

Rhaella was screaming. Her water had broken and the babe had decided to come. The midwife was helping her. Joanna and Aerys held her hands and let her squeeze them to the point that Tywin was sure they might break. 

But birth was not what made Rhaella scream. 

“Celia!” the princess cried. “Where’s Celia? Where’s my sister? I need my sister!”

She was crying and Aerys looked ashen even beneath the soot smearing his features. 

“I’ll try to find her,” Tywin promised. “Maybe… maybe she’s on the other side of the keep.” 

He rushed off and Steffon tried to follow behind him. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Tywin shouted. “No, go the other way, we’ll cover more ground that way.”

Steffon nodded, his eyes misty. Tywin hoped he found his parents too. 

Tywin began to run. “Celia!” he roared, so loudly he feared his voice might crack. “Celia! Celia, where are you?!?”

He found Prince Jaehaerys and his wife staring at Summerhall in horror and he rushed to them. 

“Is Celia with you?” he demanded.

The princess began to cry.

“No,” the prince croaked. He coughed, hacking up whatever smoke had found its way into his lungs. “No, we could not… we thought she might be out here.”

“My children,” the princess sobbed. 

“Rhaella and Aerys are in that direction,” Tywin pointed back from where he came. “She’s gone into labor. She needs you.”

They did not speak further and Tywin continued to run. 

“Celia! Celia, where are you?!”

She couldn’t be stuck in there. She couldn’t be dead. She had to be out here where it was safe. Tywin refused to break down, refused to let his screaming muscles stop him from moving until he ran into Steffon. The boy was crying in earnest now. 

“My mother,” he cried. “Father couldn’t save her!”

The boy fell to his knees and Tywin could barely catch him. He eased Steffon to the ground. Tywin looked wildly about him. 

“Take him to Lord Baratheon!” he shouted to someone, perhaps a servant or perhaps another lord. He passed Steffon to the stranger and began to rush off. 

“Where are you going?!” Steffon screamed as he saw Tywin rising towards the blazing keep. 

“I have to find Celia!” Was the only thing he said as he rushed back into Summerhall. 

—

Tywin hurried people towards the exit, people who were leaning and stumbling and covered in singed clothes. Injured. People who hadn’t been able to get out quickly enough. 

“Celia!” he shouted. He made his way up the burning stairs, careful to not touch anything burning. “Celia! Where are you!”

He heard screaming. He heard a girl screaming. 

“Celia!”

He knew where the royal wing was. He prayed it was Celia. He asked the gods for forgiveness for all those he passed by and did not help. 

“Celia!”

—

He began to cough as the smoke continued to build and as the heat made his clothes stick to his skin from sweat. 

“Celia!” 

“Tywin?” 

He could tell she was crying. Her door was ablaze and it made his heart shudder in his chest. “I’m here! Are you away from the door!”

“Y–yes!”

Tywin took a steadying breath and turned to his side and charged. It didn’t take much of his strength to break the already crumbling door down. He found the princess in the ground, curled in on herself. Her body was badly burned and her hair was singed, possibly even shorter than he could notice. 

Without thought, Tywin took off his shirt and wrapped it around the princess’ shoulders, hoping that it might hurt less than him actually touching her. He picked her up quickly after that and raced her out of the burning room, not caring as his own feet began to burn slightly. 

She was sobbing in his arms and trembling. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, uncertain if he could even swear on it. “You’re going to be okay.”

She merely cried in response, her voice raising whenever she was jostled too much.

—

Tywin was able to stumble out of the burning keep with Celia in his arms. 

But she was still. People began to surround them, screaming and shouting for someone to come over. 

Tywin laid Celia on the ground but she didn’t move. She was breathing, but her breaths were shallow and sparse. 

“Celia!? Celia, wake up!” He began to shake her shoulders but he was pulled away as someone, a man who looked like a maester began to look over her. “Celia!”

Chapter Text

Celia awoke to massive amounts of pain all across her body. The maester rushed to have her drink milk of poppy but it would still take time for it to take effect. 

Her left arm was wrapped completely in bandages and her right arm was wrapped from the shoulder to the middle of her forearm. Her chest was wrapped tightly to the point she couldn’t take a full breath. Her face hurt and was bubbling, but it wasn’t wrapped, instead it had a soothing ointment soaking into her skin. She thought one of her legs was bandaged too. 

She hurt all over. 

She slipped in and out of consciousness, and could hear what other people were murmuring around her. She just couldn’t place who it was that was talking. 

…severely burned…

…needs more rest…

…what are we going to do about…

She wasn’t sure where she was anymore. As soon as she would wake in pain she was given more milk of poppy and dragged back down into her slumber. 

She didn’t dream at all. She would simply ease into a painless existence and then wake up to the searing pain of her burns. 

Where was her mother?

Where was her father?

Her grandparents?

Her siblings?

Occasionally she would wake up to someone holding her hand, but she never knew who it was. 

But they were her lifeline. It let her know she was not alone. 

That she was not burning in one of the Seven Hells. 

—

They were returning to King’s Landing and Celia was sequestered away from everyone and traveled with the maester. She was kept on milk of poppy, but the dosage was apparently smaller now. She didn’t sleep as long or as deeplyC but her bandages changed more constantly. 

She still didn’t see her parents and she worried that they were dead. What if they all were dead? 

What if she was all alone now and no one wished to tell her because she was in too much pain. 

She cried. 

She cried and cried and cried until she was too exhausted to stay awake. 

And whenever she was drawn from her forced sleep, she would cry some more.

And then her mother came and held her. Her mother held her as the maester looked her over and Celia felt such comfort there. 

Her mother was alive. Her mother was with her. She closed her eyes and found a more peaceful rest. 

—

Celia was still healing, but she was feeling better. And that was when she met her nephew. 

Celia cried as he was laid down next to her since she couldn’t hold anything, much less any babe, properly yet. 

“He’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Hello, Rhaegar. I’m your Aunt Celia. Oh, Rhaella, he is perfect.”

Her older sister looked exhausted but content. “He is,” she said. “You should see Aerys with him. Our brother utterly adores him. Can’t bear to be too far from him unless he has to be. He even demands he helps change his swaddle clothes.”

Celia smiled. “I was certain he would hate the smell.”

“Oh, he does, but he would rather let me sleep if I am able.”

Celia nodded and continued to stare at her little nephew. His perfect little rosy cheeks and rose petal lips. His soft looking hair. 

Rhaella wasn’t alone in visiting Celia. Princess Nymeria was there as well as Lady Joanna. 

“Lady Joanna,” Celia said softly. 

The older girl curtsied. “Yes, your grace?”

“Could you thank your cousin for saving me?” She asked. “I know that he put himself at risk to get me, but I am unable to see any male visitors yet and I wish to thank him as soon as possible, even if I cannot be the one to thank him quite yet. So, can you give him my thanks.”

The Lannister girl curtsied again. “Of course, your grace. He will be glad to know that you are healing.”

Celia smiled. 

Rhaella picked her son up from beside Celia and kissed her on the crown of her head. “I shall be back to see you later, sweet sister. But you must rest.”

Celia nodded as her eyelids grew heavy. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep after they left. 

—

Her parents began to visit her more frequently as they began to prepare for the coronation. 

Her grandfather had died, along with her Aunt Rhaelle, and her Uncle Duncan. The funerals had already been held and Celia felt lost with that knowledge. 

They were dead and she very well could have died with them. 

Her parents looked worried and Celia wondered what it was they were worried about. 

Her father had always known he was going to be king one day, even if this was sooner than he had anticipated. 

It could only mean they were worried about her. 

But why? Why would they worry about her? She was alive, wasn’t she? What could they be worried about?

Chapter Text

Tywin would never have described Aerys as a physically strong person, but the way he hugged him in that moment was born-crushing. 

Tywin’s heart sank. It either meant one of two things. Either Celia had died or she had lived. His stomach churned and his heart dropped. 

“She’s alive,” Aerys said and relief flooded into Tywin’s chest. Thank the gods. “She’s alive and it’s all thanks to you.”

“How is she?” Tywin asked, pushing Aerys away slightly. He was still sore. He had some slight burns healing on his back. But it was nothing compared to what it had seemed the princess had gone through. 

Aerys’ expression darkened. “She… she’s healing. The maester says her burns were bad, but her movements won’t be too restricted. She’ll just be sore some days, but Father is doing what he can to find medicine and oils and lotions for her. Mother is finding the best sorts of fabric so she won’t have to wear clothes that irritate the skin.”

“But she is well?”

“She is alive thanks to you.”

“I did what anyone would have done.”

“No one did what you did. No one tried. And because of you my sister is alive. My sister is alive and she will be able to have a good long life. I owe you, Tywin.”

“You owe me nothing but your friendship,” Tywin said. 

If he had been brave enough to just rush into the fire… the princess might not have been so hurt. 

—

It was both a celebratory and a somber affair as the people waited in the throne room of the Red Keep for the king to arrive and be crowned. 

No one had thought that there would be a coronation any time soon. 

Decades. Everyone thought there would be decades before another king was crowned. 

But this wasn’t just a somber event because of that. 

Queen Betha stood at the steps, The new queen stood higher upon the steps where she would eventually take her husband’s hand as they walked the rest of the steps to be crowned by the Grand Septon. The late king’s wife was still dressed in mourning. She had lost half her children in a single night. No one blamed her for her mourning. 

Tywin pulled at the hem of his tunic to straighten it. He stood beside his father who had come to swear his allegiances to the new king. His father had hardly acknowledged him other than to proudly exclaim the accomplishments of his son as though they were his own. 

If Tywin were the same boy he had been when his father had sent him away, he would have caused a scene. But he simply ignored his father to the best of his ability. 

He hated it. 

His father wasn’t the cause of who he had become. Tywin was the man he was today because of the Targaryens. 

They all turned to watch King Jaehaerys walk towards the throne. He was dressed in Targaryen regalia. He wore black armor and a red cloak and his silver hair was slicked back. He looked healthier than he usually did, but Tywin was sure the man had rested longer than he normally would and he looked healthier. 

He reached his mother and his wife and bowed deeply to his mother before taking his wife’s arm and making his way up the steps towards the Grand Septon. 

The new queen helped her husband kneel as he was crowned. And then she knelt as well to be crowned. 

“King Jaehaerys!” the crowd cheered. “King Jaehaerys!”

And then it was time for them to swear their allegiances to the new king. Tywin watched as Steffon and his father knelt to the throne and swore their allegiances and he could see the king looked pained. He was, no doubt, thinking that his sister should be there as well. 

A long line of people came to swear allegiance until it was his and his father’s turn. They knelt before the new king. 

“House Lannister once more swears themselves to the royal House of Targaryen,” his father said.

Tywin kept his head bowed. However, instead of being told to rise, Tywin heard the king walk down the steps. 

“A tragedy in my house is the cause of my early coronation,” he said. Tywin looked up and saw the king looking at him. “And there would have been more tragedy still if it weren’t for Lord Tywin Lannister. Due to his bravery, I did not have to lose my daughter, Princess Celia. Lord Tywin of House Lannister,” he said as he drew his sword and placed the blade on his right shoulder. “In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.” The blade changed to his other shoulder and a thrill ran up his spine. “In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. “In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and the innocent. In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women. In the name of the Smith, I charge you to be strong. In the name of the Crone, I charge you to be wise. In the name of the Stranger, I charge you to keep your vows until your death. Arise, Ser Tywin Lannister, Knight of the Seven Kingdoms!”

Tywin blushed and stood as he was asked. A cheer roared above the crowd. None louder than that of the voices of Aerys and Steffon. 

—

“I’m not sure that I should call what we do training,” Ser Barristan said. “You are a knight now after all.”

“Just as the mind should always be worked, so should the body. And I know that you are stronger than I am, so why shouldn’t I still train with you.”

Barristan laughed. “I suppose you’re right. But I can’t help but dread the day you will beat me. You will be a terror in the battlefield.”

“Should you not be hoping that there’s no battle for such a theory to be tested?”

Barristan laughed. “I suppose that’s true, but war seems to be on the horizon. We can only hope that they fail before they even get close to Westeros. But there is always a chance that we will be called to fight for our king and our kingdom.”

“Do you think that it will come to that?”

“We have a new king. Battles often come with new kings.”

“Then we need to train,” Tywin said. 

“That we do.”

—

Tywin knocked hesitantly on the door to Princess Celia’s rooms. 

“Come in.” Her voice was the same as ever. Perhaps softer, but the same as it always has been. 

Tywin entered the room and found Rhaella with her. She was holding her little baby, the little prince. She looked better rested than she had when they had journeyed back to the Red Keep. 

Celia looked better than when he had peered into the carriage during their travels. 

She was awake. There was a slight bandage on her cheek. Her hair was cut to her shoulders. Bandages were around her neck. He could see the bandages underneath the light shift she was wearing. A warm blanket was around her shoulders. Tywin normally wouldn’t dare look at a lady dressed in so little. However, he had been invited there and she had been aware he was coming. 

“How are you, princess?”

“Alive, thanks to you.”

“Your brother and father already thanked me.”

“I heard, Ser Tywin.” She smiled brightly. “Knighthood suits you. Better than squire or cupbearer.”

He gave her a smile. “I feel no different than I was before.”

“I’m sure all the ladies look at you in more interest,” Rhaella said. She gave Tywin a knowing look and he blushed. 

“I am in your debt,” Celia said and Tywin turned his attention to her. 

“Live your life and find happiness,” he told her. “And consider the debt paid.”

She smiled brightly at him and Tywin returned it.

Chapter Text

Celia’s body was mostly healed. But she still had some bandages and a watered down milk of poppy to ease some of the discomfort. 

Although Rhaella had encouraged her not to do it, as did the Dornish Princess who was with her that day, Celia was determined to stand before the mirror and examine herself 

Her hair was cut to her shoulders, where it had once been down close to her below her shoulder blades. It looked more like her Uncle Ormund’s now more than ever. 

There was a scar on her cheek that was the best of them, apparently. The maester said that she would hardly notice it. It would grow pale in the extreme heat, but darken in the cold. However, with face powder it would not be too noticeable. 

There were scars at the base of her neck, around her neck as though the flames had tried to hold her. Those would be irritating and her parents had insisted on a whole new wardrobe to ease the collars that might irritate her skin. 

There were scars across her chest that went to one side of her ribs. Her arms were scared partially from her shoulder on one arm and then on her other forearm. 

Her legs also had scars mainly on her thighs, but there was one that wrapped around her foot. 

It could have been worse. She had heard the maids whisper it. It could have been worse. 

But what sort of man would wish to marry her, even with her title?

“I’m ugly,” she whispered. “I’m ugly.” Tears began to slide down her cheeks. She pressed her hands to her face and began to sob. 

“No,” her sister hushed. Rhaella went to her and touched Celia’s scarred and bandages back and pulled her close, trying to wipe the tears away. “No, no, you are not ugly.”

“I am,” she sobbed. “I am.”

Princess Nymeria was there too. But no matter what was said, Celia could not deny the fact that she was ugly. She was ugly. 

She understood the worry of her parents now. 

She was ruined. 

—

“How are you feeling, sweetling?” her mother asked, striking her short hair, looking almost disappointed when her hand didn’t slide down past her shoulders as it used to. 

“Better,” she said. “The maester said I should try exercising. My foot has healed enough for me to walk without too much pain. He says it is best that I get used to movement.”

“We are having a new wardrobe made for you,” her mother said. Her father remained quiet. “The finest fabric that will not chafe you. We have all your previous measurements and you should be wonderfully fine.”

Celia forced a smile on her lips. “Thank you.” She looked at her father. 

“Your grandfather had some plans for your future,” he said. “For now they will be placed on hold as we come to rearrange some things. And you need to be fully healed as well.”

“What was his plan?” Celia asked. 

Her father shook his head. “Not now. Not until we know that it is secure.”

Celia looked down at her hands and nodded. 

Whoever it was her grandfather had spoken to… Celia had no doubt they would not want her now. 

—

Celia walked to the gardens. She wanted to go somewhere she knew would be mostly private. Hardly anyone ever went into the gardens and she did not wish to be seen by anyone. 

She was dressed in a satin shift and a satin dress that was for someone younger. The hem did not even reach her ankles. It was flowing and the skirt barely brushed at her skin at all. The sleeves flowed as well so they only briefly touched her arms. She was still bandaged, but she wasn’t as thickly wrapped. 

People had apparently been told to keep away as she hardly saw anyone in the halls. It was almost as though it were abandoned. 

Celia made her way to the gardens and was surprised to find Tywin there in her mother’s garden reading. 

He seemed to sense her and looked up from his book. Tywin stood quickly and bowed. “Your grace.”

“What book are you reading?” she asked. “A history?”

“Of the Conquest,” he said. “It’s rather fascinating. It draws from personal accounts of healers at the time.”

Celia smiled and went to sit under the tree. He helped her down. “It sounds lovely.” She licked her lips. “Could you… could you read it allowed? I would like to forget other things and you… you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But could you…” Tears began to fall. “I do not want to hear dragons burning.”

Tywin sat beside her and let her lean against his side as he wrapped an arm loosely across her shoulder. He began to read and Celia closed her eyes and let herself drift. 

—

Tywin escorted her back to her rooms later in the afternoon and wished her a goodnight as she was asked to always go to bed early. 

Celia was dressed for bed and Celiaslid under the new satin covers and stared up at the canopy. She thought of the warmth Tywin had given her. Not the heat of fire, but of a sun just after the rain. 

Chapter Text

Tywin walked the gardens with Joanna, making certain it would be at a time where the princess would not be there. Aerys had told him that his youngest sister was still nervous about showing her face in public and while he knew Joanna had already seen her when serving Rhaella, he didn’t want to force any interaction since he knew that Joanna and Celia were not close. 

“The gardens here are so beautiful,” Joanna said. “I am sure it rivals even the gardens of the Reach.”

“The new queen has always loved gardens, or so I’m told. And then, of course there is Lady Jenny, although I heard she is not much one for their upkeep, rather their use.”

“I am surprised she hasn’t been sent away,” Joanna said. “I know that many do not care for her.”

“I believe it is because the royal family has gone through enough loss that sending away an unwanted relative would be too much to bare with at the moment.”

Joanna hummed. “How is the youngest princess doing?”

“Recovering,” he said. “From what I understand at least. Aerys seems confident and as does the new king and queen. But, more importantly, the maester seems positive as well.”

“That’s good. The poor girl. Only thirteen. It’s such a terribly self-conscious age for most girls. I have no doubt she will be rather different from the confident girl you and the others have grown up with.”

“I think with the right encouragement she will be fine,” Tywin said. “Her family adores her and she will have all the support she needs.”

Joanna smiled at him and Tywin felt a blush spread across his cheeks. 

—

“So it appears the Lady Joanna and you are spending a lot of time together,” Aerys said, grinning as they rode with Steffon. Both had agreed that the younger boy needed to get out and away from his father’s almost oppressive mourning. Yes, Steffon felt the weight of his mother’s death, but it was not fair that he felt the need to bear the brunt of his father’s emotions as well. 

“We are cousins,” Tywin said, fighting a blush. “And I would rather spend time with her than spend it with my father.”

Aerys grimaced. “I am sorry that your father does not respect you more. You have a great mind, Tywin, and if your father dared use it, the West would prosper.”

“You are too kind.”

Aerys glanced briefly at his own cousin and then turned his focus back on Tywin. “Shall we call for a race and let Steffon win? I think he needs it.”

Tywin nodded and called out to the younger boy. “Steffon, want to race?”

The Baratheon boy brightened slightly and nodded. 

He indeed won the race and Tywin felt some satisfaction that he was able to brighten Steffon’s day, even just a little bit. 

—

“Your grace,” Tywin said with a bow in the king’s solar. It was strange to not see the previous king. Sometimes he would forget that he was a knight and that King Aegon was dead. He had spent much of his youth there playing cyvasse with the king. 

His heart twisted slightly at the knowledge that they would never play again. 

“No need to bow, my boy,” King Jaehaerys said, holding up his hand. “My father thought very highly of you and had great plans for your future and your relationship with the royal family. However, regardless of what my father felt for you, I am eternally grateful for what you did in saving my daughter.”

“I did what anyone would do, your grace.”

“That is it, no one else went for her save you. And for that I am forever in your debt. Your valor and courage will be rewarded and it shall be greater than mere knighthood.”

Tywin had no idea what reward he could possibly be given, but he bowed his head in thanks anyway.

—

He was allowed to return to Casterly Rock for a visit and Joanna was to accompany him to visit her family as well. 

He would see his brothers and sister again. He would be able to properly meet Gerion as well. 

If this was the king’s reward, he could not be more content. 

Chapter Text

Celia watched from her window as House Lannister left the Red Keep. 

It was strange to think that Tywin was no longer there. She could hardly remember a time where he was not somewhere in the capital. But now he was gone to visit his family. Celia was excited for him. 

She knew that he had not seen his family in such a long time and now he would have the chance to pay respect to his late mother. Celia remembered going to the Sept of Baelor to light a candle for her. She still did sometimes, but now she had other people to light candles for. 

Celia wished she had been able to wish him farewell properly. But she didn’t feel comfortable being seen by so many people yet. And she knew that Lord Tytos was a rather vain man. She didn’t want to think about how he would view her appearance. 

She hoped Tywin enjoyed his time in the West. However, she would miss their talks in the garden. And, selfishly, she hoped he came back soon. 

—

Celia was still recovering, still healing, when Aerys came to visit her. 

Her brother looked exhausted. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was a new father or if it was because he was the new crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Aerys sat on her bed and laid back beside her and closed his eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked. 

“I just want to rest,” he said. “Rhaegar is napping now, but Father has been getting after me about another child but he’s also getting after me to do more in my duties as prince. But I just need a nap. Rhaegar was fussy the entire night and Rhaella wasn’t feeling well. She doesn’t want you to worry, but the birth took a lot out of her and she barely likes leaving our rooms.”

Celia nodded.

“Rhaella needs to rest by herself. And I suppose I do too.”

“I’m here though. Can’t you find a random place to go?”

He hummed. “Such a mean little sister, not letting me sleep in peace.”

Celia rolled her eyes and settled onto her back. “Fine, be a stingy big brother that steals his younger sister’s rest.”

His eyes were closed, but he was smiling. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better. It still hurts though. I just don’t want to go anywhere.”

“You can stay here as long as you want,” Aerys told her. “If Father tries to force you out into court, I’ll fight it for you, and I’ll convince Mother of the same.”

Celia smiled and closed her eyes and shifted onto her better side and curled into her brother’s side. 

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep. 

—

The maester came to look at her wounds and change the bandages. 

She was healing, but everything would scar. 

Celia wondered who could ever love anyone who looked as she did. 

—

Celia fidgeted uncomfortably as she stood for the new family portrait. She was dressed in fine clothes that covered everything. Celia kept glancing at her family. Her parents were sitting, as was Rhaella with Rhaegar in her arms. Aerys stood behind her and Celia was at his side and Steffon was the other side of hers. Hidden behind the chair, Aerys held her hand tightly. Steffon’s hand was wrapped around her other. The last time they had a portrait together…

They had all been so happy then. 

But now it felt like so many pieces of them were missing. 

Chapter Text

Traveling along the Goldroad was a straight shot to Casterly Rock. It had been so long since he had traveled this way and yet he remembered it well. 

Before, he had traveled in anger and frustration over his father’s actions and his lack of power. Now, however, he was a knight of the Seven Kingdoms and a man who had brought honor to his house, more honor than his father ever had. 

Tywin has power and recognition from the king. 

The lords of the West could no longer belittle him because of his father’s actions. He was a man in his own right. His father was no longer the man to cast shadows. Tywin cast one on his own. 

—

The company made a stop to rest the horses and those who had ridden on horseback. It was a time for rest, but also to stretch their legs. 

“Would you like to walk with me, Lady Joanna?” Tywin asked. 

His cousin smiled, her cheeks rosy. “Of course,” she said, setting her hand on his arm. “Do you think we shall have a party for me while we are at Casterly Rock? Fifteen is an important age for any young lady.”

He laughed. “You are practically fifteen already.”

“Almost, but not yet.”

The wind picked up and Joanna tucked her hair behind her ear. She looked up at him through her lashes and smiled. “Do you think my father will begin discussing marriage prospects?” she asked. “I won’t be married as quickly as Princess Rhaella was, but I have no doubt that a betrothal would be a discussion I might have with my father.”

Tywin blushed. “There is always a possibility.”

“Has the topic been broached in your family?” she asked. 

“No,” he replied. “My father has not made me aware of such things and I assume he would at least have the decency to tell me. I am also a ward of House Targaryen. I have no doubt they would have some sort of say as well.”

“The king thinks very highly of you, even before you rescued poor Princess Celia.”

Tywin frowned. “I did what I thought was right and knowing the princess, she will come

Back stronger than ever. Princess Celia is a smart girl. She will find her footing soon enough.”

Joanna bowed her head, and did not reply to that. Instead, she continued on with the original conversation. “If you could marry anyone you wished to, who would it be?”

They had stopped just under the shade of an oak tree. Tywin looked down at her, her green eyes were upon him, bright and beautiful. “I think you know who I would wish it to be,” he whispered softly. “Or else I have been woefully too private in my affections.”

Joanna smiled up at him and pressed her lips tenderly against his. Tywin kissed her back. 

It could only be brief as they were in public and there was a great chance of being seen, but he kissed her regardless. 

“I should escort you back to your carriage,” he said softly. 

She blushed and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “Of course.”

—

As they continued their journey to Casterly Rock, Tywin began to make plans. He wanted to marry Joanna and he saw no reason as to why he could not. They were at peace, besides the whispering of people who would never set foot in Westeros. There was no need for political ties and he could even use Aerys and Rhaella as examples should his father argue against it. 

Tywin blushed. There was a chance for happiness. 

—

Casterly Rock was just as magnificent as he remembered. His stomach twisted slightly at the sight. He felt tears begin to well in his eyes, but he forced that emotion down. It would not be lordly for the people to see him cry. 

However, he was happier than he had ever been in ages. 

He was home. 

Chapter Text

Her mother and sister were the ones to prepare Celia for her first feast since before Summerhall. Her father felt it best that she was healed enough to attend since she was healed enough to walk around the gardens. 

Celia wore the softest fabric. Her dress was black with red sleeves and a red collar.  Her hair was styled in such a way that the scar on her cheek would be less noticeable, but Celia noticed it anyway. The dress was pretty and Celia was certain that if she hadn’t been burned, she would look beautiful in it. But she knew why she was dressed in long sleeves and a high collar in the middle of summer. 

“You look so pretty,” Rhaella said, hugging Celia from behind. Celia looked at her older sister and forced a smile on her lips, trying to not let the jealousy burn in her belly. Rhaella had always been the pretty one. But now… now there was no chance for Celia to grow prettier. Rhaella kissed her unburned cheek. “Aerys will escort you back to your rooms if you get uncomfortable at the feast,” she said. “And if he’s busy, Steffon is to do it instead. Okay?” 

Celia nodded. “Will Father be upset if I leave the feast early?”

Rhaella frowned. “If he is, Aerys or I will talk to him. He shouldn’t have forced you to attend the feast if you didn’t want to, but I know he wants you to be able to come out into court more than you are now. Regardless of your scars, little sister, you are a princess of the realm.”

Celia blushed and nodded. Rhaella hugged her a little more tightly in reply. 

—

The feast was as spectacular as they had always been, even if it is a little subdued due to mourning. But the lights are twinkling and the music is beautiful. 

Celia stays close to her family’s side and remains at the head table. Her Aunt Jenny refused to come to the feast and Celia almost wished she could have made an excuse to stay with her. But the two of them had never been close so it would have been rather odd for her to use her aunt as an excuse. 

The wood witch had come though, giving fortunes out to the guests. 

Celia stayed away from her. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the wood witch. If she were so powerful, if she was in Aunt Jenny’s corner, she would have stopped the fire at Summerhall. However it had started, if she was truly gifted, she would have been able to stop the fire from starting. 

Celia watched as her brother and sister danced across the floor. While they didn’t love each other romantically, she could see that they were having fun, laughing as they spun around and around the floor. 

Their father was sitting next to their mother, talking privately but looking as in love as they had always been. 

Uncle Ormund and Steffon were speaking with some of the Stormlords. Her cousin and uncle were subdued. But they were lords with responsibilities, unlike her aunt, and were forced to take part in the festivities. 

Celia shifted slightly and looked down at her hands. She wanted to dance, but she didn’t know anyone who would ask her. If Tywin were there, he probably would have taken pity on her and danced with her, but he would have been kind about it. If she ordered Ser Barristan to, he would have probably danced with her, but Celia didn’t wish to bother him. 

She shrank into herself. How could she possibly be alone in a great hall full of people and still feel dreadfully alone?

—

Celia left the party when everyone else did. She didn’t want to drag her brother or Steffon away when it seemed they had more important things to focus on other than her. 

But it didn’t stop Celia from crying quietly into her pillow. 

Why hadn’t she died? Wouldn’t it have been less painful if she had died? 

—

Celia sat in one of the window nooks of the library. She curled in on herself and sheltered herself away with the curtains closing herself in. She wasn’t strong enough or agile enough to go to the top of the bookshelves. But she still wanted to study in private. She wondered if her father would let her study to be a maester now that she was too ugly to be married off. 

The curtain opened and Celia looked up to see her father. He looked more worn than she had ever seen him. His skin was pale and his eyes had dark circles beneath them. His long hair was tied back tastefully and he was not wearing his crown at all. She could almost pretend that he wasn’t the king now. Her grandfather was still alive and she was unburned. 

“How are you today, my little dragon?” he asked her gently as he sat down opposite of her. 

“I am well, Father,” she replied. 

He smiled sadly. “I had hoped you would enjoy the feast, but it appears that I was wrong.”

Celia flushed and looked down at her book, pulling her knees closer to her chest. “Can’t I go somewhere else, Father? Perhaps I can go live in Dragonstone or I could go live… I don’t know, somewhere else?”

Her father frowned. He leaned forward and tucked her dark hair behind her ear. “I have great plans for you, my dear. Your grandfather had such grand plans for your future and I believe the gods do as well. You are not meant to hide away, my little dragon. Be patient and happiness will be yours. I am sure of it.”

Celia put on a brave smile for his sake. But in truth, she did not believe him.

Chapter Text

Tywin was almost completely knocked to the ground by the sheer force of his younger siblings hugging him. Kevan was the same height that he was, but sturdier. Genna had grown as well, no longer the baby sister he had adored, but the young woman with a firm mind, and hand, of her own. Tygett had grown and Tywin regretted the years he had missed, especially when he saw young Gerion. 

His baby brother was now four and he had missed it all. Tywin’s heart twisted in his chest at the thought that his youngest brother would have no memories of their mother, no memories of the woman she had been, the woman who had loved them all unconditionally. 

“You’ve grown into quite the man, Tywin,” Kevan said with a grin. “And I hear you have been made a knight for saving a princess. We were all quite shocked when we heard about that.”

“It’s so romantic,” Genna said with a sigh. “It sounded like a song. I wouldn’t be surprised if one will be written.”

Tywin rolled his eyes and hugged his siblings again. Then, he knelt down to be eye to eye with Gerion. “Do you know who I am?”

“Biggest brother, Tywin.”

He grinned and stood to pick his brother up completely. “How have things been here since I’ve been gone?”

Kevan grimaced. “Father is… father. It’s obvious that no one respects him or his leadership. Based on all that you’ve done, I wouldn’t be surprised if many of the lords respect you more.”

Tywin sighed. “Anything else?”

“He has a mistress,” Genna said flatly. 

Tywin paused. “Not a betrothed? Not someone he would marry?”

Kevan shook his head. “No one would respect him at all if he were to marry her.”

“Is she baseborn?”

The oldest two of his younger siblings shared a look before Genna answered him. “It’s Gerion’s wetnurse.”

“Gerion is five, he doesn’t need a wetnurse.”

“Exactly.”

Tywin sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Is he doing his duties as lord at least?”

“Uncle Jason does most of the lord's duties,” Kevan told him. 

“Wonderful,” Tywin muttered. 

—

His father’s mistress was a poor imitation of his mother. Her hair was too dark, her nose too upturned, her eyes too big. 

And his father had the nerve to have his mistress eat with their family. Tywin held his tongue. This wasn’t the Targaryens. He wasn’t allowed to share his thoughts at all. 

—

“Father told me about the… wetnurse,” Joanna said gently as they walked in his mother’s garden. 

“I do not wish to talk about it,” Tywin said flatly. “It would be one thing if my father got himself a second wife, but to degrade the bed he shared with my mother… I do not think I can forgive him for that.”

Joanna set her hand on his arm. “You are a good man, Tywin Lannister. Any woman would be lucky to be your wife and the object of your affection.”

That made him smile. And he felt warmth spread across his chest. “I hope I shall make her very happy.”

At that, Joanna blushed and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. 

—

There was to be a small feast to celebrate his knighting and while Tywin was grateful for such a thing, but he knew that his father’s mistress would be there as well. The only thing that made it better was that Joanna would be there by his side. 

Chapter Text

Celia sat amongst her sister’s sewing circle. She had made sure that all of her scars were as covered as they could be. The one on her face seemed to become less noticeable by the day—at least, that’s what Rhaella and Aerys told her. 

The ladies of court spoke mainly to Rhaella and sought her approval in everything. She would be queen after their mother one day and it was her duty to amass a group of ladies that would help run the court with her. Celia should have been amongst those ladies, but she didn’t want anyone to notice her at all. Even as she sat beside Rhaella, she felt as though she were invisible. 

Once, Celia might have been jealous of all the attention her sister was getting, but. Or she didn’t mind. She was truly uglier than Rhaella and now there was no chance of her growing up to be more pretty than she was now. She was glad to be inconspicuous. 

Celia could just focus on her embroidery: a golden lion. 

Perhaps she could give it to Tywin for whatever tourney he joins next. He would probably use Lady Joanna’s favor, but he might at least have it on his person. Celia blushed at the thought. 

“Is that a lion I spy?” Rhaella whispered gently so no one else could hear her. 

Celia’s cheeks burned. “Yes, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, I think it does. You should see how much you smile whenever Tywin talks to you or dances with you.” Her sister sounded so very pleased. It sounded almost conspiratorial, where recently her tone towards Celia always seemed to resound with pity. “You look as though no one else exists. That is how all girls should look when they are in love.”

“I am not in love with Tywin Lannister.”

“I think you are.”

“He is in love with Lady Joanna. Everyone knows that.”

“Being in love doesn’t mean anything will come out of it. We royal ladies are not always allowed such graces. But being in love is something that is not for others. It is for ourselves. There is nothing wrong with loving someone who does not or cannot love you back. It is how songs are born.”

“I do not love Tywin Lannister,” Celia said flatly. 

“Whatever you say, sweet sister.” Rhaella leaned closer. “Just know that Aerys and I will be your greatest champions when it comes to you finding happiness. At least one Targaryen of our generation should be allowed to marry for love. 

—

Celia was not in love with Tywin Lannister. 

Her feelings for him were more complicated than that. Besides her family, Celia was certain he was her best friend. He was smart and had a sense of humor that made her laugh. He treated her as an equal. He didn’t think her intelligence was some sort of fun trick to show adults how funny it was that a girl knew all these things. He actually debated things with her and he thought her opinion mattered. 

And he had saved her life. 

She could have died in that fire—would have if he had not come to find her. 

She had hardly any memories of her getting her out, but she was certain she dreamed of it. He had carried her so carefully and taken her to safety. He made sure to visit her and had made certain she was well. He hadn’t stared at her scars. He had taken note to see if she was well and then his attention had been solely focused on her. 

She was not in love with Tywin Lannister. 

He deserved someone who was pretty and would be admired by the lords that served him. The scared princess with only her brain to commend her was not for the future Lord of the West. 

Celia felt her shoulders sag. 

Lady Joanna deserved to be at his side, not her. 

—

At night, Celia was treated by the maester and septa again. They changed her bandages and applied salves to her body. They assured her she was healing well. 

But she heard the servants whisper as well that a dragon should not have burned at all. 

—

Celia was in the library when she was told the news. 

Her grandmother had passed away. It had been peaceful, but it did not change the fact that Celia had not been able to say goodbye. 

Chapter Text

Casterly Rock held a small feast in honor of the late Queen Betha. She had apparently died in her sleep peacefully, holding onto one of her husband’s robes. 

When news had arrived, Tywin wrote a joint letter to the king and queen and then individual letters to their children and then Steffon. His friends had already gone through so much loss already, especially Steffon, and Tywin wanted them to know that he was there for them if they ever wished to write their emotions. 

He knew better than anyone that heirs were not always allowed moments of grief when it was to be so very public. 

Tywin’s father managed to make the feast somber, at least in the beginning. But when the wine flowed, there was nothing to stop his father from calling for music and dancing. There was nothing and no one to stop him parading his mistress around the room as though she were the lady of the keep. 

He had to grit his teeth together as he realized the woman was wearing one of his mother’s dresses. The dress she has so painstakingly made to celebrate her husband becoming Lord of Casterly Rock. He remembered his mother bringing it out once to show him when he was a boy, show him the dress she wished for Tywin’s own wife to wear one day when she became the lady of the keep. 

And his father was letting his mistress wear it. 

Kevan gripped Tywin’s wrist and he knew that his younger brother had realized Tywin’s own realization. 

Their father had been cruel to their mother in life, and, even now, he was spitting on her memory in death. 

—

If he did not move he would surely make a scene again, and so he stood and went to Joanna and asked for a dance. 

She smiled up at him and took his offered hand and followed where he led to the floor and began to join the throng of the other dancers. 

“Have you sent your condolences to the royal family?” she asked. 

“How do you know I sent condolences?” he replied. 

She smiled up at him. “I know you, Tywin Lannister, and you are very close with the royal children. You have a good heart as well. So of course you would write to them. I’m sure they all appreciate it.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “Especially the younger princess.”

Tywin narrowed his eyes. “Celia?” he asked. “How do you mean?”

“It is obvious to anyone with eyes that she fancies you.”

He laughed. “No, Princess Celia has no interest in me when it comes to that emotion. I fear I am her only intellectual equal in that keep so it is only natural that she appears to seek my presence often. Besides, whether she should have been in that position or not, I was the one to get her from the fire. Any look you noticed from her was simple gratefulness.”

“You do not know a girl’s heart, Tywin. Men don’t see things the same way we women do.”

He laughed. “Whatever you say, Joanna. Nothing will convince me you are right, so agree to disagree.”

Joanna laughed as well and placed her head against his chest. 

Tywin closed his eyes. “I know your father is disappointed with my own. So, I will ask your father for your hand when I have proven myself, when I have shown him that I am not my father. I will prove myself worthy of you, Joanna.”

She lifted her head and smiled up at him. He smiled right back. 

—

Tywin sat with his siblings after dinner in their mother’s old rooms. At least the mistress did not seem to touch them. Genna had little Gerion in her lap. She had been quiet recently. 

“Has Father still not broken the betrothal?” Tywin asked her. 

Her cheeks stained pink. “No, he insists it would look terrible if we back out of the agreement. I am to marry within the next two years.”

“You are only fourteen.”

Genna swallowed. “The princess was wedded and bedded and had a child by my age.”

“And she was in an immense amount of pain. She had Aerys did not want this. Father might not see reason, but perhaps I could speak to the king?”

“The royal family has treated you so kindly, Tywin,” Genna said. “I do not want you to make a request for my sake.” She continued to blush. “I am not the first girl to be put in a marriage she does not want. But I am a Lannister and I know my brothers will protect me. That is more than many ladies my age can say. I will marry the Frey and I will do my duty. I am a lioness and I will not be made to bow low.” She lifted her chin proudly. “Perhaps I will do so well that I shall become Lady of the Twins one day.”

Tywin smiled sadly. “Perhaps you will.”

—

As he was readying for bed, a knock came to Tywin’s door and he opened it. “What is it?”

A servant was holding a small scroll. “A letter came from the Red Keep, Ser.”

Tywin took the letter and thanked the servant before closing the door. He went to his bed where the candle was brightest and climbed in. 

He opened the Targaryen seal and recognized Celia’s penmanship right away. Elegant and practiced as always. Easy to read and precise. 

A smile spread across his face. Little Scribe . 

The nickname had been a brief one after their maester expounded upon how wonderful her writing was and chastised Tywin, Aerys, and Steffon for their own abysmal hand. 

Oh, how she had hated it. Her cheeks had turned blotchy and red and she had stamped her foot and had gone to her grandfather to demand that they stop teasing her for it. The late king had laughed, but picked his granddaughter up and told them that they were not to use the name by royal proclamation. 

His smile remained as he rubbed his thumb across his name. 

Dear Tywin,

Thank you for your kind letters. I know you sent one to my parents and then two to my siblings, one to Steffon, and then one for me. 

I am still in shock that I will never see my grandmother again. I know she missed Grandfather but I thought she would live longer. I thought she would stay here with us for another decade or three. 

How is Casterly Rock? I asked Aerys to bring me a history book on the keep so I could ask you proper questions. 

Is it true that it has never been taken in a siege? I find that hard to believe. I am certain I could figure it out quite easily. 

Is it true that lions live in the crypts or dungeons? Who feeds them? Are they wild lions or are they tame? Are there boy and girl lions and, if so, do cubs ever happen? Do you ever get to play with the cubs? Does each child get their own cub, like Targaryens used to with dragons? 

I am sorry for all the questions, but I have only been able to think of questions and learning as Father thinks it will be well and good to stop my lessons with Aerys and Steffon since Rhaella’s had already stopped a long time ago. 

Thank you Tywin for being a good friend. 

Yours sincerely,

Celia 

Chapter Text

Celia looked at herself in the mirror as the maids readied her for the day. Her scars were still very present. She wore long sleeves that his the ones on her arms and high collars that hid the scar across her neck and chest. 

Sometimes they would be rubbed raw by the material, but it was better than them being visible. The only one noticeable was the one on her cheek, the rough texture of her skin and the pale scar that blotched her face every so slightly and only got worse in the extreme heat. 

The maids made certain to never comment on her scars within her earshot, or perhaps they had stopped commenting all together. 

She didn’t know. All she did know was that Steffon had heard something and Uncle Ormund had flown into such a rage at the servants that Celia had received new ones. She did not know what happened to the other ones. She dared not ask either. 

Her parents had apparently agreed to it and Celia felt like she had no room to ask questions. 

Her days had been filled to stay by Rhaella’s side and help her take care of sweet Rhaegar. 

She absolutely adores her little nephew. She loved the way his expression brightened when he saw her. With him, he did not see or even notice her scars. He simply reached his arms towards her and blew kisses against her cheek and wiggled happily when she sang and danced with him. 

It gave her brother and sister much needed time to sleep as they were insistent on keeping him close at night. But Celia didn’t mind. She loved her nephew and felt that perhaps her fate in life, the grand plans her father and grandfather had planned for her was for Celia to take care of whatever nieces and nephews Aerys and Rhaella gave her. After all, she didn’t attend lessons anymore. What would a nursery maid need for an education anyway? 

“A letter has arrived for you, princess,” Ser Barristan said, knocking at the door after she had finished preparing for the day.

“A letter?”

“From the West.”

Celia smiled and went to the knight and took the scroll and opened it. She and Tywin had exchanged many letters since he had returned to Casterly Rock to be with his family and his correspondence was always the highlight of her day. 

Dear Celia, 

I hope this letter finds you well. 

I have sent books from Casterly for your enjoyment, but should arrive shortly after this letter reaches you. I hope they surpass whatever expectations you might have of them once they arrive, for I shall not spoil the surprise. 

I miss you and your siblings as the Red Keep had been my home for many years, but I also missed the home I had been born to and the family that I had missed so much time with. 

However, I will be returning before you know it. 

Yours,

Tywin

Celia laughed and rolled the letter to thank Ser Barristan for giving it to her. 

“I see you have regained the smile your grandfather cherished,” an achingly familiar voice came. 

Her gaze shifted and she dropped the letter as she rushed to her door and threw her arms around Tywin’s neck. He laughed and bent down slightly to set the books he was carrying down and hugged her back. 

“A warm welcome from the princess,” he said into her hair. He pulled away and looked her over. At eighteen, he looked more and more handsome than he had when he had left. His skin was tanned and his green eyes bright in amusement. “I must warn you, princess, other lords might get the wrong idea if you greet them so enthusiastically.”

She stepped back and swatted his chest. “You’ve come back.”

“I told you the surprise would surpass your expectations. I have come to escort Joanna back to your sister’s service and also coming back into your brother’s. Someone has to keep him humble.”

Celia smiled. “Do they know you’re here?”

“Aerys knew I was coming, but I asked that he keep it a secret. He could see you have been down a little lately. He thought this would be a good surprise.”

“It is a wonderful surprise. I’m glad you’re back.”

He took her hand in his, her scarred ones, and kissed her knuckle.”

“I am glad to impress. Now, shall I give Ser Barristan a moment of reprieve and escort you to break your fast with the family?”

Celia nodded and Tywin offered her his arm and escorted her from her room. 

—

While Celia was happy Tywin was back in the Red Keep, she was not excited to have Lady Joanna back in her sister’s inner circle. 

Lady Joanna had grown even more beautiful and Celia had no doubt hundreds of men would all over themselves to have her attention. She was also certain that Tywin was the same. He had come all the way to escort her and to return to Aerys. 

Celia… Celia was just an extra thought in his good nature. 

Lady Joanna’s blonde hair was beautiful and her green eyes bright. And her smile was kind and infectious. 

Celia felt so very small in the sewing circle and the high she had felt seeing Tywin again was gone. Lady Joanna was like a diamond amongst the ladies and everyone seemed to flock to her as they flocked to Rhaella. 

Celia? 

Celia had never had that. 

And she doubted she ever would. 

—

They had taken the Stepstones. 

The Band on None had taken the stepstones and everyone in court was worried. 

It was bad omens all around. The fire at Summerhall, and now the Stones had been taken. 

War was on the horizon and no one thought they would be ready. 

—

The banners were being called. 

Celia watched in horror as her father argued with her uncle over going to see battle himself. She watched her mother crying. 

Her father would not be going. 

But Aerys, Tywin, and even Steffon would be sent to war. 

Tywin was eighteen and a knight already. But Aerys was only sixteen and Steffon was only fourteen. 

They were too young for war. All of them were. Celia rushed to the sept and lit candles at the foot of the Warrior and prayed. 

There was nothing else she could do. 

Chapter Text

Steffon was too young for war, they all knew it. So, none of them felt slighted when their ladies of choice or marriage focused their attention on the young Baratheon heir. Steffon was only fourteen and he looked so visibly nervous that Tywin feared the boy would rattle out of his armor. 

Tywin already had Joanna’s favor tied carefully around the hilt of his sword and he knew Aerys had Rhaella’s. Even though the prince and princess were not in love, Tywin knew that Rhaella was worried about her husband. Tywin was the only one amongst them who was knighted and even that way by the king and not a fellow knight. 

They were untested in war. None of them even wanted to be a part of this war but it was their duties as lords and heirs of Westeros that they had to go. 

“Be safe,” Rhaella told Steffon. “And…” She cupped her cousin’s face in her hands. “It is not cowardly to run if the battle gets too heated. You are your father’s heir and you are just a boy. You do not have to stay and fight if you find yourself at risk. As your cousin, princess, and future queen, I order that you come back. Do you understand me?” She looked at Aerys and Tywin. “Do you understand me?”

Tywin bowed his head as Aerys went to his wife and kissed her on the top of her head. 

“We’ll come back,” Aerys promised. “We won the Stepstones before. We'll do it again.”

—

The ships felt cramped. Even though they were all allowed to be with the knights and the generals, Tywin still felt his stomach churning 

War. 

He had never been in a war. 

He had heard stories, read histories, listened to songs. 

He had thought the fire at Summerhall was like a war, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case. He knew that war would be different. 

People would die on that field and he could only hope and pray that he wasn’t one of them. 

These were his friends. His brothers. 

And while he was thankful his younger brothers had not been asked to fight as he had, he would protect Aerys and Steffon as well as he could under the circumstances. 

He had made promises. 

And he knew what it was like to miss a parent even though he had known them. 

He would do everything in his power to make sure Rhaegar grew up with both his parents. 

—

The air was heavy with salt and the stench of rotting corpses. Blood mixed with the dirt on the stones and Tywin fought sopping wet as he tried to cut through those that he could and avoid those that he could. 

He tried to find Steffon and Aerys. The three of them had gotten separated, put in different divisions that served their houses. 

Tywin fought under Joanna’s father, Jason. While a majority of the Lannister forces were still upon the ships, battling against the enemy navy to keep them from depositing more ships, Tywin was on the rocks. 

He cried out as the tip of someone’s sword slashed his cheek. It was not deep, but the spray of the salt air made the wound feel as though it had been peeled carefully open. 

Tywin swung his sword. 

He had to find his friends. He had to find his friends. 

Dread pooled in his belly. 

What if they were already dead?

—

He managed to find Steffon. 

But it was not how he wished to find his friend. 

Steffon held his dying father, the Stormlord laid against the stones with a gaping wound along his chest. His eyes were unseeing as Steffon begged his father to move. Begged his father to say something. 

The knights from the Stormlands did their best to protect their old liege and their new, but holding onto a dead body would not help them keep their own lives. 

Tywin fought against some of the enemy and managed to grab Steffon. 

The fourteen year old boy struggled against him as Tywin dragged him away. 

They needed to get him to safety. 

Steffon was sobbing, his father’s mood soaking his clothes and staining his hand red. 

Chapter Text

The court that had remained in King’s Landing all anxiously awaited news. Waited to hear who had been killed. 

It was as though all of Westeros was at a stand still as they waited to know if the Ninepenny Kings would be making their way towards Westerosi shores. 

Celia, however, worried for her family and friends. 

She worried for Steffon, who was too young to be fighting. She worried for Aerys, who had never faced something like this before. She worried for Tywin, who was more trained then the others but this was still his first true battle. 

Celia listened intently for news. 

She wanted to know what was happening. 

She wanted to know that everyone was okay. 

She wanted to know when the war would be over. 

She wanted to know when her friends would return to her. 

—

Celia knew that Rhaella didn’t care for their brother in a romantic sense, but she could tell that her sister was worried about his safety. 

And there had to be some feelings there. Something that kept her whispering to Rhaegar that his father would be back soon, something that encouraged her to keep telling her son stories about Aerys from when they were children. 

Celia did the same for her nephew. The babe was obviously confused on why his father wasn’t with him. He would sit in attention when in Rhaella’s arms or in any of their arms and look around. Even if Celia couldn’t ask Rhaegar herself, she was certain that he was looking for his father. 

Celia could only pray that her nephew would get to know his father one day. 

—

Celia was in the library again, but she wasn’t reading. She wanted to sew in peace for a little bit before she had to join her mother and sister and the other ladies. 

She was making another golden lion and even though she knew it couldn’t mean anything, she still made one. 

“That is a very interesting choice in your embroidery,” her father’s voice came. 

Celia held the pattern to her chest and looked up at her father in surprise. “It is nothing but practice.”

He hummed, which meant he did not believe her, and Celia blushed. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she said. She hated that it did. 

Because she knew it wasn’t to be. 

—

Celia was sewing a dragon this time as she sat in the ladies circle. Her mother wasn’t there this time, so the ladies flocked to Rhaella and Lady Joanna and Princess Nymeria. The women specifically flocked to the Lannister lady, wishing to hear news as so many believed that a betrothal would soon be made between herself and Tywin. 

They would make a beautiful couple. Coulden hair and green eyes. They would look elegant. Powerful. 

They matched each other in a way Celia was sure she would never match with anyone. 

She thought of her Aunt Rhaelle. She had told Celia to not pin her dreams to Tywin and so she didn’t. But it still hurt to know that the only boy outside her family that was kind to her… he would not want her in this body either. 

Chapter Text

The air stank of salt and blood. 

Tywin’s arms grew tired and heavy, if he knew that he could not stop or else he would be one of the bodies laid out amongst the stones. 

He could still see Lord Baratheon’s body in his mind. He could all hear Steffon’s cries and the pain that ripped from his friend's throat as though the air had carried it through the wind. 

People were dead. 

People were dead. 

There would still be more dying and Tywin wondered if he would be one of those that would never return home. 

He wondered who it would be that would mourn him. 

—

“No!” the word upped it of his throat as he slid down the banks towards the water as he saw two men against his uncle. 

Tywin rammed his shoulder into one of the men and slammed his sword through the man’s throat. However, when he turned, a sword was pierced through his uncle’s belly. 

With more force than he knew he had, Tywin swung his sword and the head of the enemy came clean off. 

Tywin dropped his sword and caught his uncle as he fell. 

“Tywin,” the man wheezed. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Tywin told him. “It’s going to be okay. I just need to find a maester—a healer. I just need…”

“It’s too late,” he whispered. “It’s too late, Tywin.”

Tears began to burn at his eyes and he tried to hold them back. “You can’t die. You can’t die. I can’t do this alone.”

“You can,” he said, his voice unsteady. “You are a lion, Tywin. You will bring our house back to its former glory. Just promise me…”

“Anything. I’ll promise you anything .”

His uncle swallowed the blood that was already spilling from his lips. “Please,” he begged. “Look after Joanna.”

“I promise. In the name of all the gods, I swear it.” 

But the light from his uncle’s eyes was gone and Tywin did not know if he heard the promise. 

—

It was Tywin’s turn to be dragged by a body. This time it was Aerys that pulled him away. 

His friend’s violet eyes were wide and terrified as they were once more plunged back into battle. 

Tywin wondered if the smell of death and the blood of his uncle beneath his nails would ever go away. 

—

There was a lull in the battle, everyone retreating and hoping that they might find enough strength to battle for another hour, another day. 

“You have won your title,” Ser Barristan said. “You are truly a knight of these Seven Kingdoms. I wish… I wish this was enough to make all that you have seen worth it.”

A knighthood by word and blood, though he was made one already by the king, meant more to Tywin than he could say. 

And yet… and yet it felt hollow. 

Chapter Text

The news of those killed began to flood into court and Celia felt as though the waves threatened to drag her beneath them. First she heard that Uncle Ormund had been killed. Dead in Steffon’s arms. 

Celia watched as her family mourned. The only consolation was that he was with his wife now. But even then that was not enough. Steffon had now lost both his parents and was now Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and Lord of House Baratheon. 

Celia could not imagine what her cousin was feeling and only hoped that he had not been forced to carry that burden of loss in those moments by himself. 

The next death that Celia heard of came while in the sewing circle. The ladies were discussing nothing of note—gossip of who might find themselves betrothed after the war was over—when one of the servants of House Lannister entered the room and all became silent. 

For a moment, Celia thought she couldn’t breathe. She thought of Tywin. His sarcastic smile and his laughter as he danced with her kindly. Celia clenched her hands so tightly that as her nails dug into her palm, she knew that they had drawn blood. 

He could not be dead. 

The servant gave Lady Joanna a scroll and she read over it quickly. She dropped the letter and stood, covering her mouth as a sob escaped her throat. Rhaella stood and rushed to her friend to comfort her as the two turned away. 

“What does it say?” Lady Cassana whispered. 

Hesitantly, the Princess of Dorne picked up the letter and began to read. “It is a letter from Ser Tywin,” she said. “He writes that… oh gods,” she whispered. “He writes to Lady Joanna to inform her that her father has been killed in the heat of battle and that he fought valiantly and died heroically, even though he knows it will be of little consolation.”

Celia’s stomach twisted in guilt at the relief that sank into her bones at the knowledge that Tywin was still alive. 

—

Celia followed her mother and sister and the other ladies of court to the Sept of Baelor to pray. 

They gathered around the Warrior and lit candles for those that still fought, and then to the Stranger for those that had died bravely in battle. 

Celia prayed at the door of the Warrior specifically for her older brother, cousin, and Tywin. 

She could not imagine a world without them and prayed that the war might be over soon and the three of them might come home. 

It was not fair. 

It was not fair. 

—

Celia dreamed of dragons. 

There was a dragon, gold and black that screeched and roared and fought against a snarling red and black one.

Beneath them both was a red and gold dragon crying out into the air, her tail wrapped protectively around three eggs. 

A wolf’s howl pierced through the air as the dragons fell and suddenly everything was deathly silent before she jolted up from bed in a cold sweat. 

—

A small feast was held in honor of Celia’s uncle. Celia, Rhaella, and their parents shared stories. They shared stories until they cried. 

Chapter Text

Tywin hated his father. 

He hated his father for what he had done to his sister’s future. 

He hated his father for not allowing him to return home for his mother’s funeral. 

He hated his father for embarrassing them all and taking a lowborn mistress. 

He hated his father for dressing his mistress in the clothes of Tywin’s mother. 

He hated his father for many reasons.  

But as Tywin fell to his knees and heaved up whatever gruel he had been given for his morning meal, Tywin hated his father with such a passion that even the gods would quake. 

His father should have been there. He should have been there upon the field leading the Lannister troops. 

He should have been the one dead in his armor. 

He should have been there. 

Tywin hated his father utterly and completely. 

And yet… and yet Tywin felt like a boy again as hot tears pricked at his eyes. 

Once more, Tywin was a boy who longed to crawl into his father’s bed and ask him to scare the horrors of his dreams away. 

But the horrors before him now would be seared into his memory for the rest of his days. 

—

The war was won, but Tywin felt as though they had lost. The bodies scattered upon the ground and the stink of salt and blood and rotting corpses were a reminder that they had lost in a way. Fathers would never know their children or grandchildren. Husbands would never kiss their wives. Sons would never hug their children. 

Tywin would never know or remember all their names. 

See Barristan had been the one to end the conflict with the Ninepenny kings by killing Maelys Blackfyre. Any threat to Westeros and the Targaryen crown was over. 

Aerys was standing beside Tywin, surveying the damage. “I never want such a war to happen when I am king,” he said. 

“We can make sure it doesn’t.”

“And if there is, I will not hide behind the crown as my father has.” Aerys’ violet gaze was distant. 

“Your father does not have the health for it,” Tywin pointed out. 

“A king is meant to protect their people. How much of a difference would there have been if my father could fight, or if one of his brothers had lived long enough to fight. Or if dragons—“

“If you get caught up in the what ifs, you will never be able to think of the now. And now, I have an honor to bestow and I think everyone would agree that you proved yourself.” Aerys looked at him in confusion. Tywin drew his sword. “I know it is not much, but it is an honor nonetheless and you shall be our king. That is a right granted to you by birth, this is a right granted to you by your actions. Kneel, Aerys.”

His friend knelt and bowed his head. “In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and the innocent. In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women. In the name of the Smith, I charge you to be strong. In the name of the Crone, I charge you to be wise. In the name of the Stranger, I charge you to keep your vows until your death. Arise, Ser Aerys Targaryen, Knight of the Seven Kingdoms!”

The Westerosi men had gathered to see what was happening when they saw their prince kneel and a roar of approval and triumph in their victory. 

—

There were too many dead. Too many of all men, but especially Lannister men and Tywin hated his father more. 

At least the king had some sort of excuse. What excuse did Tywin’s father have? None. 

—

When they got on the ship to go home, he, Aerys, and Steffon shared a bottle to ease some of the aches and pains of war. Before long, the lulling of the ship and the way the alcohol made their minds fog, Tywin was the last of his friends to fall asleep, huddled together like they were still boys innocent of the horrors of war. 

Chapter Text

The news the war had been won brought a sweeping relief that spread throughout the Red Keep and the rest of King’s Landing. 

Celia felt more relief than she could possibly explain. Save for her uncle, all those she knew had made it. 

Aerys was safe. 

Steffon was safe.

Ser Barristan was safe. 

Tywin was safe. 

The last person brought a small smile to her lips. Even though Celia knew that nothing would come out of anything in her heart, it was still a feeling she would cherish, just as she cherished Ser Barristan’s kindness. 

Tywin cared about her as a friend more than he cared for her as a princess. His friendship was more than she could possibly ask for, and he gave it willingly, which was enough for her. 

Celia doubted that whatever her grandfather and father once had planned for her would come through, even if her face had healed enough to not be too noticeable by the careful placement of her hair or a white fabric that she would have worn anyway as a Targaryen due to her hair. Her body was still badly scarred. The maester said she would be able to still have children, but Celia doubted anyone would wish to marry her, much less have children with her. 

But Celia was content to be a loving aunt to Rhaegar and whatever children her siblings have. She would not get to be a maester or a septa or a midwife. But she could be an aunt at least. 

At the very least. 

—

Celia followed after her mother and sister as they prepared a feast to welcome back the soldiers. It would take some time for them to return. However, such a celebratory feast would take time. 

Celia’s mother focused more on Rhaella in terms of training. The queen is not only the head of the household of the Red Keep, she was the head of all the households of Westeros. Rhaella would need to learn how to make an example of how all feasts should be given. For now, it was their mother’s duty to do so. 

Celia doubted she would be given such an opportunity. But there was no need to fret over what would not and could not be. She would simply do what she could—and that was helping her mother and sister to welcome those that returned to their home and let them know they had not been forgotten and their troubles were now over. 

—

Lady Cassana Estermont was a surprise. The two were close in age and though Cassana had come to King’s Landing to serve as one of Rhaella’s ladies—as well as the now official betrothed of Steffon. She was fourteen as Celia was and they were far closer to one another because of it. 

Lady Cassana was full of laughter and smiles. She was very loud in her most joyous moments, and did not mind Celia rambling on about things she had learned. She did not mind going to the library to read. She did not mind any of it and Celia felt herself at ease because of it. 

“I wish that my betrothal had been under better circumstances,” she told Celia as they sat in the library. “Our mothers were close but then… well… I suppose I should not complain. I was not the one to lose family as you have.”

Celia reached out and placed her hand atop Cassana’s. “It was tragedy, true, it does not mean you shouldn’t wish for better circumstances.”

Cassana smiled. “I suppose. But at least it brought me to you. I felt so awkward around your older sister. She’s so proper and she has surrounded herself with Princess Nymeria and Lady Joanna. They are so beautiful it is as though I am staring at the sun.”

Celia blushed. “I know what you mean. They are all so beautiful. Once Rhaella is allowed to, I’m sure she and her main ladies shall dominate the court.”

Cassana nodded. “The question is if it will be for the better or for the worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I simply mean will it be a welcoming court or an unwelcoming one. No offense to your sister and her friendships, but I am not over fond of Lady Joanna. There is something I… I am not sure. I do not begrudge her as she is the only daughter of a cadet branch of a noble house. But… well… I’m not sure what I’m saying to be honest.”

Celia laughed. “Well, tell me when you do know.”

Cassana smiled. “I will.”

—

Celia visited her father to give him his medicine.

“You are such a sweet girl,” her father said as she made sure his pillows were fluffed. 

“Thank you, Father,” she said. 

“Celia, you know that I wish for what is best for you.”

“Of course, Father. You try to do what is best for all of us as well as the rest of Westeros.”

He smiled gently at her and took her hands in his own. “Once our soldiers are returned to us, I shall give you a great gift, my child.”

“A gift? What is it?”

“A surprise.”

Chapter Text

It was exhausting, utterly exhausting. 

Tywin felt as though his entire body was sagging against his bones. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he had to drag himself to talk to the Lannister forces. He had to make certain that they were well cared for and make note of how families needed to be compensated. It gave him a migraine at times with all the numbers that jumbled in his mind. 

He knew Aerys and Steffon felt the same in their utter exhaustion. 

Aerys talked to the Kingsguard that had come along for the battles and, when he was exhausted, well and truly exhausted and fighting sleep, Tywin could hear him mutter over and over again that he would never let a war like this happen for his son to fight in. He would be a true king of peace where there was no war to be had. 

Steffon was suffering the most out of all of them. He was still mourning his mother and now he had to mourn his father as well. Suddenly, at fourteen, Steffon was the Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. He was too young to be forced into such responsibilities. And yet he was. 

It was not fair. It was not fair that any of them had been thrust into a war. It was not fair. 

But nothing in life was fair. 

Children were always forced to play a game with rules made by adults who had forgotten what it was to be children. 

—

There was a difference in air, once they reached Westeros. While Tywin had never cared much for the smell of King’s Landing and the stink that rose from Flea Bottom, he could not help put bask in the way it perfumed the air. 

Home. 

He was home. 

Tywin gripped the side of the ship and leaned against it and closed his eyes. 

Home. 

—

Tywin gripped his uncle’s sheathed sword tightly in his hand as he took the man’s place and bowed to the king along with the other heads of houses and kingdoms.

 And then, he stepped forward and went to Joanna, who looked beautiful and wretched, dressed in black with her eyes rimmed red. Tywin went for her and knelt at her feet and held up her father’s sword. 

“He fought bravely, my lady,” he said. “A man worthy of all honor.”

Gently, Joanna took the sword from him, her fingers brushing along his own. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice straining and swelling with tears. 

—

A feast was being held in the honor of those that returned. 

Tywin was dressed in Lannister finery, more than he was comfortable with. His father had wanted his son to look like a Lannister prince of old. It made Tywin hate him more because he had dressed himself like a general—like he had been the one to go to war. 

His father, who had not cared at all if Tywin had died, who hadn’t cared that his brother was gone, acted as though he was proud. 

If Tywin had any say, he would sleep instead of going to the feast, but his father was insistent. 

“You are to be rewarded for all that you have done, my son,” the man said. “The greatest honor a king can give.”

Tywin kept himself from rolling his eyes and followed his father to the feast. 

Chapter Text

Celia didn’t know why her father asked her to be a proper part of the family’s retinue. However, she wouldn’t dare reject the dress that had been carefully made for her with the softest fabrics to be gentle against her scars. The long sleeves billowed out and then cuffed around her wrists. Her hair was covered in white as well, attatched to the high collar of her dress. It was a beautiful red dress with black embellishments. She was even given an loose overdress of black with gold embroidery along the edges that opened in the front so it almost felt like a light cloak with sleeves. It was a beautiful dress and Rhaella and her mother, who had come to check on her had gushed about how adorable she looked. Even Aerys, who had come to see if she truly thought she wanted to go to the feast and was ready to argue with their father if she put her foot down to not go, thought she looked very lovely in her dress. 

So, Celia entered in with the rest of her family, save Rhaegar who was too little to participate in such an occasion, especially with the loud noises that came along with a celebratory feast. 

However, it was beautiful to see the throne room decorated in the Targaryen colors and the victory that had been brought. The soldiers would be given honors and Celia had heard Aerys say that some of the noblest would be granted some lands and a title. 

Everyone looked beautiful too. A true celebration, although there would be a brief mourning period the following week for all those that had been lost, including Celia’s uncle. 

When she had seen Steffon again, she had rushed over to hug him and he had held her so very tightly, his face buried against her neck as hot tears seeped into the fabric of her headdress. 

She wished there was a way to comfort her more. 

—

“Would you like to dance?” Aerys asked, standing beside her place at the high table. 

“Should you not dance with Rhaella?”

“Look at you, sweet sister,” he laughed. “I have danced thrice with Rhaella already and she has gone briefly to the nursery to check on Rhaegar and to feed him.”

Celia straightened and turned to look at where she was certain Rhaella had been just moments ago. 

Aerys laughed. “Come on, Celia, you should dance.”

“I don’t want to embarrass you.”

Aerys’ smile turned downward and he knelt next to her so that he might look up at her. “Celia, you would never embarrass me. You are my precious little sister I promise to always protect. You are a great dancer. Why would I be embarrassed?”

Celia touched her cheek, the roughness of the faded scar made her want to cry. 

Aerys took that hand into his own and brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “You are not ugly, Celia. You are not deformed. You are a miracle. You survived when so many others did not. You survived something that killed a king, you should not feel embarrassed or ashamed for surviving.”

“It’s ugly,” she whispered. 

“Celia, many of the men here did not come out of battle unscathed. Many have scars themselves. Should they be ashamed?”

“Of course not.”

“They say scars make knights more handsome. Can’t the same be said for ladies?”

“Ladies shouldn’t have scars.”

“Even the most beautiful of dragons had scars, Celia. Never be ashamed of the scars you received for living. Please, dance with me and we might show these soldiers who have defended our home that they should not be ashamed of their losses either, for their princess is like them, tested by fire and made stronger for it.”

Celia pressed her lips into a firm line and squeezed her brother’s hand before nodding. Aerys’ bright smile returned and he stood and offered her his arm as she stood as well. 

Hesitantly, Celia let him lead her to the dance floor. 

—

The next person to dance with her was Tywin. Aerys expertly handed her off to the Lannister heir with ease. 

“You do not have to dance with me, you know,” she said as he spun her around the floor. 

“You seem to forget that we’re friends, Princess.”

“We are, but still. Wouldn’t you rather dance with Lady Joanna.” Her stomach churned when she saw his cheeks flush a little pink at his cousin’s name. 

“I’ve danced with her once before and I will probably dance with her again.”

“So am I simply an alternative?”

“She has brothers to dance with as well.”

“True.”

“Besides, you’re my favorite Targaryen, of course I would dance with you.”

“I’ll tell Aerys you said that.”

He laughed. “Oh, he knows you’re my favorite.”

That got Celia to smile. 

“You should smile more often,” he told her gently. “You shouldn’t hide your sorrows, I’m not saying you should. I just mean that you shouldn’t hide your happiness either.”

“I could say the same to you.”

He laughed again. “I suppose you could.”

They continued to dance and even through a second song before Tywin gave her to Steffon to dance with. 

—

Celia was sitting at the high table with her family and everyone was sitting to eat when her father stood. 

“My lords and ladies of Westeros. Although I have not been your king long, I am proud to rule a people whose strength and determination has brought down the end of House Blackfyre. No more shall we worry about a rebellion or crisis of succession. No more will men be forced to go onto foreign shores to protect their homeland. We are at peace and I pray to the old gods and the new that we shall remain at peace for a long while. May peace persist well beyond the reign of my grandson and his grandson!”

A cheer rose from the crowd and cups banged on the tables in agreement. 

“I have already granted many titles to those that had none before, but proved themselves to be the noblest among you. However, there is one more reward that I wish to grant, the most precious reward I can give to a man who has shown himself to be loyal, not only to Westeros, but to my house.” Her father extended his hand. “Ser Tywin, please rise.”

Tywin did as he was asked and stood amongst his house. He bowed to the king. “I am at your command, your grace.”

“You have proven time and time again that you are a man of character and a man to be trusted. You led the Lannister forces after the death of your late uncle. My father was fond of you as well and it is time for you to be rewarded for all that you have done.” Her father paused for a moment. “I am happy to announce the betrothal of Ser Tywin, heir of House Lannister and Casterly Rock, and my daughter, Princess Celia Targaryen!”

Celia’s stomach dropped. 

Chapter Text

Tywin smiled down at Joanna as they danced together, spinning around one another, letting the music swell and drag them apart only for them to be brought back together again. 

It was natural. 

It was like breathing. 

“I’ve proven myself, my lady,” he said gently. 

“You have,” she answered just as softly. 

“I promised your father that I would take care of you and I will.” He glanced over to the Lannister table and saw his father laughing with one of the bannermen. “My father is in good spirits,” he said. “When the feast is finished and he is well into his cup, I shall have him agree to a betrothal and have him put his seal to the contract and send it to the Citadel before he even realizes what has happened.”

For the first time in a while, it seemed, Joanna’s lips turned up into a gentle smile. “That’s quite devious of you, Tywin.”

“I want to marry you, Joanna. I want you to be the Lady of Casterly Rock. I want to fill the Rock with laughter from you and me and our children.”

“It’s a beautiful dream.”

“Is that what you want?”

“All that you can give me,” Joanna whispered gently. “That’s all I want.”

Tywin felt himself smiling too and began to dance more excitedly. He spun Joanna around and around and she began to laugh. 

This was where he always wished to be. 

—

A cheer rose from the crowd and cups banged on the tables in agreement as the king spoke. Tywin joined in, smiling at the table to Aerys and Steffon. His friends were smiling at their father and uncle’s words. They deserved to be praised for all they had gone through. 

“I have already granted many titles to those that had none before, but proved themselves to be the noblest among you,” the king continued. “However, there is one more reward that I wish to grant, the most precious reward I can give to a man who has shown himself to be loyal, not only to Westeros, but to my house.” He extended his hand to the Lannister table. “Ser Tywin, please rise.”

Hesitantly, Tywin did as he was asked. He had no idea why the king was calling on him. He glanced at his father, who seemed very pleased with himself. He then turned his attention back to the high table and bowed. “I am at your command, your grace.”

“You have proven time and time again that you are a man of character and a man to be trusted. You led the Lannister forces after the death of your late uncle. My father was fond of you as well and it is time for you to be rewarded for all that you have done.” Was the knighthood not his reward for saving Celia? He didn’t need anything else. He was the heir to his house and the future lord of a great keep. What else could he possibly receive? What exactly did the late king have to do with any of this? “I am happy to announce the betrothal of Ser Tywin, heir of House Lannister and Casterly Rock, and my daughter, Princess Celia Targaryen!”

Tywin’s expression froze, but his heart dropped. He glanced at Joanna as the people in the hall began to cheer. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide. 

His father was grinning and stood as he clapped before patting Tywin’s back roughly. 

Tywin looked to the high table and saw that Aerys was absolutely shocked and poor Celia had grown so very pale that even her lips seemed to lose their color. 

They had no idea that this was going to happen. 

“I spoke at length with Lord Tytos and we agree that it is time for House Targaryen and House Lannister to join one another. My father thought highly of Ser Tywin and always thought he would make the ideal husband for his youngest granddaughter. I am pleased to say that he was right. To the future couple!”

Drinks were passed and poured and all Tywin could feel was numb. 

—

Tywin slammed the door to his family’s apartments and turned sharply to face his father. “How could you make this decision without me!?”

“It is a wise decision, Tywin. Celia is a princess, even if she is damaged.”

“Don’t you dare speak of her that way!” Tywin shouted. “You have no right to speak of her that way! She has more intelligence and wit than you, a man nearly thrice her age!”

“You always say that I should be smarter about things, Tywin,” his father said. “Celia Targaryen is a princess and our house shall finally be connected to the kings and queens of Westeros. It is very likely that, should you have a daughter, she might be queen. You are well on your way to becoming Hand when the prince eventually rises to that office.”

“I do not wish to marry her. I wish to marry Joanna. I promised my uncle that I would care for her.”

“A marriage to Joanna brings nothing to our house.” His father set his hand on Tywin’s shoulder. “You always say that I should think with my head and not my cock. It seems that you should follow your own advice, son.”

—

Once his anger had simmered, Tywin undressed from his Lannister finery and changed into something less formal, but still appropriate. He made his way to the royal quarters and, for a moment, departed on going to Aerys instead. However, he thought it best that he went to Celia directly. 

He knocked on the princess’ door and waited for a moment. 

“Who is it?” her voice came through the door. 

“Tywin,” he replied. 

There was a slight pause before she answered. “Come in.”

He opened the door carefully and then entered Celia’s room. He didn’t close it as he didn’t want it to appear that he had untoward intentions with the girl he had just been betrothed to. 

Celia had changed out of her finery as well. Her dark hair was visible and she wore a simple night dress and coat. She looked almost a ghost if it weren’t for the black night coat she wore. 

“Yes?” she asked, her cheeks slightly flushed. 

She truly appeared younger than the fourteen she was. She seemed so very small in that moment. The war and Tywin’s eighteen years weighed heavily on his shoulders. 

“I was unaware of what our fathers had planned,” he began.”

Her cheeks became more flush. “I was not either.”

He nodded and stood there awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but her before he found his courage to look directly at her. “I will do what I can to end this betrothal,” he said. “I will make certain the blame does not fall on you for the end of the termination of what the king has decreed before the realm.”

She said nothing but nodded. 

Tywin struggled for things to say. “I am in love with Joanna,” he said. “It is her I wish to marry and I swore to her father as he lay dying that I would take care of her. Princess, as you are but fourteen, there is time for you to be allowed to experience a love that is naturally formed between two people. Those two people simply are not you and I.” He bowed. “I promise I shall endeavor to help you be given the choice Aerys and Rhaella were not.”

She no doubt had feelings for another. She was young and her heart was so big that surely there was someone who had captured it already. 

He bowed to her one more time and then left. 

Chapter Text

“I am in love with Joanna,” he said and Celia felt as though her world was feeling at the seams. 

She shouldn’t have been surprised by that fact. She shouldn’t have been shocked that Tywin was in love with Joanna. It was plain for all the world to see. 

Lady Joanna Lannister was beautiful. Creamy skin that seemed to glow in the sunlight. Cheeks that tinged just the right shade of pink, as though the sun itself had kissed them. Hair like finely spun gold that was arranged to almost look like a crown of golden braids had been arranged on her head. Her clothes were always so fine and form fitting. She was like a diamond shining its brilliance upon all those around her. 

Of course he would love her. 

Of course he would want her. 

“It is her I wish to marry and I swore to her father as he lay dying that I would take care of her,” he continued. 

A romantic beginning to their love story, Celia was sure. A romantic gesture that even the Stranger would find beautiful. A promise made in death. A promise of protection and a life of privilege and promise. 

“Princess, as you are but fourteen, there is time for you to be allowed to experience a love that is naturally formed between two people. Those two people simply are not you and I.” He bowed. 

Celia was trying so desperately not to cry. 

Who would ever possibly love her?

All she had was the Targaryen name. She had no beauty like her sister or mother. She had no charismatic countenance like her brother. She had no crown like her father. Who would possibly love her. 

Celia was ugly. 

She was ugly, and even before that she had been plain. 

Celia refused to cry. She would not let him feel sorry for her. She would not guilt him for the way he felt when he had no say in this, just as she did not. 

“I promise I shall endeavor to help you be given the choice Aerys and Rhaella were not.”

Celia bowed her head so that he would not see the tears that began to burn at her eyes. In a moment, he was gone and Celia was left completely alone. 

A sob began to escape her lips but she swallowed it down.

She had no right to keep Tywin from his happiness. 

She had no right to such things. 

It would be better if she did not marry at all. 

For who could love her so truly as that?

To defy the orders and wishes of the king when a betrothal had been set.

Who would have their heart so set on her to do so?

—

“Father?” Celia asked as she knocked on the open door to the king’s study. 

Her father looked up at her with a warm smile. “Yes, my little dragon?” he said. “Come here.”

Celia went to him immediately and stood beside him in his chair at his desk. “Might I talk to you, father?”

“Of course. I shall never refuse you coming to speak to your poor father. Daughters have a way of often going to their mothers for advice that I fear you and Rhaella are more distant from me than your brother is.”

Celia blushed. “You are the king,” she said. “I’m sure it is that we do not wish to bother you.”

“Regardless,” he said. “What is it you wish to tell me.”

“I wish to speak of my betrothal to Tywin—Ser Tywin.”

“What of it?” he asked. “It is what your grandfather wanted. He thought your mind to be a great one and you deserve to have a husband of an equal intellect that might challenge you. And he is good and loyal to your brother. I have no doubt he will become Aerys’ Hand one day and that your children and Rhaegar and whatever other children your siblings have will marry and make House Targaryen as great as it has been for the past three centuries.”

“But is it a wise match, Father?” she asked. “I know that House Targaryen has made no marriages to House Lannister, but there are many others who could be brought to the folds especially since Ser Tywin will be Aerys’ Hand. Could I not marry into the North? Or what of the Riverlands. House Tully has two boys about my age if not a little older. Would it not be wise to pay back the house of the woman I am named for in honoring them with such a betrothal?”

Her father merely smiled at her and the smile made Celia feel as though she were a tiny girl who had barely learned to read a book. “Tywin is to be your husband, my little dragon. He shall be a good husband and a worthy man to merge within our bloodline with his.”

Celia’s lips became thin. Perhaps it would be best to speak to her mother? 

—

Celia made way to her mother, whom she knew would be in the gardens. 

“Mother?”

Her mother smiled. “Hello, sweetling,” she said. 

“Might I speak to you… about my betrothal?”

“Of course. Should we speak on what to expect when you are married?”

Celia blushed. “No, not yet, I think.”

“Then what is it?”

Celia sat beside her mother on the bench. “What if I do not wish to marry Ser Tywin?” she asked. “What if he does not wish to marry me?”

“We cannot simply always marry for love, my dear.”

“But you and father did.”

Her mother smiled again. “That we did.”

“Aerys and Rhaella married for duty,” she said. “Can I not marry for love?”

“It is plain to see with all that have eyes that you love him, my dear.”

Celia blushed. 

“And it is obvious to everyone that he loves Lady Joanna. He does not care for me in that way, Mother.”

“But he does care.”

“But not as a husband might care for a wife.” Celia stood. “Please, Mother. Speak to Father and persuade him that the match is not wise.”

Her mother smiled again and took Celia’s hands in her own. “It is for the best, my dear.”

Something inside Celia made her come to the horrible conclusion that her parents did not care about her heart at all. 

She began to wonder if they ever did.

—

Celia cried herself to sleep that night and wondered if her fate was in stone and happiness would remain forever out of her reach. 

Chapter Text

His friends were no help at all when it came to Tywin’s predicament. Aerys had no say in his own marriage so there was not much he could do and while Steffon was now a lord in his own right, and a lord paramount at that, he still had no power to change his uncle’s mind. 

It also did not help that his friends were the brother and cousin of his betrothed and so any plans he made would have to be tread carefully. 

“You could always sleep with Joanna,” Aerys suggested almost half-heartedly. Possibly because he knew it would not work. 

“I doubt the king would change his mind due to that. No doubt he would just send Joanna away and her reputation would be ruined.” Tywin ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t do that to her.”

“Then just marry my sister,” Aerys said. “I think she’s intellectual enough for you, even if Father and Mother have stopped her lessons.”

“Your sister deserves to marry for love.”

Steffon snorted. 

“What?” Aerys and Tywin both asked. 

Steffon shook his head in reply. “The king and queen were never going to allow for that. House Targaryen has grown too small. It needs to expand. If they were still allowed to take more than one wife, I’m sure Aerys would have been married to Celia as well.”

Aerys sighed. “Probably.”

“I promised Joanna’s father that I would take care of her. I meant to marry her.”

“I’m not sure what you could do to break the betrothal without ruining yourself,” Aerys said. “I won’t have my sister ruined, so the only one who could be ruined is you.”

“And how do I ruin myself without completely ruining myself?” he asked. “I refuse to be humiliated to the point that people have the same opinion of me as they do my father.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Tywin,” Steffon said. “Just give it a little time.”

—

They were in an abandoned corridor. His lips were pressed against Joanna’s. Her lips were soft and warm and Tywin wished he could stay there. Stay there with his hands cupping her face and her own on his chest. 

Tywin wished that these were stolen moments before their wedding. But that’s not what they were right now. 

“Just give me time,” he whispered, pulling away. “Give me time and soon the betrothal will be over and you and I can be together.”

“Are you certain, Tywin?”

“I’m sure. The princess wishes to be free of me as well.” Joanna had a strange expression on her face. “What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Just promise, that whatever happens, regardless of what you are able or unable to do, I shall always be first in your heart.”

Tywin could not imagine the possibility of him

Not succeeding in making Joanna his bride. “I swear it.”

And, at that, he kissed her again. 

She hummed against his lips and Tywin smiled into hers. 

—

Tywin spent his time with his friends in the keep or training in the yard. He would catch sight of Joanna often, more often than usual, but Celia was always with her because she served Princess Rhaella. 

Joanna held her head high and her Lannister pride was beautiful to see as she kept her cool. 

With Celia there—and still his public betrothed—Tywin made sure to show her some attention. He asked about her day and wished he could speak to her as he had in the past as his friend’s sister and as his own friend. However, he knew that due to their betrothal he would have to treat her a little differently and he could see the hurt behind her tempered gaze. 

He felt it twinge in his heart as well. 

—

His father decided it was time for Tywin to go back to Casterly Rock. 

He hated it. He hated that he was being dragged back for the reason he was. 

His father made it perfectly clear. 

“You shall not sour this betrothal as you soured your sister’s,” he said. “The king has eyes, as does the court. You are betrothed to Princess Celia, no amount of staring lovingly at your cousin shall change that. But I will not have you humiliate this family by throwing this betrothal in the face of the king or his late father.”

“Since when did you ever care about the perception of our family, Father?” Tywin asked.  “It’s not as though you do not humiliate us every day with your drink and whores.”

Tywin felt the sting of the slap, but took it with more pride and dignity than it was given. 

Chapter Text

Celia mourned Tywin’s absence in a way she hadn’t when he was at war. 

But she felt as though the Tywin she had grown up with was not the man that had returned from the Stepstones. Her brother and Steffon had both changed as well. Her mother said that it was because battle changed a man, just as the birthing bed changed a woman. 

She recalled how hesitant her brother was to hold Rhaegar. He would look at his son with such longing and then wipe his hands upon his shirts as though trying to rid them of any blood that had crusted itself in the grooves of them. Sometimes he would keep wiping until Rhaella knew that he might never stop and set Rhaegar down in his cradle to whisper something gently to him. 

Celia had to leave the room to give them both privacy as her brother fell to his knees and grasped at Rhaella’s skirt and cried into the crimson fabric. 

Steffon had been no better. The haunted gaze that only Celia and Cassana seemed able to pull him from but Celia was not his betrothed and pulled back to allow Cassana the chance to be Steffon’s confidant. 

Tywin’s gaze had been one of great distance. There was a calculating look, as though he were trying to figure out the best way to survive the next situation he was placed in. His obstacle now was his betrothal to Celia. 

She knew he did not hate her. 

He did not dislike her, even. 

He would most likely say that he liked her well enough. 

He simply did not love her in the way a man might love a woman. 

A husband should love a wife. 

No. Tywin did not love her. He cared for her as Aerys did. Perhaps he thought of her as a replacement for his own sister that he had been unable to see or protect for years. 

He was no Targaryen and he had not known a way to switch those feelings to a romantic nature as Aerys and Rhaella tried to do. 

What’s more, he was already in love with another. 

Joanna Lannister was beautiful. The Maiden come down to put other ladies at court to shame. 

There was something almost Valyrian about her.

Celia had heard the whispers—that Lady Joanna looked more like Rhaella than she did. It was Celia who looked odd amongst her family. She looked like she did not belong. 

Celia tried not to let the resentment coil in her belly and tumble out into her actions. She was still a princess of House Targaryen. She was the blood of Old Valyria. 

She wondered if the feelings she carried deep within her chest were mirrored by the first born sons of Princess Rhaenyra. History could only guess if the boys were truly the children of Laenor Velaryon or if they were the sons of Harwin Strong. 

But there had been enough about their appearances to have the court question if they were trueborn or not. 

She wondered if the court whispered about her too. Whispered how curious it was that she did not look Valyrian like the rest of her siblings did. Like Joanna did. 

That night, Celia dreamed she was of another house. A house whose members had dark hair and gentle features. Who cared for her heart as greatly as she loved them. 

—

Lady Joanna was polite as she always was, but now that Tywin was gone, Celia felt the shift in the other lady and it appeared Rhaella had taken note of it as well. 

It was possible the lady believed that Celia had been the one to ask her father to set the match, especially if what her mother said was true—that everyone knew that she had feelings for Tywin. 

Celia did not know if she would believe it if told otherwise. 

Rhaella attempted to have Celia and Lady Joanna become friends of sorts. They might become family soon, after all, but that only seemed to make things worse and Celia attempted to speak with her father and mother again, but to no avail, saying that it was just nerves and that she did not have to worry. She did not have to marry yet. 

Celia wished that Steffon was. It betrothed or she had another cousin or brother whom might be willing to save her from the embarrassment of marrying Tywin when she so clearly did it deserve him. 

Perhaps she could run away to the Sept of Baelor and see if she might be spirited away to Oldtown to become a Septa. 

Perhaps she could run away to Flea Bottom and pretend to be a street urchin. She did not look Valyrian; she could do it. 

But Celia was too much of a coward to dare. 

—

Aerys and Tywin were exchanging fervent letters. Celia only knew the letters were from Tywin due to the lion seal of golden wax.

She didn’t know what they were speaking of, but Celia could see that her brother was concerned.

—

News reached court that Tywin had demanded all debts owed to House Lannister were to be paid. Hostages were to be sent if not. Celia did not dare ask anyone what they thought Tywin was trying to do. 

For a horrible moment, she wondered if it was to convince her father to not go forward in the betrothal. But Celia did not think her presence was a deciding factor in anything of that nature when it came to Tywin Lannister. 

Chapter Text

His brothers thought he was taking this all too far. He could tell by the concerned look in Kevan’s eyes. Tygett and Gerion, who were only ten and five, took their cues from the brother they knew. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tywin said. “House Lannister is crumbling in debt because Father lends more than he has and is too much of a coward to demand payment.”

“That’s not why you’re doing it though,” Kevan said flatly. “You’re handling this irrationally because you hope the king will end your betrothal to the princess.”

“She is of a better age with you. If he wants a Lannister betrothal so bad, we can shift it to you after he sees that I am unsuitable.”

“I don’t want to marry a scarred princess!”

Tywin grabbed his brother by the collar. “Celia will be treated with the respect of any warrior who has gained a scar through their ordeal. You will not speak of her in that manner.”

Kevan shoved Tywin from him. “Fine, but that does not change the fact that you are going about this the wrong way. Our people will hate you for calling in this debt so suddenly.”

“Suddenly?” Tywin demanded. “They have had years to pay it off and we have just been to war. We must refill our coffers and prepare should our victory in the Stepstones not hold.”

“But to demand they send a hostage in place of payment until it is paid in full is too much.”

“House Lannister has been belittled amongst our own bannermen for too long. I shall not tolerate it.”

“Tywin!”

“These men laugh at us. They act as though the words of their lord paramount can be ignored! Why do you think so few answered the call to war in the Stepstones! How many men could have been saved—how much sooner would we have been able to return—had they fought alongside us? They are vipers at the door, Kevan. And I will not let us be overtaken by them.”

—

Whispers came that Lord Walderan Tarbeck was on his way to Casterly Rock. Tywin had no doubt that the lord hoped to incite his father to recall Tywin’s order to repay the debts. 

He had to sneer at the man who no doubt came on the orders of his wife, Lady Ellyn Reyne. The fox of a woman should have been dealt with more harshly in Tywin’s opinion. 

He had heard the whispers that Reyne woman had attempted to seduce his father before Tywin was born—while Tywin’s mother had already claimed the title of Tytos’ wife. 

She had been sent away, but the woman had been a thorn in his mother’s side and for that, Tywin would not forgive the woman or her husband. At least the current mistress of his father had the understanding to lower her gaze and make herself scarce when Tywin entered the room. 

So, when Lord Walderan entered Casterly Rock, before bread and salt could even be offered, Tywin had the man thrown into the cells of the Rock and sent word to Lady Ellyn to remind her that the son of Jeyne Marbrand was heir and that, as long as he breathed, her debt must be paid. 

—

Word came that Lady Ellyn had taken hold of two Lannisters from the Lannisport branch, but she also took Stanford Lannister—Joanna’s brother. She threatened that they would be harmed unless her husband was soon released. 

Tywin wanted to laugh despite his seething anger. 

He doubted the woman actually cared for her husband. All she wanted was to have an upper hand on the house that rightfully turned its back on her. 

Tywin told his father that if he wanted to strike fear in the hearts of those that see them as weak, he should send Lord Walderen back to his wife in three pieces. One for every Lannister. 

—

The following morning, Tywin learned his father had let Lord Walderen go. 

But matters were far worse than that. Tywin could almost forgive him for that. 

No, his father had gone a step too far and had forgiven all of House Tarbeck’s debt to House Lannister. 

Over twenty thousand Gold Dragons. Over twenty thousand , and his father had forgiven it all because he cared more about being liked than he cared about being respected. 

Tywin could not let that stand. 

Chapter Text

War. 

It was going to be war so soon after the last one. 

War in the West. 

Everyone in court was whispering about it. 

What could Ser Tywin possibly be doing? Those were only some of what the lords and ladies were saying. 

Aerys was asked the question constantly and Celia found herself being asked as well as Lady Joanna. 

However, many extended worry and words of apology for the Lannister lady for her brother had been taken hostage. 

Celia had attempted to speak with her and offer her own words and say that she was praying to the Mother, Father, and Warrior for their safe return. However, the lady had turned her nose up to that and turned to welcome the kind words of others who were not betrothed to her cousin. 

Celia’s heart twisted in her chest. She had not asked for this betrothal, yet Lady Joanna seemed to blame her all the same. 

—

It felt odd visiting her mother as she lay in bed. 

Her mother had caught some sort of illness, but not one that was spread. She was weak and looked more similar to Celia’s father than she ever had before. 

Her mother looked frail and her hair looked limp, her skin pale. 

Celia sat beside her mother and read her stories like she had when Celia was a little girl. 

It was hard seeing her mother like this. 

It was hard to know that her mother wasn’t someone she could talk to about her feelings. She couldn’t talk to her father either. 

So all she could do was be better than they were and take care of them as much as she was able. 

—

Cassana helped with Celia’s maiden cloak. It was a beautiful black velvet with red embroidery. It was heavy and sturdy. A red dragon took flight along the back and the underside of the cloak looked like a dragon’s wings. 

It was beautiful and Celia thought it might be the most beautiful thing she had ever made. Cassana thought so too. 

Celia just wondered if she would be even able to wear it. 

Chapter Text

Dear Ser, Lords, and Lady,

While my father may have forgiven the insults you have laid at the feet of House Lannister, I shall not. I shall not forget the crimes for which you have not answered for. 

You who would spend Lannister coin and do nothing to repay your debts as Lannister men, including mine own uncle, fought and died for the freedom to laze about in your keep to spend money not earned by you. Where were you when the banners were called by my father to serve the king? Where were you when the king bade us fight in the Stepstones so as not to even have the possibility of another Dance upon our heads, a Blackfyre rebellion once more plunging the realm into chaos?

I ask you, my lords, where were you and your sons and men as our prince fought bravely for the freedom you enjoy so flippantly? Where were you when my blood was spilt upon the sand and my bones were weary—waiting for reinforcements from the men you sneer and laugh at?

How many wives would not have been made widows, how many children would still have their fathers had you sent aid as you were bid by your fealty to my house and the crown?

Is there no care at all for the lives lost because you prefered to fill your own pockets with gold that could have been sent for the war effort? Did you fill your bellies with wine as my men were filled with steel? 

There can be no forgiveness. Payback the money owed so that the widows might have some comfort since your own wives have the misfortune of still having to share your bed. Payback the money owed so that children who no longer have a father might be given some reward for the bravery given while yours learn the ways of cowardice. 

A Lannister always repays his debts, and yours have been a long time coming. Repay the West what you owe, or face the wrath of lions. 

Yours,

Tywin Lannister

—

Tywin wanted to laugh at the insanity of it all when he heard that the Reynes and Tarbecks had decided to renounce their fealty to Casterly Rock—their fealty to House Lannister. 

Oh, he had made it perfectly clear to the rest of the West that he had called for the debts to be paid as those two houses had not sent payments for debts called after the war, debt from which the gold paid would have been used to give widows a modest income, fatherless daughters some form of dowry, and fatherless sons some sort of payment when they were too young to work themselves. Payment to soldiers who had lost hands and eyes and feet to the war effort. It was the least House Reyne and Tarbeck could do since they themselves sent no soldiers and no aide to the war effort. 

But no. They prefer to act as though they were entitled to all the wealth of House Lannister and the West. He made certain the kingdom knew of Ellyn Reyne and how she had profited over and over from the many lives lost in previous rebellions and made her own house more wealthy upon the misery of others. 

He made certain that none would join them in their revolt. 

And he would make certain to crush each and every one of those two houses. From root and stem he would make certain that whatever rot and begun to eat away at the West would be cured. 

Kevan had already gathered together a small army of five hundred seasoned soldiers who had lost a brother or father in the war—who knew what the aid of Houses Reyne and Tarbeck would have been worth. 

—

“Tywin this is madness!” his father shouted, barging into his rooms without so much as a servant announcing his incoming arrival. 

Tywin was putting his armor on with ease, his leathers and metalwork that would keep him safe. Armor that was worn already from a war that should not have lasted as long as it had. 

“I am doing your job, Father,” he said. “Is that not the duties of the heir?”

“You have started a rebellion! A rebellion against are vassals. Men who are battle hardened and—“

“They have grown fat on the gold you have given them and have seen nothing beyond tourneys,” Tywin snapped, standing to his full height. At nineteen he had surpassed his father in height, even just a little. He would no more be the boy who would stay silent whenever his father raised a hand to him. “I will not let them throw the West into debt because they do not wish to pay their money owed. The West and the realm have no need of such fools.”

His father grabbed hold of Tywin’s arm and shook him. “You bring shame upon our house, boy.”

Tywin shoved him off. “It is you that has brought us to this point, my lord! You who will shake the hand of those that smile while holding a dagger behind their back to stab you in yours. You have shamed us before the entire realm! You have made us a laughing stock! What have you ever done for this family? What have you ever done that was not for your own ego? You have sold your children like cattle for the slaughter and do not even keep the gold you earn for it! Rather you give it to those that will flatter to your face and hiss insults to others! I will not stand by as you bring our house low! I have done nothing but reveal the snakes you have allowed to infect our lands with their poison! If you will not be the man to eradicate the sickness, then I will!”

—

Tywin set off with three thousand men-at-arms and crossbowmen and five hundred nights. 

Their blood was still hot from the Stepstones and they were ready for whatever might come. 

Chapter Text

Conflict was rising and the West was all the court could talk about. It was as though the realm had been plunged into another war even though it was sequestered to another kingdom. 

The things they said about Tywin…

Celia wanted to scream that he wasn’t like that, he wasn’t the same person they were describing. Tywin was kind and he had a temper, true, but he was good. 

He was good and brave and loyal. She wanted to tell anyone that would listen, but so many wished to hear Lady Joanna’s opinion. Celia didn’t begrudge that—couldn’t. 

The Lannister lady was of the West and she would logically understand everything far better than Celia would, but it did not stop her from feeling as though the betrothal was even more of a farce. A false sort of hope that did not and could not bear any sort of fruit. 

“What is your opinion on what is going on in the West, Ser Barristan,” Celia asked the knight as they made their way to her father’s solar. 

“I can see what Set Tywin is attempting to accomplish, but such force might be considered too great. He has just come from one battle into another, in a way. The blood is still hot and the debts are great. They would need to be paid one way or another. But both sides are far too stubborn. But, perhaps, if the late king still lived, things might have been different.”

“How so?” Celia asked. “What could my grandfather have done?”

Ser Barristan’s lips formed a thin line. “Due to your father’s health, his strength is often questioned. King Aegon had a strength about him and perhaps the latter could have been settled by bringing the two parties to court.” He shook his head. “It does no good to dwell on such things, princess. The what ifs shall always haunt us. We cannot allow them to do so.”

—

Celia awoke to a slight commotion outside her room, and whispers. She went to her door, throwing a shawl around her shoulders and peaked out to see a servant whispering to Ser Barristan. 

“Has something happened?” she asked, opening the door wider. “Has something happened to Tywin?”

“No, Princess,” the knight said, his face ashen and weary. 

“Then what is it?” She heard her sister scream down the hall and her brother’s roar of anguish. She placed her hand on Ser Barristan’s wrist as dread began to swirl in her belly. “Is it my nephew?” she asked, tears began to prick at her eyes. “Has something happened to Rhaegar?!”

“No, your grace,” Ser Barristan said, bowing his head. “The queen is dead. She passed in her sleep. It appears the fever has taken her.”

Celia’s knees grew weak and it was only by the strength of Ser Barristan that she managed to stay slightly upon her feet for but a moment. He helped ease her to the ground so that she might not hurt herself. 

Her mother was dead. 

Her mother was dead. 

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. 

Celia covered her mouth to muffle her own cry as she wanted nothing more than to go to her mother, away from the nightmare and crawl into her mother’s arms and be assured that it had all been a dream. But she couldn’t. 

Her mother was dead. 

—

Celia stood beside Aerys, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, his other arm around Rhaella’s. Her sister held Rhaegar, her face pressed against the boy’s soft hair. Celia’s nephew would never know his grandmother. Even at that very moment he did not know why his mother was crying and would press the occasional kiss to his head. 

Celia looked up at her father, on his knees sobbing at the foot of the pyre as her mother’s body burned. 

Steffon had extended more comfort than her father had managed. His hand was clasped firmly around Celia’s and Cassana was leaning against him, whispering words of a gentle nature to him. 

Celia’s father was distraught. He cared not for the remembrance his wife had left in his children. He had become a ghost of sorts. 

But perhaps it had all been too much. 

He had lost his parents. He had lost his brothers and sisters and good brother. He had lost his wife. The wife he had chosen for himself. 

What care did he have of the children whose sorrow could not possibly match his own. 

Celia closed her eyes and pressed her face into Aerys’ side. She felt her brother’s lips press firmly against her hair. 

Chapter Text

It was obvious that the Tarbeck household knights had not seen battle in decades. It was obvious that the men had no idea what they were doing against soldiers who knew what it was like to fight for their lives upon the battlefield. 

They were easily outmatched and outpaced. 

A massacre. That’s what it was. 

However, Tywin felt numb as he fought from his horse, only being brought down once as his horse ran off. He landed hard on his shoulder, but he powered through and fought against the Targbeck men until things were taken into hand. 

Tywin’s limbs felt heavy, but he could not help the way he felt. He could not help that he had to do this. 

The West could not survive with the debt not repaid. House Lannister would not survive either if they were so easily taken advantage of. 

Once the battle was over, Tywin sat upon the chair brought for him and watched as Walderan and his two sons were forced to kneel at his feet. Tywin snarled at them. 

Unlike the men that had fought for them—unlike Tywin and his own men—Lord Walderan and his sons were clean save for the mud that now stained their knees. There were disheveled, but it was obvious that they had not fought with their men. 

Tywin was too angry to think clearly. “Lock them in the cages while I decide what to do with them,” he said, storming off. 

—

Apparently, Lord Walderan and his sons didn’t understand that they were prisoners and they had no sway in anything, that Tywin’s father was not in charge of this campaign. The man had sneered and threatened everyone that came near him. 

Tywin could not handle it anymore. 

“Bring out Lord Walderan first,” he said. “A man shouldn’t see the death of his children, or children the death of their father. I am no monster, I will not make them go through all the horrors that my men did in the Stepstones.”

He took Lord Walderan’s head. It was a clean cut, but not as clean as a Valyrian sword might have been. The man had been crying. No honor or bravado about it. He had begged for his life. No words of his sons. Perhaps he did not think Tywin would execute them. Or perhaps he did and did not care.

Tywin cleaned his sword and ordered Lord Walderan’s body removed and his head be placed on a spike. 

He executed Lord Walderon’s sons next. They had dignity at least. They both died cursing Tywin’s name. 

Tywin had their heads impaled on spears as well. 

—

Kevan had gone ahead to Tarbeck Hall. Tywin’s brother was more for peace than he was. Tywin did not blame him. His brother did not understand war as Tywin did. His brother was more hopeful that Tywin was. Always had been. 

He had tried to speak with Lady Ellyn and ask for surrender so that no more death might be brought to her or her husband’s house. 

But she had refused. 

“You are not the only lions in the west,” she had told him. “My brothers are coming, and their claws are just as long and sharp as yours.” 

Kevan looked at Tywin nervously as he told him. 

“Prepare the siege engines,” Tywin said. We will take Tarbeck Hall within the day.”

—

They were prepared within less than a day and Tywin ordered the great boulders let loose upon the keep. They came down upon the stone and walls tumbled down. 

“Set it ablaze,” Tywin said. “Set the stones ablaze and let the halls burn.”

“And those that escape?” Kevan asked. 

“Capture them. Any of the women of House Tarbeck that escape shall be sent to the Silent Sisters.”

Kevan didn’t look pleased, but he bowed his head and nodded. 

Chapter Text

“Father,” she said, entering his solar. He looked more withered than she had ever seen him. He barely held court now. Aerys was forced to step up and do the duties of king. 

“Come in, my little dragon,” her father said, pouring over books and ledgers. 

“Have you heard about what is going on in the West, Father?” she asked. 

“My future good son is making certain that the realm will not dissolve into civil war and he is making certain the West shall be ready for you.”

Celia knelt at her father’s feet. “Please, Father. Please end the betrothal. I don’t want it. He doesn’t want it.”

“It was obvious to everyone how much you admire him.”

“Admiration does not mean I should marry him. Please, Father, he does not love me. Let me stay here as a maid. Let me help Aerys and Rhaella with their children. Please, Father, please.”

“Most marriages are not blessed to begin with love. But it shall grow, my little dragon, I am sure.”

Celia rested her hands on his knee and bowed her head and pressed her brow against the back of her hands. “Please, Father, please. I will be so unhappy.”

“He will be the only one to take you, Celia. This is what your grandfather would have wanted.”

Celia’s stomach twisted uncomfortably and she let her father’s knee go and touched her scarred cheek. Tears pricked at her lashes and she bowed her head and stood. 

—

Lady Joanna made her displeasure of Celia well known and Rhaella was trying desperately to keep the peace, but her sister was not used to having so much power within the court as the oldest woman in the royal family. Rhaella had to keep the peace. She couldn’t be partial. Being partially led to favoritism and Celia knew that such things could be dangerous. Favoritism in the world of court and politics could lead to terrible things. House Targaryen was well known to incline inward and that could be dangerous, especially for whatever future Rhaella hoped for Rhaegar. 

Celia didn’t begrudge her older sister. A lot of pressure had suddenly been thrust upon her, and she was just trying to do her best. 

But sometimes Celia wished she could have her sister back—her big sister that put her first. 

“Ignore her,” Cassana whispered to Celia as they worked in the women’s circle. Cassana was determined that Celia not bow down and had her working on her maiden cloak. “She’s jealous and it proves how ugly she is on the inside. It isn’t as though you can help what your father has decided. Ser Tywin cannot either. She is just jealous.”

Celia nodded although she didn’t quite agree. Celia knew what she looked like, even if people tried to be kind about it. She was not worthy of Tywin, and Joanna knew it. And she was not kind enough to pretend otherwise. 

—

“Will you talk to Father, Aerys?” Celia asked. “Perhaps you could say something and he will set the betrothal aside. You know Tywin better than anyone. Perhaps he will help to hear you say that the betrothal should not happen.”

Aerys bowed his head and nodded. He took Celia’s hands in his own and kissed her knuckles. “I will try.”

Chapter Text

Tarbeck Hall had burned for the rest of the day and night until there was nothing left but a blackened empty shell. Tywin’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight. He could still remember carrying Celia out of Summerhall and the way she smelled from when she was burned. 

But he had no time to dwell on whether what he had done was right or wrong or if he had gone too far when a host of men raising the Castamere banner descended upon them. 

Tywin began to shout orders upon the now ambushed soldiers. He did not think the Reynes would have that many to fight against them, but one could never be too careful. 

“Take the Tarbeck women out of here!” Tywin shouted to his brother. 

Kevan nodded and ordered his men to take the women and head towards Casterly Rock. 

While the Reynes briefly had an advantage, Tywin was quickly able to get his troops to be on the offensive rather than the defensive. 

—

Soon enough, the Reyne forces began to realize they were outnumbered and outskilled. With almost half their men already dead, Roger Reyne ordered a retreat and fled back in the direction of Castamere. 

Tywin ordered his men to give chase. 

—

It took three days for them to chase the enemy forces to Castamere. Being smaller in numbers, the Reyne forces were able to reach their ancestral keep more quickly than the Lannister forces could manage. The Lannisters had doubled in size with the addition of men from House Banefort, Plumm, Stackspear, and Westerling. Houses that had fought in the Stepstones and Houses that had paid back their debts. Houses that had long since grown tired of the way Tywin’s father had squandered Lannister gold for the sake of flattery rather than the betterment of the West as a whole. 

The Reynes held themselves up in Castamere and Tywin knew that it was a fortress. Considering the fact that they had sent no aide in the war effort, they would have plenty of food to wait out a long siege. 

However, Tywin was surprised that Reynard Reyne sent terms of surrender to Tywin. He would listen to the man and see what he had to say. He might be less power hungry and vengeful than his sister had been—having been slighted from ever being Lady of Casterly Rock. 

“What do the terms say?” Tywin asked.

“House Reyne will surrender to you Ser Tywin,” Lord Westerling said. “They shall renew their allegiances to House Lannister and become loyal vassals once more in return for your brothers to serve in Castamere as hostages.”

Tywin’s hands tightened into fists. Kevan was seventeen, Tygett was eleven, and Gerion was only six. Hostages to bend House Lannister to their will. Hostages to bend Tywin to their will. 

They no doubt remembered how he had stood up to his father for the insulting betrothal Gemma was given. 

They knew that Tywin would do anything for his siblings. They knew that he cared while their father could care less. 

Tywin knew that his father would have accepted these terms, not caring that his sons would be put in a precarious decision. Not caring that his younger sons could be poisoned against their house and used to rule the West by threatening them harm should Tywin or his father rule in a way the Reynes did not think was to their benefit. 

Tywin would not let his brothers be hostages. He would not have them live in fear of what might become of them should the Reynes decide they wished to extend their threats. 

“Offering them the chance to send hostages while they collected the funds to pay their debts was not good enough for them,” Tywin said. “The offer to send hostages is for the defeated, it is not to be asked of the victor.” He stood. “Send the men to seal all the entrances of the mines and blockade their doors and let there be no escape. I shall send my own terms. If they do not agree to them, divert the nearby stream into the nearest mine entrance. The water flow should not be quick. They will have time to accept my terms or drown willingly.”

The men looked uncertain and Tywin’s heart twisted in his chest. He would give them time. They would surrender for the sake of their women and children. Tywin knew that he would.

“Tell the Reynes that I will accept their surrender, but will not send my brothers as hostages. Instead, the youngest daughter of their house, whom I believe is five at this time, will serve as a hostage in House Lannister and raised in Casterly Rock. A match shall be made for her to marry my youngest brother, Gerion. Should they accept these terms, our conflict will be at an end.”

Lord Westerling bowed his head. “Yes, my lord.”

Tywin nodded. They would accept the terms. He was sure of it.

—

Lord Reyne refused. 

Tywin had his orders carried out and waited, waited for the call of surrender. They would have to surrender. There would be enough time to surrender as the waters slowly rose. 

“Surrender, damn you,” Tywin growled under his breath and waited. 

He waited and waited. He could hear the crying from where he stood. He could hear them. He blinked away what tears threatened to come. The sound reminded him of the Stepstones and of Summerhall and it made him sick to his stomach. 

“Surrender,” Tywin pleaded. 

But no surrender came as the water continued to rise. Tywin waited until daybreak, but there was no surrender. And the screams had turned to deadly silence. 

Tywin closed his eyes. “Set Castamere ablaze,” he ordered. “Let no scavengers dare seek to claw their way into this tomb and disturb those that could have lived if not for the selfish nature of men.”

Of what men… Tywin could not say who it was he spoke of: Lord Reyne, his father, or himself. 

Chapter Text

The people of King’s Landing were horrified and impressed in equal measure at the news that House Reyne was destroyed and House Tarbeck nearly so. 

Celia, however, felt nothing but horror. 

Those poor people. Those poor children. 

Very little had reached the Red Keep about all that Tywin had said and done, but there was enough. 

Celia had gone to the set and lit candles for as many people. As she could and prayed for all of them. Rhaella and Aerys had joined her although their concern was focused on her. 

“Surely Father can see this is a mistake,” Rhaella said. “I know Grandfather supposedly wanted this, but he’s dead and he had not known Tywin would do something so drastic.”

“He…” Aerys faltered and then shook his head. “Tywin claims he has reasons, but I don’t feel like they’re mine to share.” He set his hand on Celia’s shoulder. “I’ll keep trying to talk to Father. This marriage wouldn’t make either of you happy.”

Celia nodded and thanked her brother. In truth, she wasn’t sure if the man she was hearing about was even the same. Man she had grown up with. 

—

When Celia was brought to her father’s solar, she thought, perhaps, she might be granted freedom from the betrothal. But that was not the case as she was brought in to her father’s solar to find Steffon and Cassana there as well. 

She would marry Tywin a month out from his return to the capital and their wedding would be alongside Steffon and Cassana’a to show the ever growing strength of House Targaryen. 

—

Celia was moved to the Maidenvault so that she could prepare for her wedding. She was glad that Cassana was sent with her as the two could grow closer together. Her figure good cousin was stronger than Celia was and was perfectly content speaking her mind. 

Celia wished she had half that strength. 

Chapter Text

Tywin’s father utterly refused to speak to him and he didn’t really care. He made sure his brothers were settled back into the keep and that they would be able to manage things since their father had taken on a new mistress and had apparently decided to fuck her instead of being a present figure in Gerion’s life. 

He had to make sure everything was good because he had no idea how long it would be until he returned. 

—

Tywin sent word ahead of him on his ride back to King’s Landing. He asked the king to end the betrothal as he felt that it would be unwise for House Targaryen to tie themselves to him after the revolt and hoped that he might be allowed to marry his cousin, Joanna, to help strengthen House Lannister after their power had been shaken. 

—

Tywin was surprised to only be greeted by Aerys. His friend looked grim and he knew what that meant. 

“Your father is going to push the marriage, isn’t he?” Tywin asked. 

“You’ll be married in a month,” was all his friend replied. 

Chapter Text

Celia had gone to the window when she watched her brother break the news to Tywin that he would still have to marry her. Aerys had asked if she would like to come with him and greet their friend, but Celia found that she could not. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his disappointment. 

“I’m sure things will get better,” Cassana said, taking Celia’s hand in her own. “He… Steffon says that Ser Tywin has always been very kind to you. Surely he will be a good husband. Even if love is not there, not the romantic kind at least, there will be care.”

Celia pulled at her sleeves, her burned skin itches against the clothes and she knew she would have to take another soothing bath to ease the ache that emanated from her chest. 

“I know Tywin will be good, even if his heart is not…” Celia stopped herself and took a steady breath. “But the boy we all knew and grew up with… I can’t imagine him doing what he did in the West. Those women and children. Perhaps if it was a fight between the men and their soldiers. But those were children. Children were murdered, Cassana, and Tywin let it happen.”

Her friend’s lips formed a thin line. “I can’t say anything to that, for I don’t know the young Lannister heir at all, but… Men do terrible things. Think of the horrible things men have done and still found it in themselves to love their wives.”

“But Tywin will not love me in that way,” she said, her voice high and broken. “I am no Lady Joanna. I do not have golden hair or eyes of summer green. I do not have perfect skin or beauty that one could write sonnets about. I’m—“

“A princess and sister to a future king. You have more power and status than Joanna Lannister can ever dream of. Just by living and breathing you will have more power in this world than imaginable.” Cassana took Celia’s hands in her own and squeezed them tightly. “Tywin Lannister will be a fool if he doesn’t see the mind you possess. You will do great things in the West. And you will be a good wife and if the gods are good, which I like to believe they are, you will find happiness. If not with your husband, then with whatever children you might have.”

Celia felt her lip quiver ever so slightly and Cassana wrapped her arms around her in a fierce hug. Celia pressed her hands to her face and cried bitter tears, wishing she had more to hope for than the picture Cassana’s words painted. 

—

It was arranged that she and Tywin would meet in the gardens. Cassana and Aerys were to serve as their chaperones of sorts although her father insisted that none would be needed. Whether it was because he did not think Tywin would do anything untoward or he thought that Tywin simply wouldn’t care to, Celi dared not ask. 

They walked in silence for a good long moment before Tywin finally spoke. 

“I’m sorry about your mother,” he said. “I know the loss well. I will not say that the pain dulls for I still feel the space left empty by my mother daily.”

“Thank you,” Celia said. “She thought very highly of you.” She didn’t know if that were true. 

He nodded and they continued on in silence for a moment longer. “Celia,” he said, stopping completely and turning to face her. Celia did the same and looked up at him, unsure how she should appear. She didn’t know anymore. Before she felt as though she knew everything, but now she wasn’t sure of anything. Her lessons with her brother and the other boys felt so long ago. “Yes?”

“I know that you are aware of where my heart lies. If I… if I were a colder man and knew better how to play this game our parents insist we play as pawns, like unfeeling beings meant only to be moved, I would not have allowed you to see the setbacks that are already present in our coming nuptials. However…” He paused, and for once it seemed as though he was trying to figure out what to say. He rubbed the back of his neck and this was perhaps the most nervous she had ever seen Tywin. He had always seemed so certain of everything, including himself. “You know that I cannot promise love. Not… not in the beginning, at least. But I can promise fidelity. My bed and body will only be yours and it will belong to no one else. I want you to know that. When I swear those vows of loyalty, I will mean them. I will not be my father who gifts dresses worn by my wife to his mistresses. I will not let our children be nursed by any but you unless that is something you do not wish. I will not… I will not let anyone disrespect you, Celia. I swear.”

He looked so grim and sincere that it made Celia’s heart tremble in her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry that you have to marry… that you have to marry someone like me.” She raised her hand to touch her burnt cheek, but froze and tucked her hair behind her ear instead. Her cheeks burned hotter than Summerhall and she wanted to cry, but tried desperately to keep the stinging tears back. “I’m sorry you cannot marry Lady Joanna. She… she is everything that I am not.”

“What?” he asked, his voice stricken. “No, Celia no. Do not say such things about yourself. There are plenty of men in this world who would be lucky to have the chance of your love and hand. Do not speak of yourself as though you are worth nothing,” he insisted, reaching up to touch her cheek. “You—“

Panic bubbled in her chest and she stepped back, flinching. 

She realized what she had done and looked up at him to apologize. His hand was still there, where her face had once been, frozen still in his own shock. His green eyes were wide and his mouth hung open, trying to find words. 

“I…” he began. Then, he power quickly. “Excuse me.” 

And then he fled. 

—

“Could I have a moment alone with my sister, please?” Rhaella’s voice came as Celia readied for bed. It had been two weeks since Tywin had returned and her father had still not listened to the council of his children to end the betrothal. The marriage would no doubt continue as planned and dread swirled in Celia’s belly. 

The maids curtsied to Rhaella and then quickly made their way out. 

Celia motioned for her sister to sit on the couch and Celia followed after her. “Has something happened?” she asked. “Has Father—“

Rhaella shook her head. “The only person Father might have listened to is gone from this world.”

Celia nodded, a knot forming in her throat. “What is it?”

Rhaella blushed. “I… I am. Here to tell you what is to be expected when you marry.”

Celia’s cheeks burned. “Will… will I have to bare myself to him? I… I have heard that is how it is done.”

“The parts necessary are rather easy to access when it comes to ladies and their skirts. Although.. Although there might be a bedding, I think, if you would prefer, Ser Tywin would not push the issue if you wish to remain in your shift.”

Celia nodded. There would be candlelight as well—firelight. Nothing so harsh as to expose all the ugliness of her body to her husband. 

She wondered if he would be disgusted if he touched any of her scars. 

“When a man beds a woman…” she shook her head. “No, let me start over. Your bedding will be rather different from mine. You and Ser Tywin are not siblings. The dynamic would be different.” She took a breath. “When a man beds a woman, he will get atop you and he will take your maidenhead and then the goal is for him to spill his seed inside you so that you might have children. I am sure Aerys will tell Tywin to be kind so he will… he will touch you between your legs so it will be easier to sheath his cock inside you.”

Rhaella was blushing furiously, but Celia looked at her sister in utter shock. She had never heard her sister use such language before. 

“Will it hurt?”

“Possibly. Mother told me that it did not, and I don’t know if she was being truthful or trying to be kind.”

“Did Aerys hurt you?”

“He didn’t mean to. He hardly knew what to do himself and we both got rather drunk to do it and neither of us had ever had so much before. I think I punched him in the shoulder.” She paused. “Just know that if Tywin hurts you when he enters you, it happens and then after a while it will stop. And then you’ll have your child in your arms eventually and all of it will be worth it.”

“Is it truly worth it?” Celia asked. 

“I believe it is.”

—

It was the night before the wedding and Celia was being cleaned thoroughly. Celia desperately wished she would be allowed to rest for the day, but her father had insisted she be pampered. In truth, he was having all the best ointments placed upon her skin to ease the appearance of the burns and having the servants practice different ways to paint her face to make the scars less noticeable. It was the same with her dress. Everything was hemmed just so. Her scars would not distract from that day to show the glory of House Targaryen. 

But, untruth, Celia felt like tarnished steel. 

Chapter Text

The night before the wedding, Aerys and Steffon decided to drag him to Aerys’ room so that they could gather the young lords in the Red Keep to celebrate the last night Tywin and Steffon would be wife-less. Tywin knew that this was more for his sake than Steffon’s. The Baratheon Lord seemed pleased with his bride and less hesitant.

It wasn’t much of a get together, but they did drink, so he supposed that was something. Some of the young lords who were married attempted to offer advice. Aerys was the only one who didn’t. 

Some might think it was because he simply didn’t want to share, but Tywin knew that it was because Rhaella had been his sister long before she had been his bride. 

Tywin didn’t really want to talk about Celia either. She had been like a sister as well and he had been utterly terrified of him when he had talked to her last. 

He took another long drink from his goblet until it was gone and then filled it with more wine. Dornish Red. 

“I can understand you needing to drink, Ser Tywin,” the oldest amongst them said. Lord Luthor Tyrell was an absolute idiot and Tywin was fairly certain the only reason he was there was because his wife was still bitter that she had not married into House Targaryen herself. 

Tywin set his goblet down. “What do you mean?”

“I would need to drink too knowing that my bride would look like that. I heard the scars are beneath the clothes too.”

“Lord Tyrell—“ Aerys began, his voice dark, as he slammed his goblet down. However, he did not have time to finish. 

Tywin dropped his own goblet and shot out from his chair and over the table to punch the older lord in the face. He grabbed hold of the man’s collar and managed to push him to the floor, Tywin falling on top of him to hit him again. 

Utter chaos erupted from all sides as Lord Tyrell decided to fight back. He kneed Tywin in the groin and flipped him over to punch him in the face as well. Tywin was still in immense pain, but struggled to get the upper hand again. 

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that!” Tywin felt the crack this time as he punched the older man in the nose. Lord Tyrell fell onto his back and cried out in pain. Just as Tywin was about to hit him again, Steffon and Aerys grabbed hold of both of his arms and dragged him back while Princess Nymeria’s husband set himself between them. 

“That’s enough,” the Dornishman said. 

“If I see you even look at the princess with disrespect I’ll have your eyes!” Tywin shouted. 

“Night’s over!” Aerys said over him. “Everyone out! Get Lord Tyrell a maester to make sure his nose isn’t broken!”

Tywin struggled against his friends, but the others dragged Lord Tyrell out as quickly as possible until Tywin was left with only his friends. 

—

He had a black eye for his wedding. 

Aerys grimaced when he saw the way he looked. “I’m not sure how Celia will feel about this, but Rhaella will be displeased.”

“Does she know why I have a black eye?”

“She’s well aware. It’s why she’s not going to say anything and reprimand you for not looking your damn best for our sister.”

Tywin sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Celia isn’t aware of what happened, is she?”

“No,” Aerys replied. “And House Tyrell will be without its patriarch for the ceremony.”

Tywin hummed in reply. “I don’t want her to know.”

“She’ll think we all got drunk and you got punched accidentally.”

Tywin frowned. 

“You’ve proved yourself on the battlefield. Having a black eye will make you seem human.”

“What does Celia think of the marriage?”

“She…” Aerys frowned. “Tywin, I’m going to say this because you’re my friend, but you have to remember that Celia is my sister, my youngest sister.”

“Okay,” Tywin replied. “Tell me.”

“She fought against this marriage, Tywin, because she knows how you feel about Joanna. And Lady Joanna made it abundantly clear about her feelings on the matter.” 

Tywin grimaced. 

“Whatever feelings or fascination you have with your cousin, it ends here. The second you walk into that sept, it has to end. Or, at the very least, Celia must never know that you retain any feelings for Joanna. My sister deserves to be loved by her husband, does she not?”

“She does,” Tywin agreed. 

“Then be that husband for her. Shelter your feelings away so that she might never notice them. And… and just be good to her. Discourage Joanna’s behavior. I know I can’t ask you to stay away as she is your cousin, but still.”

Tywin took a deep breath and nodded. “I promise.”

Aerys nodded. “Good.”

—

Celia was beautiful in her dress and Tywin was half convinced she was going to start a trend amongst brides throughout the Seven Kingdoms. 

She wore a red dress with gold embroidery and black sleeves with red cuffs. White lace was pinned to her hair that was braided back from her features and the veil touched the ground with the Targaryen cloak. When Tywin set his cloak upon her shoulders, he made sure to showcase the white lace. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered to her softly.”

Her cheeks turned rosy as he took his place beside her and their hands were bound. 

The ceremony itself went without a hitch and the feast went well too. 

Tywin followed Aerys’ advice and stuck close to his wife and did not dance with Joanna. It pained him to do so, but he knew that he had to. For the sake of his marriage and so he would not be as his father was. 

—

There was no bedding. Aerys indicated that it would be a good time to leave and so they did. Steffon and Lady Cassana did the same. 

Tywin escorted Celia, his wife, to his chambers. He had the servants bring her things to his chambers as they would be sharing one now that they were married. 

“Are we to share a bed, my lord?” she asked, noticing her things. 

“You can call me Tywin,” he said. “As you have before.”

Her cheeks were rosy. “Are we to share a bed, Tywin? Beyond the wedding night, I mean.”

“We are married,” he said. “My bed will only belong to you, so why should you not sleep here when the sun falls?”

She looked up at him nervously. “Might I… might I ask a favor?”

“Of course,” he said. “This is your wedding as well. And it is I who… I am to claim you as my wife. You can ask me for anything and I shall try my best to give it to you.”

“Might we… Might we close the windows and… and extinguish most of the candles? And might I… might I be allowed to keep my shift on when we… couple.”

“May I ask why?”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “I don’t want you to see me.”

Tywin’s heart broke in his chest. He stepped forward and she shrank into herself as he wrapped his arms around her. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “I won’t look, if that’s what you want,” he said. Then, he pulled away and cupped her face in his hands. “But know… Know that you are my wife. This body will be the one I will know in every single way. This will be the body that bears my children. The body I will grow old with. You can show it to me when you are ready. But you know as well as I do that our marriage needs to be consummated.”

She nodded. 

“Did… did Rhaella tell you what will happen?”

She nodded again. 

“It might… it might hurt a little,” he admitted. “But I will try to make it as good as possible.”

She nodded and then Celia reached up and touched the bruise under his eye. “Are you okay? Will you need to get some paste for the bruise?”

He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. “It’s fine.”

Then, he helped her undress, leaving her only in her shift. Then, he disrobed as well and guided her to the bed before closing the window and extinguishing most of the candles. 

He wanted her to be as comfortable as possible. 

She was his wife. She was his responsibility now. 

He would have to do right by her. 

Chapter Text

“How are you feeling, your grace?” the maester asked, pressing his fingers gently against the firmness of her belly. “Any sensitivity or spotting?”

Celia shook her head. “I only tire more easily,” she said. “Although I cannot imagine swelling anymore than I already have.”

“I am afraid you shall dwell quite a bit more, Princess Celia,” he said. “You are roughly four months along. Five months is a lot of time.”

“I am smaller than Lady Cassana though,” she said. “Surely that means I won’t get as big as she is getting.”

Her friend looked at her with mock annoyance and Celia mouthed her apology. 

“Baratheon babes have always leaned toward being bigger,” the maester said. “Boys especially.”

“Gods help me,” Cassana sighed. 

Celia’s lips turned into a brief smile. “Do you think the babe is developing well then?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “I would like to keep an eye on you though. The burned flesh is tight and I do not know how it will react to the stretching of the skin the further in your pregnancy you get. Have you been putting on the ointment?”

“Yes, every morning and night.”

“Good. And then there is your family’s history of losing babes. We simply want to be careful.”

Celia nodded. “Could you write all this down and send it to my husband?”

“Of course, your grace. I shall let you go now.”

“Thank you.” She went to link her arm with Cassana as they left. 

“Why not tell your husband yourself?”

Celia sighed. “Tywin wishes to have it all written down. He had notes sent from Casterly Rock of his mother’s pregnancies to compare the notes from mine to.”

“That sounds… excessive.”

Celia snorted. “Yes, but it is so like my husband. It’s his way of worrying, I think. The last birth in House Lannister led to his mother’s death.”

“Hm,” Cassana hummed. “You should be grateful at least that your pregnancy seems smaller than my own.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we learned you were carrying twins.”

“Gods, don’t say that. I can hardly imagine caring for one babe, let alone two.”

Celia laughed at that. “But we shall be mothers together. That should ease the burden just a little.”

Cassana smiled. “Of course. I cannot imagine who I would rather step into this new phase of life with.”

“And, perhaps, if the babes are not both girls or both boys, our families could be even more united.”

Cassana smiled. “I would like that.”

—

Celia sat beside her father as he was looked over by the maester. Aerys had all but taken over the duties as king. Their father had never fully recovered since the death of their mother and Celia truly wondered how long they would have him. 

“How is your pregnancy, my dear?” he asked. 

“It is well, father I am only occasionally dizzy and Tywin has ordered some cool mint tea from the North to help with the flashes of heat I occasionally get.”

“Dragons do not burn, my dear.”

“I have been burned, Father. I have always been more Blackwood than Targaryen.”

Her father huffed a laugh. “I know many used to think you were your Uncle Duncan’s babe.”

Celia wondered how much freedom she would have been allowed had she been her uncle and aunt’s child. “But I am yours and mother’s,” she said. 

“Yes. Have you lit a candle in the sept for me?”

“Of course. Rhaella and I went together just yesterday.”

“Good. Good. And does your sister have any good news to share?”

“Not that I am aware of, Father. I’m sure she will tell you if there is.”

“Could you read to me, child? Of the court records. I fear I can hardly hold the book up.”

Celia nodded and fetched the records Aerys had made for their father and began to read. 

—

“And how is your pregnancy?” Rhaella asked. They were speaking privately instead of amongst the other ladies. 

“Well, I think. At least the maester says that I am.”

Rhaella smiled gently. “The birth will hurt, but as soon as the babe is placed in your arms, you will forget.”

Celia smiled slightly as well. “How is Aerys? I know he has been made to carry more now that father is close to bedridden.”

“He is doing what he can, but it does not help that the Hand views him as a child and he does not get the same respect Father or Grandfather did.”

Celia nodded. 

“However, do not say anything to your husband yet, but Aerys was thinking of naming Tywin his Hand once the time comes.”

“He would be honored.”

“I know he will,” Rhaella said. “Just make sure he continues to treat you well and such power shall be granted to him.”

“He treats me well,” Celia said. 

Rhaella smiled softly. “Good.”

—

That evening, she found Tywin looking over the maester’s notes and comparing them to the scrolls sent over from Casterly Rock. Celia made certain to close the door a little more loudly than she typically would. 

Her husband never liked showing signs of weakness, but she had noticed the slight edge to him that she did not remember from the boy she had known before the war or the revolt. 

Tywin froze for a second and then turned to glance at her. “Everything seems to be progressing nicely.”

“Yes,” Celia agreed, going to stand beside him at his desk. “The maester thinks that the babe might simply be on the smaller side.”

“A girl, possibly.”

Celia smiled slightly and rubbed her belly. She so wanted to give him a boy. She was certain he would be more happy if he was certain it was a boy she was carrying. “Possibly. But there is always a chance that it is a boy and the maester is only slightly off on his calculations of how far along I am.”

“Perhaps.” He set the scrolls and notes down and stood to face her completely. He rested his forehead slightly against hers and cupped his hands around her slightly swollen belly. “You light be able to feel the quickening soon.”

“And then soon enough you shall be able to feel the babe kick.” Celia looked up at him through her lashes and smiled slightly at the content and gentle look in his eyes. Her husband was not the sort of one to show deep emotion, but she could always tell the moments of tenderness that often shone through. 

“How is the king?” he asked. 

“He is growing weaker. I don’t know how much longer he will last.”

“He loved your mother very much. It no doubt takes all his strength to remain here and not return to her side.”

“We need him still. Aerys should not be forced to be king yet. He deserves to be a prince and a father before the time for him to be king arises.”

He hummed in reply. “Will you need help with the ointments tonight?”

“I can ask my maid for help,” she said. “You need not bother.”

“Celia.”

“Tywin.”

He leaned back slightly to look at her fully. His green eyes were tired, but he sighed and nodded. “I’ll ready for bed. You may call your maid.”

Celia nodded and went to ring the bell as her husband went to the screen propped up so that he might change while the maid came in. 

Celia’s maid, Jeyne, entered and quickly helped Celia undress and began to help her apply the ointment that was used to help soften the scar tissue, especially that on her stomach. Even though it took much longer to do than Tywin dressing for bed, he remained behind the screen until Celia had then been dressed for bed in her long nightgown. 

“You can come out now,” Celia said after Jeyne curtsied and left the room. 

Her husband was dressed in a plain white shirt and loose red trousers. He made his way to their bed and then climbed in, motioning for her to follow. Celia climbed into the bed and slipped under the covers to curl into her husband's side. He closed his eyes and set his hand atop her belly and he was soon fast asleep. 

It was the benefit of the battlefield, she supposed. He had learned to fall asleep quickly. Celia took longer to find sleep as she closed her eyes and pressed her face into Tywin’s chest. 

She prayed for a boy. She prayed for an heir. 

Chapter Text

Aerys was taking on so many duties now. In a way, he was a de facto king, his father almost never appearing in court or small council meetings. It surprised Tywin that the king had lived so long. After the death of his wife, considering how much he loved her, many thought he would soon follow her. 

Yet, here there were, almost two years later. 

Aerys sat in Tywin’s solar, his eyes closed. If his neck wasn’t bent back in such an awkward position, Tywin might have thought he had fallen asleep, he had stayed there too long. 

“This would be easier if the small council actually listened to me when I made suggestions in my father’s place.”

“They no doubt remember the days you would run starkers through the keep.”

Aerys opened his eyes long enough and glared at him. “It’s not fair that my sister shared all my dark secrets but I can’t share anything. It’s my right as an older brother.”

“Celia has hardly done anything so embarrassing. I was no doubt already there when she did do something embarrassing.”

Aerys scoffed in reply and Tywin smiled. 

“Is the pregnancy going well? Steffon told me that your comparing notes to make certain Celia is developing as she should.”

“Nothing of note. She’s smaller than my mother ever was, but that may be because the pregnancy is not at the later stage the maester believes it to be.”

Aerys nodded. “At least she’s doing well. Rhaella was uncomfortable all throughout her pregnancy.”

“Rhaella was much younger than Felia, practically a child.”

Aerys grimaced. “Yes. That’s why we haven’t tried for another child until recently.”

“You’re trying again?”

Aerys nodded. “We think it would be for the best if Rhaegar had a brother or sister. Rhaella wants more children as well.”

“And whatever makes Rhaella happy…”

“I am happy to do. Considering she is the one more trapped in this marriage than I am, I might as well do as she wishes in terms of her womb.”

Tywin hummed in reply.

“Are you and Celia wanting more than one?”

“If this babe is not a boy we would have to try again anyway. However, I think we both want big families.”

“Think? You don’t know?”

“I don’t want to bother her about it while she’s pregnant.”

“You should talk about it. Rhaella and I talked about it when she was pregnant.”

“That’s different.”

“Not really. You need to talk to your wife, Tywin. Fussing over her and the pregnancy is fine, but you need to actually talk to her. She is going to be the mother of your children. Communication is necessary.”

“Since when have you been so wise?”

“Haha, I’m being serious.”

Tywin smiled sadly. “I know.”

“You’re a good man, Tywin, just talk to my sister. I’m sure everything will be settled once you talk to her. 

“I’ll talk to her, I promise.”

“Good.”

—

Tywin awoke with his cock hard. He glanced over at Celia and found her still fast asleep. Her back was to him and her hand rested carefully atop her swollen belly. 

The maester said another three months and Tywin thought perhaps three and a half. 

But it didn’t matter at that moment as he quietly slid from the bed so as not to bother his wife. 

Taking care of his want wasn’t her duty at the moment. She needed to focus on the baby and get as much sleep as she possibly could. 

Tywin went to the inner chamber of their room where they could relieve themselves. He closed his eyes as he unlaced his trousers and, as always, tried to focus on his wife’s dark hair and lavender eyes. He wasn’t sure if anyone noticed, but she had flecks of blue in them and faint freckles dusted across her cheeks. 

He wrapped his hand around his cock and concentrated as much as he could on the image of his wife, trying not to imagine blonde hair and green eyes. Trying not to imagine pink lips and a self-assured smile. 

Celia. Celia. Celia. 

When they had first been married and he had woken with a hard cock and not wanted to bother her, Tywin had come to relieve himself in a similar manner. However, he had come with thoughts of Joanna. Her name begging to fall from his lips, but he had sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to stop it from doing so. 

He had felt so much guilt then. 

He had promised Aerys and himself that he would do his best to forget about his feelings for Joanna, and he had gotten off with the thought of her while his wife was not even a few meters away. 

He had not even glanced at Joanna for the next week and tried his best to be an attentive husband—fairly certain that was when Celia had conceived their child. 

And so now, there he was trying to get off with the thought of his pregnant wife and trying not to think of Joanna at all. 

His belly coiled and he spilled. 

Guilt still swept through his chest and he cleaned himself up quickly so that he could return to bed beside Celia so that she would be none the wiser to his morning activity. 

He knew she was still very self-conscious about her appearance and he felt she might think even less of herself if she learned he did not ask her to satisfy him. 

He slipped into bed and pressed his chest against Celia’s back and placed his hand tenderly on her belly and allowed himself to sleep for a little longer.  

—

“A letter from Casterly Rock, your grace,” Celia’s maid said, handing a scroll to her. 

Tywin glanced at his wife as he straightened his tunic. “Who is it from?” he asked as the maid left. “I doubt it is my brothers.”

“It’s from your father,” she said, her voice a little tense. 

“Would you like me to read it as well?”

“It will make you angry.”

“It does not take much for my father to make me angry,” he said. “And if you think I will be angry then my father has said something offensive.”

“He wants one of the Tarbeck women to be retrieved from Oldtown and marry Kevan.”

Tywin grimaced. Considering the woman who raised them, Tywin would be wary about Celia’s safety with such a good sister. “I doubt that is the thing you think I will be truly angry about. I would be annoyed at most.”

Celia grimaced and hesitantly handed him the scroll. He unfurled it and began to read. 

Celia,

At that, Tywin frowned. That was far too familiar and informal, especially considering the two had not truly properly met and Celia was a princess of House Targaryen. 

I write to inquire of my grandson’s growth and ask when he might be due. 

I intend to have Kevan marry one of the Tarbeck girls and wish to plan the wedding after the birth so that we might all have a chance to travel to the capital to visit the babe and future heir of our house. 

Because of the immense difficulty that your sister has had in getting with child a second time, I pray that this babe is a boy so as not to damage further your already damaged body—

Tywin did not even care to read the rest of the letter and, instead, threw it into the fire. 

“I said you would be angry,” she said. 

Tywin went to his wife and bent his body so that they were seeing eye to eye. “I am angry on your behalf.”

“Aerys said you punched Lord Tyrell because of his comments at our wedding.”

Tywin frowned. This was possibly payback because of the starkers story. “I won’t deny that.”

“I do not wish for you and your father to needlessly fight.”

“My father and I will fight and argue regardless,” he said. “That need not weigh on your conscience. Your pregnancy is not as hard as Rhaella’s was—at least not as bad as a first pregnancy typically is.” Celia’s cheeks flushed a little and she looked down. Tywin took his finger to her chin and lifted her face so that she might look at him again. “You are not damaged. Alright?”

She nodded. 

—

Lady Cassana went into labor within the week and gave birth to a squealing baby that apparently, by the maester’s words, indicated Baratheon lungs. 

Steffon looked extremely pleased with himself when it was Lady Cassana had done most of the work. 

“His name is Robert,” Steffon said proudly “Robert Baratheon.”

Aerys and Tywin both have him their congratulations. 

Chapter Text

Celia sat beside her husband as they broke their fast. It was typical for them to sit opposite one another, but Tywin was insistent on her sitting beside him so that he might feel her belly and ask questions about soreness or the like. She was fast approaching the time the maester believed she would give birth and Tywin was one to worry. 

“The maester says that the birth will be hard because it is the first one, but he does not think there is any cause for concern, Tywin,” she said gently. 

“Childbirth is the battlefield of women, or so they say,” her husband said, setting his cutlery aside to kneel beside her and hold her belly in his hands. “I have seen too many battlefields to ever think that births will be easy.”

Celia hesitantly stroked his hair and closed her eyes when he rested his brow against her stomach. Their babe kicked in slight annoyance or because they knew their father was there. 

Tywin sighed gently and Celia could not help but smile just a little bit. Her husband would make a good father, she was sure of it. If his care and concern about her while she was with child was anything to go by. Aerys had been worried but not nearly as interested. Steffon was concerned, but not nearly as much as Tywin and he was a great father to little Robert. 

“Would you like a boy, my lord?” she asked. 

“Having an heir first is always a great hope for any lord, but part of me wants a girl to spite my father.”

“Would you wish to name a girl after your mother?”

“It would not be fair to your mother if we did.”

“And so what would you name her?”

“I’ve always liked the name Cersei,” he said. “It would sound similar to your name as well. You would be my girls, in a way. Celia and Cersei. What would you like?”

“Cersei is a beautiful name. And what if it is a boy?”

“Do you hope for a boy?”

“I hope for a healthy babe. I could care less about its sex.”

“They will be healthy. I have called for the best midwives to help you with the birth.”

“They treat me like mother geese. I did not think anyone could be so suffocating.”

“Have they been suffocating you?” he asked, his eyes narrowed. 

“Metaphorically.”

He smiled. “Have you finished the nursery?”

“Yes. I have it all prepared.”

“And you still intend to nurse yourself?”

“The midwives say it is best.”

He nodded. “Are your scars giving you any pain?”

She shook her head. “The ointment is helping.”

Tywin stood and then kissed the top of her head. 

—

Celia made her way to her father’s rooms. He was fading. The maesters did not know how much longer he would remain with them—but it would not be long. 

Her father had called on her to see how her pregnancy was progressing. She had felt slight twinges throughout the day, but she was certain they were the false labors that she had experienced the month before. 

Celia winced, clutching at her belly. 

“Is everything alright, your grace?” Jeyne asked. 

“I’m fine,” Celia said quickly. “I just—”

Pain shot through her belly. Her knees grew weak at the sensation and she began to crumble. 

Jeyne quickly took hold of her and helped her to the ground. “Fetch the maester and Ser Tywin!” Jeyne called. “The princess has gone into labor.”

“Inform my father as well,” Celia said through gritted teeth.”

“Inform the king as well as Prince Aerys and Princess Rhaella!”

Ser Barristan came and picked her up gently in his arms. She whimpered in pain as he rushed her quickly to the maester. She pressed her face into his chest as he said reassuring things that Celia could not even begin to comprehend at the moment. 

When she was placed in the maester’s chambers, she was soon joined by Rhaella and Cassana. They half her hands and Celia could not help but be thankful for them. 

“Tywin is outside,” Rhaella said. “As is Aerys and Father. Everything is going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. You are doing so well.”

Tears began to slide to her cheeks and she looked at Rhaella for support. “I want Mother,” she cried. “I want our mother.”

Tears shone in Rhaella’s eyes as she held Celia’s hand in her own. She squeezed them tightly and kissed her sweaty brow. “She would be so proud of you, Celia. I just know it. She would be so very proud of you.”

Celia nodded and cried out as another contraction shuddered through her body. 

“It’s going to be okay, Celia,” Cassana said. “It’s going to be okay.”

—

The babe was a beautiful girl. Pale golden hair and pale eyes that might become green or lavender with time. 

“A true Lannister,” Tywin said, holding his daughter proudly. Celia’s siblings and the maesters and midwives had given them a moment of privacy. “Birthed in a victorious battle.”

Celia smiled at him as she rested her hand on her now empty belly. “If she is like the women of your family or mine, she will be willful and beautiful too.”

Tywin chuckled and then climbed into the bed to sit beside her. He carefully passed their daughter into her arms. He pressed a soft and gentle kiss against her temple. “If she is anything like you she will be bright as well. And beautiful.”

Celia blushed and smiled down at her daughter. “You are too kind, Ser.”

“I am not one for empty flattery, Celia,” Tywin said gently. 

Her cheeks burned even more brightly as her husband wrapped his arm around her. 

Chapter Text

Although Tywin would have liked a boy, something he would not have told his wife, he was pleased about the daughter Celia had given him. 

Cersei was perfect in every way. She did not have any defects. However, as a father now, Tywin doubted he would have noticed any sort of defect. He knew that not all fathers felt this way. He knew his father never felt this way about him or about any of Tywin’s other siblings. Tywin did feel that way about Cersei though. 

A true Lannister lady with Targaryen blood running through her veins. The first child of their two houses to be born. It was amazing to think that his daughter was the first of possibly a few. 

No one could remember the first Targaryen or the first Lannister. There were legends and claims of course. 

His little Cersei was the first to be born and she was perfect. 

“She will still be the same as she was when you last saw her,” Celia told him. “I think it takes a few days, at least, for her appearance to change.”

Tywin glanced up at his wife. She had woken from her sleep and he worried for a moment that he might have woken her. “They say that their time as babes goes quickly. They say we should treasure it as much as we can.”

“Who is they, Ser?” she asked. 

“The maesters and all fathers that have come before, I suppose.”

She laughed happily at that. Their daughter seemed to like that too. She grew fussy and curled her hands into tight fists and swung them around as though in great annoyance that she was not part of the conversation. 

Celia extended her arms and Tywin placed Cersei in her arms. “She is perfect.”

“And if she is half as good as her mother she will be more good than even the best of the rest of us.”

Celia looked at him with slight knowing look. She wasn’t annoyed, but he could tell she thought he was putting on airs. 

“I am serious,” he said. “You are more good than the lot of us put together.”

“I have no good looks to recommend me, so I have to be good I suppose.”

“You have always been good, even if you were often very annoying at times.”

“Are not all little girls annoying when older boys are involved?”

Tywin smiled and sat beside her. “I am sure I was quite annoying when we were young too.”

“You were alway more mature than the rest of us.”

“Well, I was older.”

She smiled and Cersei cooed. 

Tywin would not trade that for all the gold in the world. 

—

“I am happy to announce the birth of my second grandchild and first granddaughter, Lady Cersei Lannister!” the king called before the court. “And as I have named my grandson the Silver Prince, I shall name my granddaughter the Light of the West!”

The court cheered for the baby girl but Tywin knew that there were two things going through their minds in that moment. 

A girl of Valyrian blood that could easily become their queen of Aerys and Rhaella wished to continue the intermarriage of their families, only now that would include House Lannister. Tywin would be fine with that since his daughter would be marrying her cousin rather than her brother. 

The second thing the members of the court were thinking was that if Cersei was not married to the prince, she would be married to another house and they might have the chance to connect themselves to the niece of the figure king and cousin of a future king. 

Tywin glanced at his wife, who shifted Cersei slightly in his arms. He placed his hand on the small of her back for comfort. She looked up at him and smiled gratefully, stepping closer to him. 

Celia was dressed in Lannister red and gold, her hair carefully covered in white as it always had before, but now more careful to cover the fading scars of her face. 

She had not wanted anything to grand, but the king had insisted. 

Once the presentation was over, Tywin had taken Celia to their chambers so she could spend some quiet moments with Cersei to recover. 

—

“Congratulations on the daughter, cousin,” Joanna’s gentle voice came. 

Tywin turned, still sweaty from the training yard. “Thank you,” he replied softly. 

Joanna was also wearing Lannister red and gold, only her golden curls were let loose and her green eyes highlighted by the latest trend from Dorne to like the eyes with a darker color. 

Joanna smiled as she drew closer to him. She set her hand on his arm. “From what I can see, the babe was very adorable.”

“Much like her mother,” he said, shifting back slightly. 

There was pain in Joanna’s eyes and she nodded and stepped back herself. “I wonder how soon we shall hear about another heir to Casterly Rock.”

“I’m not sure,” Tywin said. “It depends on when Celia wishes to try again.”

Joanna’s smile seemed forced. “I hope you shall be happier. Happier than you would have been.”

Tywin bit his tongue as he bowed his head and she left. He wasn’t sure if that would be the case. 

—

Tywin shot from the bed and reached for his sword before he realized that it was only a servant. 

“Tywin?” Celia asked, pushing herself up partially. “What is it?”

He kept his hand ready to grab his sword if need be. “Speak,” he ordered. 

“It’s the king, Ser,” the servant said. 

“Is my father well?” Celia asked, sitting up properly. “Has he called us for something?”

“I’m sorry, your grace,” the servant said. “The king is dead.”

Chapter Text

There was a deep sort of confusion that stirred in her belly. 

The king is dead. 

Her father was dead and Celia and her siblings were now orphans. Aerys was now king and Rhaella his queen. No longer was Celia the daughter of the king, but his sister. 

Deep rooted confusion and nausea plagued her more than any bout of morning sickness had. Celia clasped a hand over her mouth and curled in on herself. 

Tywin’s arm was set securely around her as a sob ripped itself from her lips. She didn’t wish to wake Cersei. She did not wish to trouble her daughter with any sort of knowledge that something was wrong. 

Her children would never know their grandparents by her. They would never know that Celia’s mother had the habit of humming when she was bored and hummed into cheeks that she kissed. They would never know that what her father’s gentle voice commanded whenever he praised them. 

Her children had been robbed of all of that. She had hoped that her father might serve as a better grandfather than Tywin’s, but now he was all that they had left. 

Tywin pressed his lips tenderly to the crown of her head and seemed to motion for the servant to leave. Celia held onto her husband, not wanting to let him go. 

It was a dream. It was all a dream or some sort of mistake that had not been caught before being told to her. 

Her father could not be dead. 

He had come forward and announced Cersei to the court. He did not have to do that, and yet he did. He did and so he was well. 

Tywin’s voice tumbled softly into her ear as he tried to comfort her, but Celia did not want comfort. She wanted her father. 

“He can’t be dead,” she whispered, looking up at her husband. “He can’t be. It’s a lie.”

His expression was that of regret and sorrow. “Do you want me to check to make sure the servant didn’t mishear?”

She nodded. 

Tywin took a steadying breath and kissed her brow. “Go to Cersei. I shall be back as soon as I know what the truth is.”

Celia watched him go and rushed to her daughter’s crib and picked up the sleeping babe. She held her daughter close and began to rock her as tears slid down her cheeks. 

—

Celia made certain Cersei was dressed in her mourning black. She had made sure the fabric was comfortable. Her rosy cheeks were made pale by the color and she looked more Lannister now than Targaryen. She then gave the babe to Jeyne to hold as she went to Tywin to make sure that his clothes were in order. 

He wore black. It was in the style of the Westerlands, but it was all black. His blond hair was combed back and his jaw was clean shaven, none of the stubble that had begun to grow since the birth of Cersei. He had wanted to look presentable as the late king’s good son. 

He looked handsome, but he too was pale and Celia could not help but worry for him. He and Aerys has run themselves ragged trying to prepare the funeral. There was no one of their house to help them. They had no aunts and no uncles to guide them on how everything should be done. No experienced adults to help them in their time of mourning. 

Tywin set his hands on Celia’s shoulders and she looked up at him. “How are you faring?”

“Well enough, I suppose.”

His fingers went to her hair, letting them tangle ever so gently. “You’re not wearing anything to cover your hair?”

She shook her head. “It feels wrong to wear white when my heart is anything but joyful.”

His hands went to her face and he cupped her cheeks gently. Although the sensation was slightly dulled, she could feel his thumb run along the uneven skin of her scar. 

His lips pressed against her brow and then against her lips. It was a gentle kiss. Gentle and careful. 

Celia kissed him back as well and after a few moments, he pulled away and rested his brow on her own. “It will be okay. We will get through this together. We are a family, all of us.”

Celia nodded and wrapped her arms around Tywin’s waist and held him tightly. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and he held her in the safety of his arms. 

—

The funeral was as grand as Celia’s grandfather’s but there was something more bitter about it. Her father had not reigned long and had not garnered as much respect as the previous kings had. 

Celia held her daughter tightly to her and Tywin had his hand carefully set on the small of her back for comfort. 

She could not watch when his pyre was lit. She dared not watch. 

It felt as though this was the last cruelty her parents would bestow upon them, having to bury them so early. 

Celia was only six-and-ten. She was too young to be an orphan. 

Chapter Text

Being the heir—whether to the Iron Throne or the lord’s seat at the high table of a great keep—was always a sort of strange position to be in. Second and third and fourth sons we able to find their own personal glory and power because they had no highborn title to inherit. Rather, they earned theirs. Heirs must wait until the old lord or king was dead before they were fully allowed to reach their potential. 

It was a strange place to be in relation to their fathers. The only way that they might revive the fullness of their inheritance was for their fathers to die. 

There were those like Steffon, thrust into their father’s shoes when they had barely come into themselves as men. 

There were those who were man for a long time before they were given their place as lord or king.

And then there were those flung in between that had to step forward into the position long ago because they had to, but only now were they given the proper authority or respect to bear the weight of such a burden. 

Coronations were a strange affair as well. I was preceded by a funeral, the funeral of a king where full mourning was expected.  And yet the kingdoms could not remain in mounting as long as a keep might have been allowed if they were of a lower rank. 

Coronations dashed that sense of loss as they were forced to celebrate the rule of a new king, a younger king. 

Aerys was an absolute wreck of nerves and Tywin had never seen him lean so heavily on Rhaella before. To the point where he insisted that Rhaella be crowned beside him. 

And so, Tywin and his wife were given the important role of crowning their new king and queen. Tywin was to crown his friend and Celia was to crown her sister. 

The royal robes were fitted and the crowns polished. The tables were arranged and the food was prepared. 

Tywin knew there was a great bit of celebration when it came to Aerys’ ascension. He was young and healthy. He had an heir already. He had proven himself in battle, having been knighted due to his accomplishments. 

Tywin was certain that Aerys would make a good king. 

He was certain of it. 

—

“Tywin, could I speak with you privately?” Aerys asked, glancing at his sister who had been walking with Tywin in the garden with Cersei. 

He glanced at his wife and Celia smiled at him slightly and bowed her head to Tywin and then turned to curtsy to Aerys before continuing on her way down the path. 

Aerys watched her go as she began to coo at their daughter, making the little girl make happy noises. 

“I see you are keeping your promise,” Aerys said. “To try, at least.”

“There is a shift when a child is involved, I think.”

Aerys hummed. “It is the same for myself and Rhaella, although our love still has its basis on that of a brother and sister.”

Tywin nodded and turned his focus to Aerys. “Is there something you needed?”

“I have a rather important question to ask you.”

“Oh?” What needs to be helped with the coronation? I think everything has been well thought and planned. But if you have noticed something, I shall do my best to rectify it.”

“I fear what I must ask you to carry an even greater burden.”

“And what burden is that?”

“I want you to be my Hand, Tywin.”

He froze. “What of Edgar Slone?”

“He was always overly cautious with my father and did not push him, I fell, when he needed to. He never wished to give my father any sort of contradictory advice and I want someone who will be honest with me.”

“You think I will be honest?”

Aerys smiled. “I know you will say I am being a fool when I am acting foolishly. You have always had a better head on your shoulder than the lot of us.”

“Do you think I would be the best choice though? There are people far more experienced than I am.”

“If my Uncle Ormund still lived, I would name him. However, he is gone and I can’t put this burden on Steffon.”

Tywin nodded. “If you wish to grant me this burden, then I will accept it.”

Aerys smiled and put his hand on Tywin’s shoulder. “Thank you, brother.”

—

“The people of Westeros!” Tywin called from his place on the Dias of the Sept of Baelor. “As we mourn the loss of our beloved king, Jaehaerys II, we must also find hope in the rise of his heir and eldest daughter take their rightful place as our king and queen!”

The lords began to clap as the Kingsguard made their way through the aisle and pulled their swords to create an arch of steel as horns began to blare. 

Aerys entered the sept with Rhaella on his arm. Both were dressed in the colors of House Targaryen. The cloak Aerys wore was modeled after that of Balerion’s wings and and the cloak Rhaella wore was modeled after that of Old Valyrian cloaks sported by portraits of Queen Rhaenys and Queen Visenya. 

“It is our great fortune and privilege to witness the beginning of a new dawn in Westeros, a new age for our people.”

Aerys and Rhaella turned to their people and they bowed and curtsied to their people before returning to the altar and knelt down. 

“Your king,” Tywin shouted. “King Aerys Targaryen the Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!”

He was given the crown by the High Septon and turned and placed it upon his friend, brother, and king’s head. 

“And to your queen!” Celia’s voice came, clear and strong. “Rhaella Targaryen!”

At that, she placed the crown upon her sister’s head.

The applause was thundering. 

Tywin could only pray that this was and would be a time of peace.

—

It was an odd sort of weight that rested on his chest as he touched the pin that signifies his place as Hand of the King. 

It was something he had always wanted. An accomplishment that was based on his own merit rather than the name his father had given him or his place as heir. 

“You deserve it,” Celia said, brushing his hand from the pin and straightening his jerkin. 

“Do any of us deserve this?”

“I suppose no one is truly worthy of anything. But you are a good and honorable man and I know that you will help my brother become the king he can be.”

“You put much faith in me.”

She smiled up at him. “You saved my life and ate the reason I am here to be with them.” She looked at Aerys and Rhaella as they danced. “We have already lost so many. I am glad I was not added to that number.”

“I am glad of that too.” He rested his brow on her forehead. 

Celia smiled softly at him and then kissed his cheek. “I will go to Cersei now;” she said. “She needs to be fed and she has not been so long away from us. I know Cassana has done the same for Robert.”

Tywin nodded and kissed her softly. “I shall join you in our rooms once the feast is over,” he said. “I need to make certain your brother does not drink too much.”

Celia laughed at that. “I think he is too nervous to drink, but I think your presence here is wise regardless. I shall bid my brother and sister goodnight before I go.”

Tywin nodded and watched Celia go. He sat at the high table and watched the festivities. Despite its grandness, they saved quite a bit of money which could be put into other things of merit. 

A servant came to Tywin and bent slightly to whisper in his ear. “You are required on the upper balcony, Lord Hand.”

Tywin narrowed his eyes, but nodded. Perhaps a member of the Small Council wished to discuss things with him in private. Or perhaps his predecessor wished to give him advice on his current role. 

Regardless, the politics had begun. 

Tywin made his way to the upper balcony where none had gathered. Everyone wished to be in the presence of the new king and queen and seek favor by compliments. 

While Tywin had supposed there would be one of his fellow council members or another lord of past rank, he found Joanna instead. 

“Has something happened in the West?” he asked, approaching her quickly. She held a note in her hand and he worried that some news had come. Was his father dead?” An unusual feeling swirled in his belly and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. 

Joanna pocketed the note and turned to face him, dressed in Lannister gold and red. “I told the servant that there had been some news so that he might fetch you. But that is not why I called you.”

Tywin stopped in his steps as she was there at arm’s length. “What is it you wish to speak to me of?”

“Do you love her? The princess I mean. She has a large heart, but that is about all that can be said of her. You have always been one to admire beauty when presented to you.”

Tywin flushed. “I do not need to discuss my marriage with you, Joanna.”

“Don’t you?” she asked. “Who else might you speak to? You are friends with the king and Lord Baratheon, but they are brother and cousin to your wife and can hardly be someone to whom you can share your marriage troubles.” She laid her hand on his chest, just over this pin. “You are a passionate man, Tywin. You should not be asked to hold yourself back for the feelings of a princess you did not want.”

“Joanna…” he said, stepping back. However, she stepped forward, closer than she had been before. To the point where he could feel the warmth of her breath fan across his skin. 

“You are a lion, Tywin. Should you not take what you want?” She lifted herself slightly and pressed her lips against his. 

Tywin felt his self-control crack as he took hold of Joanna’s face and kissed her back more fiercely. He had no idea how long they stayed there, clawing at each other until they were flush together, Joanna’s back against the wall. 

He was then able to father himself enough to pull back and let her go to catch his breath. Tywin covered his mouth with his hands and closed his eyes. 

“That cannot happen again.” At that, he stormed through the halls of the Red Keep and made his way to his chambers and found Celia already in her nightgown. 

“Have you tired yourself already, my lord?” she asked, smiling at him from their bed. Her expression dropped at whatever expression she saw. “Tywin?”

Tywin stormed towards her and cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, kissed her fiercely. 

Celia was frozen for but a moment before melting into his kid and his embrace as she began to peak off his clothes and he did the same to hers. Tywin was careful and gentle, reigning in whatever ferocity Joanna had called in him. 

He sank into his wife as she cried out his name and he took her quickly, washing away any thought of Joanna at her touch. 

Chapter Text

Celia was curled beneath the covers of her bed, the red and gold dim in the moonlight that filtered in through the curtains. The sound of the sea crashing against the rocks sang a mournful song of longing. Everything else was quiet. 

The Red Keep was asleep, all except her and perhaps the occasional guard that was far away from their rooms. 

Tywin’s sword gleamed in the moonlight, carefully polished and cleaned every night, a habit from Tywin’s time at war. Had there been a noise that did not belong to the sleeping capital, her husband would have woken and ordered Celia to the nursery adjacent to fetch Cersei and flee down the passageways. 

She knew he was disappointed in the fact that she had given him a daughter, but he did not hate their daughter and she knew that her husband would never let any harm come to their child and not leave their daughter without a mother. 

Her husband was above the covers, completely bare. He felt too hot in the stilted air of King’s Landing. His skin gleamed with sweat, from the heat and their coupling before he fell asleep. 

His tan skin glistened and the moonlight made every valley and curve of his body more distinct. 

His beard was getting a little thicker, but Celia knew that he would want to have it trimmed soon, whether or not he did it himself or if he had someone else do it. Celia would never tell him that she prefered his face this way. She knew the only reason he kept it was probably because Lady Joanna had mentioned once long ago that she thought him to look very noble with one. 

But this was hers and not Lady Joanna’s. The Western lady would never see Tywin like this. 

Not a Tywin who was tense and ready to move should the time call for it, but a Tywin whose body was lax, an arm up and under the back of his head, his other hand resting on his stomach. 

Her husband was handsome. She felt her husband was the handsomest man in all the Seven Kingdoms. 

Celia heard Cersei begin to fuss and Celia’s breasts were aching. She pushed herself up and slid from the bed. Her husband grumbled at the shift and flexed himself until he set himself at ease. 

Celia went to the nursery and picked her daughter up and began to kiss her cheeks and ease her into the more wakeful rest so she could be changed and then fed. 

She didn’t care to put on a robe as she didn’t have to step outside their rooms to fetch their daughter. 

Her daughter was beautiful, pale golden tufts of hair and bluish violet eyes. A perfect little princess. Celia whispered gently to her daughter, stories her mother had once told her a long time ago. She was carefully certain she was making up half of the details. 

When Cersei was changed, Celia carried her daughter to the chair and sat down to nurse her. Her daughter was not a fussy baby, nothing like Rhaegar who had cried and demanded attention at all times from anyone who was in the room. Cersei was the sweetest child and Celia felt blessed to be her mother. 

Her daughter could also look at her naked body and see nothing wrong with it. To Cersei, Celia was not disfigured. 

When Cersei was finished, Celia stood and rocked her daughter and set a towel over her shoulder and began to burp her until she was finished and Celia was able to settle her back to bed. 

Celia returned to her own room and found her husband awake and sitting up against the bed. 

“Is she settled?” her husband asked. 

“Yes,” Celia replied, slipping back into the bed. “As always, she was easy to settle.”

He wore a night shirt now and Celia felt a little disappointed. “Good.”

“She looks like you, I think,” she said. “Despite the color of her eyes. Her eye shape is yours.”

He nodded. 

“Perhaps we shall have a boy next,” she said. Celia rubbed her belly even though he could not see it. “Perhaps I am carrying him now.”

Her husband looked down at her as she looked up at him, finding his gaze a mix of emotions she could not name. “Perhaps you are.”

—

Celia woke up to her husband’s arm around her waist, his forehead pressed against the back of her neck. Their legs were entwined and Celia eased into the warmth of him. The great Tywin Lannister was a cuddler. This was something else that Lady Joanna did not get to experience. 

She did not get to experience this softness from the great lion Tywin Lannister. She did not get to feel this warmth. 

Celia set her hand atop his. She prayed that she was with child already. She prayed that they had a son and she could imagine how happy her husband would be. He wanted a son. It was what all men wanted. A son. An heir. 

She moaned softly as she felt her husband harden against her. Her husband grunted as he began to rut against her. She hummed softly as Tywin shifted them onto her stomach. Her back was arched and she was moved to her knees and her husband slipped into her with ease. 

He took her languidly, as though half asleep as he took her slowly. 

She gasped and mewled, keeping her face to her pillow, not wanting to wake their daughter. 

“Will you give me a son?” he growled into her ear, straining against himself for her. 

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He came with a grunt and his fingers went between her legs and she fell shortly after. He pulled out of her immediately. Tywin rolled back to his earlier position. 

And then he was back to as he usually was. Celia watched him for a long time before she drifted off to sleep. She dreamed of a husband that loved her. Tywin only cared for her now. But perhaps that feeling might grow to love. Perhaps once she had given him a son. 

—

Celia slipped once more from the bed and had a quick bath drawn for herself and once she was finished, she had one drawn for her husband. Then, she went to the wardrobe and picked out her husband’s clothes for the day. A rich red tunic that she had embroidered golden lions prowling around his collar. A white undershirt that would be breathable for the recent heat. Black trousers with red and gold embroidery. And then black boots. A gold belt and a chain and pendant that indicated his place as heir to the West. 

Celia dressed herself with the help of a maid. She would wear a golden dress with a red dragon embroidered against her bodice. She wore a white high collar of golden lions to match her husband’s. Her maid anchored the white veil over her dark hair and placed a golden circlet atop her head to keep it in place. 

She heard movement and looked back and saw her husband rising from their bed and going to the bath, which she always called for him. She ushered the maid away to leave her husband at peace with only her to disturb it.

He shrugged off his nightshirt and sank into the water, sighing in relief. He prefered cold baths. 

Celia went to her husband and began to wash his hair. Her husband loved being groomed, even if he would never admit it. She ran her fingers through his golden hair and then dried it quickly when it was clean. Her husband rubbed himself down and then stood. He wrapped a towel around himself and he dried himself off.

Tywin inspected the clothes and nodded in approval. Celia went to him and helped him dress, making everything just so. He watched her as she straightened his collar and for a moment she thought that he was looking at her collar that matched his. Instead, he touched his cold fingers to her neck and she shivered as he touched the uneven skin. 

“The scar is getting irritated,” he told her. “Perhaps you should forgo the collar.”

She touched his hand and pulled it from her neck. “It’s fine. I can’t feel it. I will go to the maester for some lotion to soothe it if it becomes too irritated.”

Her husband said nothing and she worried that she had pushed him away. “Your family will be expecting us,” he said and offered her his arm. “Come, my lady.”

She set her hand gently at the crook of his arm and hoped that today would go well.

Chapter Text

“No,” he awoke to his wife’s distressed voice. “No, no, no.” 

Tywin sat up and saw that Celia’s moonblood had come. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her fingers were covered in that blood, as though to make certain she were not dreaming. He slid off their bed and ordered the servants to bring his wife a bath and soothing tea. 

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh,” Tywin soothed as he took a cloak that already needed to be washed and wrapped her carefully in it and picked her up in his arms. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It is just not our time to have another babe, Celia,” he whispered gently. Tywin pressed his lips into her hair and shifted her in his arms so she could wrap her own around his neck. He could feel the heat of her tears slide down his cheek. Once more Tywin was reminded of the youth of his wife and the slightness of her frame. 

“I want to give you an heir,” she sobbed. 

“Cersei is my heir. I know you are Targaryen and your ways are different, but Cersei is a Lannister. And daughter always comes before an uncle and none of hers would dare take her place as Lady of Casterly Rock should something happen. Cersei is my heir and with a mother like you, she would be the smartest lady that has ever graced that title save perhaps you, her mother.”

Celia gave out a breathy chuckle as tears still fell. Tywin kissed her hair and waited until the servants finished preparing the bath. When they were done, he ordered the bed to be stripped and sent to the wash. He then placed his wife carefully in the bath and shared it with her, helping her clean. 

“You don’t have to, Tywin.”

“It is not the fault of the ground that nothing has grown, it is the gardener,” he said. 

“I want to give you a son, Tywin. I want to give you a male heir. I… I do not wish for Cersei to ever be put in a position like… like Rhaenyra Targaryen.” She said the same quietly as though it were a name that could never be uttered at full volume. 

Tywin shifted Celia so that she sat between his legs. “Celia, our daughter would never be placed in such a position. Never. Because you shall not die in childbed, if the maesters told me at this very moment that it would be dangerous for us to try for another babe, we would stop trying and we would wait until you were better and the maesters thought you would handle it. My one mother died in childbed and I will not force another woman into such a fate. Our daughter shall not be without her mother. This I swear to you.”

“You cannot promise me that, Tywin.”

“I am Tywin Lannister,” she said. “Heir to Casterly Rock and Hand of the King. My word is law.”

She smiled up at him shyly and he kissed her softly. 

“And as your husband, I ask that you allow yourself to rest today. Spend it with Cersei. Rhaella will understand.”

Celia nodded and pressed a quick kiss to his lips and he smiled gently and kissed her back. 

—

Sparring with Aerys was always a good way for Tywin to blow off steam—and there was a lot of it pent up from his discussion with Celia that morning. 

He knew what it was. Guilt. Massive guilt over the feelings Celia carried in her chest about their daughter and her place in his house and in his heart. 

Guilt because he knew the history of Rhaenyra Targaryen. By Andal law she had a right to the throne up until her father remarried and had a son. A son whose birth changed the succession but was never acknowledged because the king kept his initial line of succession without ever changing the law. 

Her position had been precarious because her father had remarried and had been given a son by his second wife, a wife he had chosen for himself rather than having been chosen by the king. 

Guilt swirled in Tywin’s stomach as he sparred. 

She thought he would remarry if she died. And he knew that she could guess who he would marry. He should have never told her that he did not love her as a man did loved a woman. The anxiety it placed on her… he should not have said anything. He should have remained quiet, protected her heart as his father had never protected his mother’s. 

Celia was a good wife and a good mother and she would make an excellent Lady of Casterly Rock. She was gentle and kind and was much stronger than anyone gave her credit for. However, he knew that her confidence had been shaken ever since the fire and her father ceasing her studies had not helped. 

“You seem to be on edge,” Aerys said. “Anything I should know about?”

“Personal things,” Tywin answered with a blow. “Marital things.”

“As someone who had been married longer, perhaps I can be of assistance.”

“My marriage is rather different from yours.”

“Partially. However I know my sister had received her moonblood and I know she wants to give you an heir. Rhaella has decided it was time to try for another child too.”

Tywin stumbled at that revelation and Aerys nicked him in the shoulder because of it. His friend winced and Tywin wiped away the blood with his sleeve. “You and the queen are going to try again?”

“Yes,” Aerys replied. “She wants another babe and I am the only one who is allowed to give one to her.”

“Do you want another babe?” 

“I know the other members of my council are bothering me about it.”

Tywin nodded. “The only thing that is keeping them from bothering me too much is that you and my sister had a girl and they think a tentative betrothal between our children would be satisfactory.”

“You want my daughter as your son’s wife?”

“With parents like you and Celia, whatever idiocies my son inherited from me will be nipped quite unceremoniously in the bud before they bloom properly.”

“You would need to talk to Celia about such things.”

“Not in her present state nor while our children are so young. Just pretend you are contemplating the idea should any other members of the council ask.”

“As my king and good brother commands,” Tywin said with a mock bow. 

Aerys rolled his eyes. “Let’s get you to the maester. Celia will be properly miffed if I leave you cut and bleeding.”

—

“What happened can never happen again,” Tywin told Joanna as they walked in the garden. They were with Rhaella and the crown prince who were at the center of the other ladies in attendance besides Tywin’s wife. “It was wrong and a moment of weakness that should never be repeated.”

He spoke quietly and chose this time to speak with her so that he would not be alone with his cousin. 

“You missed me back,” she said. “And I felt how much you wanted it.”

Tywin clenched his jaw. “It can never happen again. My duty is to my wife and my wife alone.”

“Tywin.”

“Speak to the queen about setting a proper marriage for you as one of her ladies. Do not seek me in that manner again.”

And with that, he gave his farewell to the queen, citing a previously agreed upon meeting with his wife, and left. 

—

Tywin returned to his rooms to find Celia asleep in their freshly made back, her tea cold, and Cersei wriggling about with Celia’s hand on her belly. 

He smiled at the sight and went to pick his daughter up and then pulled the covers over Celia so that she might remain warm. 

He rocked Cersei carefully in his arms and whispered how happy he was that she got to have Celia as a mother. 

This was the lot the gods had given him. And he would not waste it with what could have beens. 

Chapter Text

Life in the Red Keep continued to March forward despite all that had happened and Aerys’ reign was able to begin peacefully. 

He was a good king who listened to his council and Tywin most of all. 

Celia was proud of her husband and the way he was able to garner the attention and respect of the other lords on his own merit without having to rely on the favor her grandfather, father, and now brother show him. He was a proud man with a good head on his shoulder and Celia did all that she could to make certain he knew how proud of him she was. 

Steffon was settling in happily into his marriage and Cassana’s friendship with Celia truly began to blossom and the two of them adored meeting together with their two children and watch them play together, before titles of lord and lady might impress upon them the differences of their sexes and the advantages and disadvantages those things might give them. 

Steffon was a fantastic lord to the Stormlands and he often traveled to handle things and the lords his father had trusted made certain their friend and lord’s successor was well equipped for the duties he had to carry out. 

However, the thing that got the capital buzzing the most was Rhaella’s pregnancy. She was rather far along at almost seven months. Everyone was thrilled at the possibility of a little prince or princess. Celia knew that her siblings didn’t truly care about which they were having, but Celia thought it was adorable the way they constantly sniped at one another about whether they were to have a boy or a girl. Rhaella was certain the babe would be a boy while Aerys was insistent that the babe was going to be a girl. A precious little princess who would be an absolute jewel in the royal family. 

Celia hoped it was a girl as well as she would be close enough in age to be friends with Cersei. 

However, in the end, none of it mattered as all that truly mattered was the health of Celia’s sister and that the babe came easily, more easily and with less tragedy than Rhaegar. 

Celia could not wait to meet the babe she knew her siblings had long been trying for. 

—

As Celia was readying for bed with Tywin, a knock came to the door. Before either of them could answer, it swung open to reveal Aerys, his face pale and ashen, tears sliding down his cheek, blood staining his head. 

“Gods,” Celia whispered as Tywin rushed to him. 

“What happened?” her husband demanded. “Who attacked you? Are Rhaella and Rhaegar alright?”

“It’s not my blood,” Aerys whispered. “It’s… Rhaella… she won’t stop bleeding. She won’t…” a broken sob ripped from his throat and he sank his bloodied fingers into his silver hair. “I already called the maester, but I can’t… I can’t…”

Celia did not stop to check on her brother and fled towards her sister’s chambers and heard the screaming long before she got to the door. She flung the door open to see the servants and the maester cleaning up the blood as Rhaella was screaming for her baby, screaming and crying in a way Celia had never heard her speak before. 

Celia went to her sister immediately and shooed some of the servants away from her and wrapped her arms around her sister, not caring about the blood or any of it. 

“My baby,” Rhaella sobbed. 

Celia did not know what to saw and simply held her sister tightly and began to rock her as their mother might have and kissed her hair as Rhaella clung to Celia and hurried her face in Celia’s scarred neck. 

“I was careful. I was so careful. Why? Why did the gods have to take them? Why did the gods take them?” 

Celia watched as the blood continued to come and her sister’s sobs continued to fill the room with a haunting sound that only a woman could possibly understand. 

She could not understand the cruelty of the gods, nor did she want to. 

Had not the gods taken enough from them already?

Celia felt tears stinging her eyes and held onto her sister tightly as the maester was forced to come and examine her and eventually gave her milk of poppy to sleep. 

The babe has been lost and Celia could not imagine the pain that her sister endured and she could not imagine the knowledge that her sister would wake tomorrow with perhaps the briefest thought that she was still with child. 

—

Once her sister had properly fallen asleep, Celia made her way back to her chambers to clean herself off and called for a bath. 

“My brother?” she asked as she saw that he was gone and Tywin was sitting on the floor, his fingers combing through his hair. 

“Sent to his chambers with a bath to be had and milk of the poppy on its way.”

Celia nodded. “I have called for a bath,” she said.

“As have I. I shall ask that there be a big tub.”

Celia nodded and went to her husband and helped him up. She waited for but a few moments before the large bath was brought in and once the servants left she helped her husband undress and then he helped her. They slipped into the hot water and Celia felt relief in it, but it did not take away the pain of the fact that her sister had lost her babe. 

“You always seem to know everything, Tywin,” Celia said softly. “Why do the gods seem to punish the most innocent and take them before they can even enjoy the fruits of life?”

He looked at her sadly. “I don’t know,” he said. “I am no god, Celia. I do not know their thoughts and I cannot guess their reasons.” He held his hand out to her. “Come here.”

Celia did as he bid and he pulled her to him and set her between his legs and hugged her tightly. “All we can do is be there for them as they live through this heartbreak. It is all that we can do.”

Celia nodded. “We shall be their support. They should not have to worry about anything right now, just focus on their own healing.”

Her husband nodded his head and pressed his brow into her shoulder. 

“Might we sleep in the nursery tonight?” she asked. “I wish to wake and see Cersei immediately.”

Tywin nodded. “I want to have her close as well. Once we are clean and dry, we can go to her.”

Celia nodded and felt some tears fall. “I wish the gods were not so cruel.”

“As do I,” he whispered gently. “As do I.”

Chapter Text

Tywin sat in his bed, his head full of all that he needed to do as Hand, as a good brother, and as a friend. The sheets were bunched around his hips and the room smelled of perfume from Dorne and the West. 

He glanced at Celia who was curled next to him. Her bare shoulders revealed her scars and Tywin was glad his wife seemed to have grown more comfortable in her own skin. At least, for now. Perhaps she would not be so comfortable once her mind was no longer worrying elsewhere. But for now, she didn’t seem to care. 

Even so, Tywin pulled the sheets over her shoulders to keep her warm. He then tucked some stray dark hair from her face. However, that brought his wife from her slumber. 

She hummed slightly against the sleep that clung to her. Feeling his fingers seemed to bring a smile to her lips though. 

“Is it morning?” she asked. “You are not typically awake this early.”

Tywin glanced at the window. “The moon is still high in the sky.”

At that, she sat up, pulling the sheet around her chest. “What has you so deep in thought?”

“The very same one that has you waking, I’m sure.”

Celia’s expression fell and she snuggled closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. “It is not fair,” she said. “Rhaella and Aerys deserve so much more than this. Than all this.”

Tywin kissed the top of her head, pressing his nose into her hair. “Perhaps next time will be different.”

“Perhaps,” Celia whispered. 

“Do you hope for another child by that time?” he asked. 

She blushed. 

Tywin could not help but smile because of that. He thought it was cute, the way her skin flushed. “Do you?”

“I would not mind another babe,” she said softly. 

He bent himself slightly to kiss her gently in the mouth. Celia shifted as he wrapped his arms around her. Their chests were pressed together as Tywin pushed them to lay on his back. 

He was fine with kissing her like this for now as he waited for her to initiate more. Tywin stroked the small of her back with his thumb and Celia sighed into his mouth, pleased. Her leg went over his hip and he could feel her already prepared for him against his cock. 

Tywin shifted them onto Celia’s back and her hands went into his hair. “Are you sure you want to?”

“Mmm,” she moaned softly. 

“Words, Celia,” he whispered just as gently. 

“Yes.”

Tywin sank into her and the tension he realized he had in his belly began to shudder a need he often had. He kissed her neck and his hands trail against her thighs and pulled them higher around his hips. 

“Tywin,” she moaned, her voice wavering with his thrusts. “Tywin!”

His breath was shuddering and her name escaped his lips as he was spurred on by her voice. Celia cried out and Tywin came with a roar. 

When they pulled apart, Celia curled into his chest and promptly fell back asleep. Tywin watched her sleep. Guilt churned in his chest, even though he knew he shouldn’t. 

—

Tywin sat with Aerys in his solar with Steffon. Arbor gold was in their hands as they drank quietly. Aerys was a little deeper into his cup than Steffon or Tywin were. However, neither could blame him. 

He had wanted that babe so badly. 

And to have been there when it happened…

Tywin could not imagine experiencing that. He could not imagine waking to Celia crying and clutching at their sheets with blood seeping into the cloth. 

He could not imagine it. 

He did not want to. He never wanted to know that. 

Aerys began to giggle. 

Tywin glanced at Steffon who was also looking at him in concern. 

“Aerys…” Steffon said slowly. “Are you okay?”

“We’re fucked,” he said. “We’re fucked. We’re fucked!”

Tywin stood and grabbed the goblet from his friend’s hand. “That’s enough—“

Aerys grabbed his hand. “I shouldn’t be king,” he said. “I shouldn’t be king! I can’t even keep my babies alive! How am I supposed to protect Westeros? How am I supposed to protect my family?”

Tears slid down his cheek and he buried his face in his hands and began to sob. Tywin set the goblet down and put his hand on Aerys’ back. 

“You are not alone,” Tywin said. “You are not doing this alone. You have us. You have me and Steffon. You have Rhaella and Celia and Lady Cassana. You have Rhaegar and Cersei. You have us, Aerys. You have us and we will not abandon you.”

Steffon stood and wrapped his cousin in his arms. 

Tywin would never forget Aerys stumbling into his chambers covered in blood. He would never forget his friend’s screams of horror and heartbreak. He would never forget the blood. 

He could not imagine. 

He never wanted to. 

—

It was an anniversary to the conquering of Westeros and there had to be a feast. It was subdued, of course for the sake of the king and queen, but the lords and ladies of the court demanded the ability to feast. 

Celia tended to her sister alongside Cassana, leaving Tywin, Steffon, and the other counselors went about and spoke to the lords and ladies so that they didn’t feel too unhappy with the lack of attention the king gave them. 

Tywin and Steffon were also asked to dance with ladies who could pass on their regard to their husbands or fathers or brothers. 

“Shall we dance, Tywin?”

He had no way to answer in the negative quickly enough before Joanna brought him out to the dancefloor. 

“Joanna,” he warned. 

“This is just a dance between cousins, Tywin,” she said. “Surely there is nothing wrong about this. Unless it means something more than just a dance between cousins?”

Tywin ground his teeth together and allowed her to lead the dance in a way. It wouldn’t do to cause a scene. Not when Aerys and Rhaella were already pulled so tightly that they could easily snap. 

And so, Tywin danced with Joanna and hated how much he enjoyed it. He hated how much he allowed himself to fall into ease with Joanna in his arms. 

“See,” Joanna said when the song ended. She set her hand on his chest and smiled. “Not difficult at all.”

—

“Do you still love her, Tywin?” Celia’s voice was soft as he entered their room, holding Cersei carefully in her arms. 

“Celia—“ He stepped towards her, but she stepped back. 

“Do you still love Lady Joanna?” she asked. “I know… I know you said you did not love me when we married, but…” She shook her head. “Never… nevermind, I am being foolish. Excuse me.” 

She turned quickly from Tywin and rushed to the nursery, leaving Tywin alone. 

Chapter Text

Once more, Celia was with child. However, now she felt her coupling with Tywin was more… more routine. It had felt almost hollow and colder than their coupling before. He felt distant. In truth, she was acting out that distance as well. She could still remember the flustered way he had danced with Joanna. The fluster that she had never seen before. 

It reminded her of how she used to be when she used to dance with Ser Barristan. Childish fancy she had learned to let go of for the sake of her daughter and the sake of their marriage. Part of her had hoped that Tywin had begun to do the same. 

But it had been foolish to think such a thing. 

Why would Tywin come to care for her in a romantic way when she looked as she did? Her scars might have healed and they were far less noticeable than what they had been, but they were still there. The mangled flesh was still there and Celia could not imagine how Tywin could possibly choose to love her when Joanna was right there. Joanna who was beautiful. Joanna who had a slightly Valyrian look to her. 

Everything that Celia was not. 

She pushed such thoughts from her mind as she knitted some things for the babe. Rhaella and Cassana were with child as well and they had made their own sewing circle outside of the other ladies of court who were not with child. 

Celia was much further along than her sister and friend and they knew she would be the one to fall into her labors first. Aerys had asked that Ser Barristan constantly follow her to make certain she did not fall and hurt herself while Ser Gerold Hightower was constantly at Rhaella’s side. Tywin had gotten after Celia’s brother about constantly sending the Kingsguard to guard people other than him, but Aerys claimed to not like being constantly followed and it wasn’t as though he were untrained with the sword and didn’t constantly have either Tywin or Steffon by his side. 

While Tywin would complain to her about it, Celia thought it was sweet. It was a sign of how much her brother cared. 

—

Aerys wandered into their chambers again, this time mid afternoon. His eyes were hollow and Tywin rushed to take care of the king and Celia made her way to her sister’s chambers to help. 

“Go away!” Rhaella screamed, throwing something towards Celia when she entered. “Go away!”

“Rhaella,” Celia said gently, taking a step forward. 

“I said go away!”

Joanna walked to her quickly. “I suggest you leave, your grace.”

“She is my sister,” Celia said. Just as Tywin was her husband. 

“And yet she doesn’t want you here,” Joanna said flatly. “Now leave.”

Rhaella continued to sob and rage and Celia had no choice but to leave as Ser Gerold escorted her out. 

—

Celia went into labor almost a week after Rhaella lost her babe. 

The labor was easier than Cersei’s birth. The maester told her that was often the case. The first babe always took the longest because they were mapping out the way for all their little siblings. 

And, to Celia’s relief, she gave birth to a son. 

A little boy and heir to House Lannister. 

Her babe was placed in her arms and she smiled. He had her hair. Dark wisps of hair that framed his rosy cheeks. 

Tywin entered the room, Cersei in his arms. 

“Mama,” Cersei, said, reaching for her. “There baby.”

Tywin chuckled and set Cersei beside Celia and their little girl gently poked her baby brother’s head. “That’s right, Cersei,” Tywin said. “That’s your new baby…”

“Brother,” Celia told him. He smiled at that and Celia’s heart squeezed tightly in her chest. It didn’t mean anything, she had to remind herself. It didn’t mean anything. “What shall we name him, Tywin? The heir to Casterly Rock and the West?”

“I have always been rather partial to the name Jaime,” he told her. 

“Jaime Lannister,” she said, looking down at her son. “Our little dark lion.”

Tywin moved to slide into the bed to have Cersei between them. “And our little light of the West.”

His arm went behind her head and his fingers played with her hair. “I think our family has grown beautifully, don’t you think?”

Celia smiled at him and then returned her gaze to her son and watched her daughter coo over her new baby brother. Celia wondered if her husband would feel any need to grow their family more. 

—

Rhaella did not come to see her once. 

Chapter Text

Tywin did not speak of his son at all to the king. He desperately wished to discuss his son with his best friend, but knew it would not be appropriate, not when he was so discontent about the loss of his own child. 

And so, Tywin was forced to remain silent. 

—

While the king and queen had relegated themselves into mourning, it was up to Tywin and Steffon and the other members of the small council to make sure the kingdom ran smoothly while the king and queen mourned the loss of their third babe. 

Celia had attempted to visit her sister, but had been sent away on her multiple attempts. 

She would cry at night and hold Jaime, guilt consuming her that her sister had once again suffered such a tremendous loss. 

—

Lady Cassana went into labor and gave birth to a second son, whom the twice-over parents named Stannis. 

He was a serious looking boy and it got a giggle out of his lady mother and Celia who would attempt to get the babe to laugh. Robert appeared to try and do the same. Cersei found the babe boring—which Tywin did not mind as she was far too young to find boys or babes of any interest. 

But the birth of another healthy child put another strain between Celia, Lady Cassana, and the queen. 

—

“How is the queen?” Tywin asked his cousin as they walked the gardens. He had not offered his arm though. He had thought it might count for something should his wife hear of this meeting. 

“She is recovering. But she finds the constant requests to see her by your wife to be exhausting.”

“The queen is her sister.”

“Who has lost a child while your wife has given you a son.” There was melancholy in her voice. 

Tywin looked away. “My father would not have allowed this either, I think,” he said. “And the late king had his reasons.”

“What do Targaryens know of the affairs of the heart?”

“There is no affair.”

Joanna glanced at him, her green eyes like spring. “Is there not?” 

And with that, she left. 

Chapter Text

Aegon was a beautiful baby boy. 

His hair was paler than Cersei’s, and he had the Targaryen nose that Rhaegar did when he was a baby. He was beautiful, everyone told her so. Even little Robert who hardly thought anything but his father’s hammer was a thing of beauty or note. 

But Celia was so very painfully aware that this would be her last child. 

An heir and a spare, and a daughter to make an alliance with. She had given her husband all that he required of her body and she had already requested to sleep separate from him. 

Tywin had not argued with her although he had been surprised at her request. He had merely asked to make certain it was what she wished and it was. 

Her husband had grown more withdrawn in his coupling and she was certain it was, in part, because he felt guilty. 

Celia had asked him almost two years ago after she had heard whispers of his walks with Lady Joanna. She had asked him if he had taken a mistress. If he had broken that vow to her. 

He assured her that such whispers were not true and that, as he had promised, his body was known and belonged to no one but her. 

But she could see the desire in his eyes that had never once been focused on her and she knew that what pleasure he felt was no doubt with thoughts of blonder hair than hers tangled between his fingers. 

“Are you sad, mama?” Cersei asked as she and Jaime looked at their new baby brother. “Cause of Papa?”

Celia smiled at her daughter and then took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Mama is only tired, my little star. Sometimes that can look like sadness.”

“Gar said Aunt Rhaella gets sad because of his papa too.”

“That is another matter,” she said gently. She would need to talk to her brother soon. Especially if Rhaegar was noticing things. The boy was seven and so desperately wished to impress his father, but with the two miscarriages, Aerys had grown distant from both Rhaella and Rhaegar and sought comfort elsewhere. 

Tywin had taken up the duties of handling those… possibilities. There was no need for another Blackfyre rebellion and there was no need for Rhaella to be hurt anymore than she had been. 

Celia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It felt as though Lady Joanna was taking everything that had once been Celia’s. Her husband. Her sister. 

There were some nights that Celia wished she had been allowed to join the Citadel and become a septa or that she had run away to become a midwife. But now she could not ever truly dwell on such far away thoughts. For such wishes meant that she would have never had her children. And such an existence as that was an impossible one to reconcile. 

And try as she might, she could not help but hope that one day Tywin might find it in his heart to love her as a husband could. 

—

The summer solstice had once been a sacred thing in Valyria. Perhaps the celebrations of old might have been more thrilling when the pyres were lit by dragonfire rather than torchlight. Perhaps there was more excitement when dragons soared above the skies and let their power be known. 

However, now it was celebrated by a feast with much dancing and the best wine and clothes that could be had. 

Celia herself wore a new dress that carefully covered her scars and was made with fabric so soft her skin was hardly irritated after wearing it. 

The children had all been sent to bed safe Rhaegar. 

Her nephew stood very proudly beside his father as they spoke to the lords who had come to the feast. Rhaegar’s silver curls were carefully arranged and he wore the same circlet Aerys had worn when they were children. 

Celia smiled at the sight of the boy. He was truly a sweet child who yearned for the love and approval of others and she knew her brother tried and she knew her sister tried. But oftentimes their pain made it hard to show him just how much they cherished him. 

Celia turned her gaze to the dancing and smiled as she saw Steffon spin Cassana around the floor. The two of them were laughing together and anyone who saw them would have to be a fool to not understand the love and care they had for one another. 

She wished that she had a marriage like that. Perhaps she would wish for a marriage like that of Aerys and Rhaella too. But she felt so woefully stuck in terms of her relationship with her husband. 

There was some genuine care. She had felt it in earnest when it came to Tywin and his worry over her and the children. However, she was so painfully aware that Tywin did not love her. His care was familial. 

And now that she had given him all the children he needed he would only continue to treat her in a familial manner. 

Not in the Targaryen way, of course, but in the Andal way. 

And something about that was so very lonely.

She glanced at Tywin who was charming the ladies of court as always, but his focus was always laid particularly on Lady Joanna. Oh, it had been long enough now that many might forget the affection they had more openly displayed. But Celia knew that look, for it was one that she longed for. 

She longed for the softness of Tywin’s gaze and features. She had only truly been graced with that in sleep and, regardless of how much he argued against the idea, she felt there was a great possibility that they shared a bed, even if it wasn’t the marriage one. 

Celia closed her eyes and excused herself from the table. She went to her sister and gave an appropriate curtsy and then went to Aerys. 

“You are not leaving already, are you?” he asked her. 

“I am not needed here,” she said. “And perhaps I might take our young prince to bed.”

Aerys frowned and glanced at Tywin. His jaw was clenched. 

“Don’t,” she said gently. “He was your friend first, long before he was my husband. Goodnight, my king.”

She kissed his cheek and took Rhaegar’s hand in his and led him back into the now quiet hall. 

—

“Aunt Celia,” Rhaegar said solemnly as she tucked him into bed. 

“Yes, my little prince?”

“Am I bad luck?”

Celia blinked and then narrowed her eyes in concern. “Why do you ask such a ridiculous question, sweet boy?”

“I heard some of the lords say I was born on a bad day. That great grandfather and some of my great uncles did die on the day of my birth and that you were hurt too.”

“You were not the cause of the fire, my love. And I surely do not blame you for my injuries.”

“But…”

“No, buts, Rhaegar,” she said softly. “I know that some like to say that Targaryens are closer to the gods than men. However, we are still very much human. We do not have such grand destinies. Our births are not aligned with any stars or prophecies. You are of no luck, my little prince. You are simply you and nothing more or less.”

“Truly?”

Celia nodded and kissed the top of his head. “Now, the sooner you sleep, the sooner your mother will wake you.”

He smiled sleepily. “I love it when Mama comes to cuddle. Sometimes Papa does too.”

Celia smiled and kissed his hair again. “Goodnight, my sweet prince.”

She left his chambers and then made her way to the Tower of the Hand and checked in on her own children. Cersei was asleep, strangling her stuffed dragon’s poor neck. Jaime was upside down on his bed with all his covers kicked off. 

Aegon was fussy and Celia made sure he was changed and then nursed him carefully. She would have to cherish these moments with her son. They would be her last chance to have this. 

She would try to be fair to her children, but she knew that Aegon would be pampered a little simply because he was the baby, just as she had been pampered as a child. The only difference was that he was a boy and he would be allowed to have his dreams. 

Once he was finished, she burped him carefully and then began to rock him until he was sleepy enough to put down in his crib. 

Her beautiful children. She would cherish them happily and prayed that their father’s love for them would grow despite the woman who did not birth them. 

Once more, Celia checked in on her children and then checked her husband’s chambers to make sure nothing needed to be prepared or arranged. She then checked his solar to make certain nothing needed to be tidied. All that she had to do was make sure things were arranged by importance and made note that the flowers needed to be replaced. But once she was finished, she slipped from her husband’s sanctuary and made herself to her own chambers. 

—

Celia stayed up a little longer to do some reading when a knock came to the door. 

“Enter,” she said and looked up when the door opened. She was surprised to find her husband there, mid-dressed, still undoing his cuffs. 

“Has Aegon been changed?”

“Yes,” she replied. “And fed. He is not as calm as Jaime was, but he is not difficult to settle.”

Tywin nodded. 

“Oh, and you should have Lord Varys listen to the whispers of the lords.”

“Oh?”

“Rhaegar has heard some call him unlucky due to the circumstances of his birth.”

Tywin’s lips pursed. “It will be handled. Hopefully before anyone closer to the king and queen hear such talk.”

Celia nodded and set her book down. Tywin approached her bed and peered down at the title. 

“That is an odd choice of nightly reading.”

“I hardly think so.”

“A History of Visenya Targaryen?”

She shrugged. 

“Are you certain you do not wish to come to bed, Celia?” 

“I’m certain.”

“Your nightmares…”

“I’m not a child, Tywin. I’ll be fine.”

Chapter Text

Tywin enjoyed doing his job, even if it sometimes called him to work late into the night. While the rest of the court was sleeping odd whatever it was they had drunk, Tywin was hard at work making sure that the Seven Kingdoms continued to prosper.

Another reason he had decided to continue his work late into the night is that he did not care for the idea of going to bed alone. 

He had grown used to his wife’s presence at night, her soft breaths tickling his skin as she slept and her body pressed up against his for warmth. 

But now she wanted to sleep separately from him now that her wifely duties were over. 

Tywin knew she did not believe him when he said there was nothing between himself and Joanna, but he had no idea how to prove to her that there was nothing without cutting out his cousin completely. 

However, his cousin was now the closest to the queen and, for Aerys’ sake, he needed to know what the queen’s thoughts were and how she was doing. 

It was a terrible balance that Tywin had to keep and he was unsure how to maintain it. He didn’t know how he could get Celia to understand. 

He heard some movement from his wife’s chambers and he thought she was, perhaps, getting up to feed Aegon, but that didn’t feel right. 

Hesitantly, Tywin stood and made his way to his wife’s door and didn’t bother to knock. 

Celia was twisting and turning in her bed, obviously having a nightmare. Without any hesitation, Tywin went to his wife and set his hand o. Her shoulder, causing her to startle awake. 

“Tywin?” she asked softly, her voice wavering against whatever drama had plagued her. 

“Go back to sleep,” he said, climbing into bed beside her and wrapping his arms around her. 

“We—“

“You are my wife, Celia, if I cannot protect your thoughts during the day, let me at least take care of them as you sleep.”

Celia’s eyes watched him carefully and he could not help but feel the way she did relax in his arms. 

Tywin watched his wife drift off to sleep and he pressed a kiss to her brow and let himself drift to sleep as well. 

—

Kevan wrote to inform him that their father had taken on a new mistress. At first, Tywin didn’t understand why his brother felt the need to inform him of their father’s latest conquest. However, as he continued to read the letter, he felt his anger begin to rise.

This woman was different. 

This woman has been given their mother’s clothes. 

Their mother’s clothes. Clothes she had made and designed. Clothes that she had promised to Genna whenTywin’s sister was older. 

Rage twisted in his stomach and it made him feel sick. 

He wrote to his father immediately and said he would say nothing about his keeping of a mistress since Tywin knew his father would not care to hear about that argument. 

However, having the woman dress in his late wife’s clothes? That was too cruel, even for him. 

—

They went on a picnic at Cersei’s insistence. How she was able to articulate exactly what she wanted from this picnic made Tywin’s chest swell with pride as he helped his daughter from the horse they shared and then helped Jaime down and then Celia, who had Aegon swaddled against her chest. 

The weather was perfect and the sky was a clear blue that made it seem like sapphires. 

“She is growing up so fast,” Celia whispered as Cersei led Jaime on a venture . 

Tywin smiled. “Is it so wrong to wish they would always stay this young?”

“Unrealistic, but true to form,” she said. “I think all parents feel this way.”

“Not all.”

Aegon began to grow a little fussy and Celia placed her hand on their son’s curls and Tywin drew closer to brush their son’s cheek with his knuckle. “They are innocent of everything when they are like this.”

“All we can do is try to protect that innocence and make a world where they won’t have to go through what we have.”

Tywin kissed the crown of his wife’s head as Cersei called for them to set up the picnic. 

Chapter Text

It had been a girl. A little princess with silvery hair and eyes that never opened. 

This was different from the attempts before for Rhaella. This child had stayed there, protected in her mother’s belly in the time the maester said was best, and still she was born with no air in her lungs and no life in her tiny body. 

Rhaella had been utterly destroyed and the keep was as silent as the child born. It was as though they were haunted by her cries, the only noise that seemed to be permitted. 

Celia could not help but hold her youngest, her Aegon, more securely in her arms. 

She had not gone to see Rhaella yet. She was not sure if she would be welcome. She was not sure if she would be turned away. 

Tywin had gone to check on Aerys, gone with Steffon to drag her brother back from whatever bottle he had managed to take from the kitchens while the rest of the keep remained frozen, feeling the melancholy and wretched pain their queen was feeling. 

Celia held onto Aegon and prayed to the Seven, although they had never listened to her before. She prayed that her sister might be able to have a living child soon. A babe. 

A babe, that was all that her sister wanted and Celia knew full well that while Rhaegar was healthy, it was never wise for a king and queen of House Targaryen to only have one child. 

History had not been kind to such families and Celia did not wish to see her siblings ruined. 

—

Once her children were in bed, Celia made her way to Rhaella’s room. 

Not even Lady Joanna was there when she entered. 

Rhaella acknowledged her presence with a look, but said nothing as Celia approached. 

As she had when they were girls, Celia climbed into her sister’s bed. However, unlike when they were children, When Celia crawled under the covers and went to her sister, it was she who wrapped Rhaella in her arms. She was the one to hold her sister to try and fight the darkness that clung to her mind in the quiet of the night. 

Chapter Text

He was awake almost immediately as soon as the door to his room was opened, but he needed to make sure how many people had entered the room. He only heard one and he did not hear any movement from the nursery. As the stranger approached the bed, Tywin shifted Celia closer to him before subtly stretching his arm out towards the hold of his sword leaning against the bed. With another step he pulled Celia behind him and lifted his sword to the throat of the intruder. 

He could hear Celia suck in a breath as she awoke to the sudden movement. 

Tywin could see who it was at the end of his sword. The man was dressed like a servant, but he wasn’t part of his or Celia’s household. Definitely not someone they had let around their children either. If it was one of Aerys’ servants, surely the king wouldn’t mind a death in the staff if this was a threat. 

Tywin sat up more properly and told Celia to get the children without taking his eyes off the stranger. 

“What do you want?”

The stranger bowed his head. “I come bearing sad news, my lord.”

“Oh? And what is that?” Rhaella surely wasn’t with child again and if there was an issue with Aerys, someone else of more prominence would have come. 

“Word has come from the West, my lord. Your father, Lord Tytos, is dead.”

At that, Tywin lowered his sword. Celia was no longer going to the nursery, instead staying by his side. “Dead?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Tywin…” Celia’s hand was on his stomach, comforting and steadying. He placed his hand over hers to keep Celia close. 

“And how did he die?”

“Your father had an issue with his heart and he fell down the stairs and died in the fall.”

“And what was my father doing climbing up such stairs unaccompanied?”

“He… Forgive me, my lord, princess, for my crudeness, he was going up the stairs to see his mistress.”

Tywin’s hold on Celia’s hand tightened. “You’ve given your missive,” he said. “Now leave.”

“Of course, my lord.” And with that, the man left. 

Tywin lowered his sword completely and then leaned it against his bed. 

He took a deep breath and brought Celia’s hand to his lips. He needed something to ground him. 

Celia pressed herself closer to him. Her free hand went to his back and she began to rub soothing circles. 

“It’s okay to be sad,” she told him. “Regardless of how you felt about him, he was your father.”

“That man hasn’t been my father in a long time. Your father was more of a father to me than he was.”

Celia pressed a kiss to his neck. 

Tywin closed his eyes. He didn’t love his father. He would even say he hated the man. And yet… and yet his heart ached just a little. 

He turned and took his wife’s face in his hands and kissed her softly. Then he pulled at her hips so she was straddling his own as they continued to kis. 

He wanted to be grounded. He didn’t want to think about his father. He didn’t want to think about the man who had hurt him. 

He didn’t want to think about the man who had never once cared for Tywin’s own happiness. 

Celia’s arms were wrapped around his neck and Tywin kept his hands on her hips. 

He just needed to hold his wife and forget. 

—

Aerys gave Tywin and his family leave so that they might handle things in the West and attend his father’s funeral. 

Steffon would serve as temporary Hand while Tywin was away. As Celia prepared their household to temporarily move, Tywin made sure the transition to Steffon would go smoothly. 

Tywin could only hope that Aerys would not do anything foolish while he was gone. 

—

Joanna would be remaining in the capital to help tend to Queen Rhaella and would not be able to join Tywin and his family to the West. 

However, that would most likely be for the best. He could learn to forget about her and focus on his family while he was away. 

It was for the best. 

It had to be. 

Joanna had come to him regardless to give her condolences. However, it was obvious that she had assumed he would be alone. That wasn’t the case though. Celia had been with him. 

His wife had always been an empathetic person and as a woman who had lost many people in rapid succession, she often set her gentle hand upon his person. 

A touch to his hair. His cheek. A brush of her lips against his temple and even his own lips. 

It was the last that Joanna had entered his solar without knocking. 

Perhaps because of that she gave her condolences again and left quickly. 

Celia’s hand tightened on his shoulder and Tywin brought it to his lips to kiss it in thanks for her comfort. 

—

Celia held onto Aegon as he helped her into the carriage. Tywin then helped his daughter, picking her up and helping her sit properly in the carriage so she wouldn’t fall off the seat when the carriage started off. 

Jaime had wanted to ride with Tywin, however he was only three and still a little too young for such a long trip. Tywin’s heir would join him on his horse once they were about to enter the gates of Casterly Rock. 

Tywin, however, would be traveling by horse for most of the journey. 

“Are all of you ready?” Tywin asked. 

Celia nodded. “Are you?”

He gave her a small smile. “I’ll come back once we break for lunch.”

“We’ll see you then,” she said. “Wave to your father, children.”

Cersei and Jaime did as their mother bid while Celia helped Aegon wave to him. 

Tywin laughed a little and waved back, even kissing the back of Cersei’s hand once more. 

Chapter Text

When they stopped to rest on the journey to Casterly Rock, Tywin would climb into the carriage to sleep with Celia and the children. Celia would hold Aegon in her arms and Cersei and Jaime would curl into their father and listen to him tell stories of his misadventures at the Rock with their uncles and aunt. In all the years Celia had known her husband, he had never spoken a single good word about Casterly Rock outside of brief mentions of his mother and his siblings, but these were stories that Celia had not heard. 

She encouraged the questions her children asked and encouraged Tywin’s answers. 

Despite his tense posture for the past few days, there was something so relaxed about him then. His brows were not creased and his lips were not constantly turned into a frown. 

She smiled and touched his chest as he pulled their family together. 

Soon enough, the children had fallen asleep, and yet Tywin kept speaking in his low voice that was heavy with sleep. Celia reached over and touched his cheek. She knew her husband was trying to remain strong and uncaring in the face of his father’s death—in the mounting responsibility of being Hand while also being Lord of Casterly Rock and Lord Paramount of the West. 

Tywin carefully took her hand in his and kissed the tips of her fingers. 

They were going to be okay.

They had to be. 

—

Casterly Rock was more beautiful than Tywin described. 

“Look, Mama!” Cersei squealed happily as she pointed repeatedly. Aegon giggled happily at his sister’s excitement. 

Jaime was riding with his father despite his age, but Tywin thought it appropriate. Jaime was his heir, after all. The future lord of the very keep they approached. 

And, right now, Celia was the lady of this element keep they were quickly approaching. 

The white stone walls and the red upon the roofs. It was beautiful. And this would be her home for the time being. 

“Look, Mama!”

“I see, my little lion,” she whispered. Her heart began to pound in her chest. This was her home. Her home. Not Aerys’, not Rhaella’s. This was her home. 

—

Tywin helped Cersei down from the carriage first and then helped Celia with Aegon. Inside the gates of the keep was just as beautiful as it had been from far away. It was breathtaking. Celia wondered if her ancestors should have asked for the Lannisters to help construct the Red Keep. It was so beautiful. Surely they could have done a better job. 

The servants and other occupants of the keep had come out to greet them. Celia had never been properly introduced to Tywin’s siblings, but she recognized the boys who must have been Tywin’s brothers immediately. His sister had already been sent to the Riverlands for her marriage. Celia hoped that her good sister might be able to come and visit. Surely it would be better than the Twins. 

Celia assumed that it would be one of Tywin’s brother or the steward who would lead the greeting.

However it was a woman who looked Celia’s age. Her brown hair was styled rather lavishly, especially in comparison to the other ladies of the keep who were very modest to honor mourning traditions. The lady was also wearing a quite revealing dress that cut low into her bosom, leaving the swell of flesh on display. It was, again, not in line with mourning traditions. 

“My lord,” the lady said with a smile, curtsying incorrectly to properly show off her assets. “Welcome to Casterly Rock.”

Celia glanced at her husband and could see how displeased he was. “I do not need to be welcomed back into my own home, much less the keep that is now mine by right. Nor do I need to be welcomed by a stranger. Kevan.”

One of the brothers, the eldest of the group approached him and bowed. 

“Did our father not leave you in charge of the keep? Was it not your right as the eldest son present to transfer the keep to my care?”

Kevan sighed. “Our father ran things rather differently than one would naturally expect.”

“Yes. I can only assume a woman of such brazen nature would be the one to ask our father, in his age, to walk up the flights of stairs to visit her.” The woman looked shocked and grew pale. “And to even wear one of our mother’s dresses, which should have been preserved for Genna’s use, not for the use of our father’s wh—“

“Tywin,” Celia said calmly. 

Her husband glanced at their children and sighed. “Lock her in her chambers until I decide what is to be done with her.”

“My lord, please, there must be some misunderstanding.” The lady attempted to hold Tywin’s arm and press herself against him. Jaime began to cry in shock at the stranger’s approach and the scent of her strong perfume that even Celia could smell. 

Tywin pushed her away from him. “Withhold her food for the day as well. I do not wish for her to be near my wife and children.”

“I shall show you to your rooms,” Kevan said. 

“And the books,” Tywin said flatly. 

Kevan sighed. “You will not be pleased.”

“Tywin, we should rest for one day to make sure the children are settled.”

Her husband looked at her and his gaze softened. He bent down and picked up Cersei as well. “As you have ordered, my wife, we shall do. You are all dismissed,” he called. “We will have a formal meeting of the household and introductions tomorrow.”

—

They set their children in the nursery to nap and Celia then attended to her husband. 

“These people have not seen you in years, Tywin,” she said. “You cannot let your anger dictate your actions.”

“I cannot believe you were tolerating her display, Celia.”

She touched her husband’s arm, the one the woman touched. “No, I know I do not look it, husband, but I am a dragon, and dragons can be very greedy.”

Tywin brought her close to him and set his lips upon her hair and breathed her in. “I do not wish for my father’s mistress to remain here.”

“I am not asking that you do. I am asking you not let your anger dictate whatever sort of punishment you think is worthy of her supposed crime.”

“There is a crime.”

“Not one that is punishable by the law as far as I can tell. You cannot punish a lady for being a mistress. You can cast her out and that is about all you can do.”

He groaned and leaned against her more heavily. “I did not wish to work so earnestly as soon as I returned to this place.”

Celia reached up and stroked his hair. Sometimes, she noticed, her husband was like a giant cat. In moments like this especially. “Let us just sleep for the night and rest.”

He nodded and led her to the lord’s chambers. Their chambers. 

She could not help but blush. 

Chapter Text

Once the children had fallen asleep completely and Celia had drifted off as well, Tywin made his way to his father’s solar to handle some of the simple paperwork—such as looking over the finances. He knew that Celia wished for him to rest, but he could not rest until he had stepped in the solar and had at least looked at what position his father had left them in. How many debts had his father incurred. 

He had no good memories in his father’s solar. Not a single one. His mother had never been allowed inside as it wasn’t a woman’s place—or so his father would always say. The very idea made Tywin laugh. His wife certainly proved that wrong. Despite her parents pulling her from her lessons, she had kept up with some forms of education that helped her with ledgers and other papers that Tywin had allowed her to see. Some he was simply not allowed to because the documents were private and for the eyes of the Small Council alone. However, Celia had never resented him for it and understood that some things could simply not be shared. 

Even so, he did not like the solar and would eventually have any reminders of his father pulled from the room and sent into storage on the off chance he did need something later. 

Tywin sat down and found the sheets to indicate the finances and began to read them. 

With each line, Tywin could not help but get more and more angry. He had set nothing aside for Tywin’s brother and the dowry he had paid for Genna was nowhere near as large as it should have been. It was a good thing that Tywin had already requested his sister’s presence at the Rock—including her husband—as Walder Frey would have no doubt viewed it as an insult despite the fact the marriage was too good for his son. Especially because the son Genna had married was not even the heir. 

What made things even worse was that his father had given his mistress a monthly allowance that would rival what Tywin set aside for his own wife and three children. He did not even seem to keep much of any indication of what she spent it on. Her dress had been his mother’s and yet she seemed to spend an exorbitant amount of money. 

He called for the steward. 

“Yes, my lord?” the older man asked. 

“There is no indication in these papers of the breakdown of the allowance my father gave his mistress.” He stood. “A steward should always know what his master has done with expenses. So, why don’t you tell me what that woman has been doing with my house’s money.” 

The steward looked uncomfortable. 

“Do not fret, I know that none of this is your doing. Even with the best advisors in all of Westeros, my father would have done his own desires. So, what was it the mistress spent her allowance on?” 

The steward coughed into his fist before he spoke. “The lady has spent much of her allowance on herself for the most part. She has bought herself many dogs and much of the allowance goes towards their upkeep. She also enjoys jewels. She has ordered many pieces from Volantis to be shipped here and, naturally since she sent word to have them ordered and did not wish to wait for them, the ships were sent out and brought back with the only cargo being the necklaces and rings.” 

“She paid the wage of an entire crew for them to go out and bring her back necklaces and rings? How many?” 

“She has done so thrice, my lord. One journey brought back three rings and one necklace, the second brought back two necklaces and five rings. The final time was for a single necklace.”

Tywin went back to the finances and searched through them again. “I can see those trips logged here in the regular finances.” 

“Yes, my lord, because she did not pay for the wages nor the upkeep of the ships.” 

Tywin’s teeth ground together. “What else did she spend her money on?” 

“She would often ask your father for money so that she might finance her family.” 

“And her family is where?” 

“Her father owned a brothel, my lord. Her mother is one of the… ladies who works there.”

“Do you mean to tell me that House Lannister has been financing a brothel? Or, perhaps, has her family stopped such work entirely?” 

“Forgive me, my lord.” 

“I can only forgive what I know. Now tell me.” 

“The lady had a new brothel built and it was made in the image of the Rock.” 

Tywin took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “And my father died climbing the stairs to go to her?” 

“Yes, my lord.” 

“And why was she allowed to be the one to lead the greeting to my family?”
“The lady insisted upon it.”

“She is not the lady of this keep,” Tywin said. “She never married my father.” 

“Even so, my lord.” 

“Did she say anything prior to the arrival of my family.” 

“She spoke disparagingly of the princess, my lord.” 

Tywin’s heart tightened in his chest. “And what did she dare say about my wife, a princess of House Targaryen and the Lady of Casterly Rock?” he demanded. 

“The lady—”

“She is no lady.”

“Even so,” the steward continued. “She stated that Princess Celia was not worthy of her place as lady of this keep and that you, my lord, would surely prefer a whole woman.” 

“Were those her exact words?”

“Yes, my lord.” 

“You may go.” 

Tywin stewed and continued to look over the finances of his house. With every page it got worse.

—

“Tywin, this is cruel,” Celia said, putting her hand on his arm. “Her punishment is so… public.” 

“I am not asking her to be stripped and flogged, Celia,” Tywin told her. “I am merely asking that she and the rest of her family and those joining them be sent off to Essos.” 

“With no money, Tywin.” 

“They have taken enough as it is. And no matter where they go, whores always find a way to make money.” 

“I will not stop you, Tywin, but know I am displeased. Your honor is not worth this.” 

Hers was, though. But, as always, he did not wish to tell her. He knew that his wife remained self conscious of her body and he would not let anyone, much less his father’s mistress look down upon her. 

—

Once everything was officially settled, Tywin did his best to comb through his house’s finances, with his brothers aiding him where they could. 

“What?” he snapped after three sleepless nights. His brother’s startled from their dozing as his wife’s maid entered. 

The woman curtised to him. “It is Lord Jaime, my lord,” the woman said. “He is ill.” 

Chapter Text

Jaime had such a high fever. His poor cheeks were flush from all color, and his neck was blotched red. She brought Jaime to her own room and kept Cersei and Aegon to the nursery. Cersei was so confused as to why Jaime was to be kept separate, but Celia could not lose all her children to such illness. Targaryens, she knew, were not impervious to the fires of the body and Lannisters definitely were not either. 

Celia had not wished to burden and worry Tywin, but when Jaime did not get better with rest, she could not keep it from him any longer and sent him word that his heir was sick. 

Tywin surprisingly did come, stroking their son’s head and whispering to their son words that Celia did not hear. They were gentle words and Celia could not help but cry as she brushed her son’s dark hair from his face. It was not fair. 

“He is so small,” she whispered as she managed to get him to rest. “He is so small.”

“But he is strong,” Tywin said softly, brushing her hair from her neck and kissing her there. “He is a Targaryen and a Lannister both. He is strong and he will survive this. All children get sick at one point or another.”

“I don’t know how other parents stand it.”

“It is the curse of parenthood, I’m afraid.”

“You do not seem worried,” she whispered. 

He pressed his brow against her temple. “Do not confuse my calmness for lack of worry. I am, but I know there is only so much that I can do. Jaime will get better. He will get better and he will be running about the keep soon enough you won’t even remember he was ill.”

Celia squeezed her husband’s wrist and nodded. She would trust him in this.

—

“My lady,” the maester said. “You should rest. It will not help the young lord if you get sick as well.”

“I cannot leave him.”

“My lady, you have not slept in three days. You must rest.”

Her eyelids were growing so heavy, but she did not wish to miss a moment of her son’s suffering. She did not wish for him to be alone.

—

Celia awoke in her husband’s bed. 

Chapter Text

Celia had fallen asleep while watching Jaime. 

The maester had said that she needed rest no matter how much she had protested. Tywin sighed gently and carefully picked his wife up into his arms and began to carry her to his own room. She needed rest and he knew that sleeping as she had been would not be good for her back and neck and he did not wish for her to get sick as well. 

Tywin had not realized how small his wife was in comparison to him. She had not been eating well recently either. “Once my wife wakes, have a warm meal prepared for her,” he told the steward as his door was opened. 

“Yes, my lord.”

Tywin carefully set his wife on his bed and covered her in the crimson sheets. He had ordered that the beds be made of the softest material. He knew it was an expense he could not truly afford, but he had written to Aerys and the king had taken it from the money initially set aside for Celia so that Tywin might have the softest sheets so as not to irritate her scars. 

Tywin brushed her hair from her face and stoked the fire ever so slightly in the hearth before leaving his room. He went to check on Cersei and Aegon first. 

His eldest and youngest were curled around each other in their sleep. 

“Neither have shown any signs of illness, my lord,” the maid said. 

“Has Cersei made any comments about Jaime.”

“She misses her brother, my lord. However, she says it is more quiet with him sleeping in another room.”

Tywin chuckled and made his way towards his wife’s room and ill son. 

Jaime was doing better from what Tywin could tell, although he was no maester. 

When Tywin was a boy, his mother would tell him stories when he was sick. He hardly remembered what stories his mother had told him and perhaps they had not been stories at all. 

“When I was a boy,” Tywin began. “Your uncle, Kevan, was convinced there was a ghost lion that lived in the keep…”

—

It was a day before Celia came to return to their son’s side. 

“Did you sleep well?”

Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly and Tywin knew she was embarrassed. “How is Jaime?”

“The maester says he is improving.”

“Might I sit by him again, I know you have much work to do.”

Tywin stood and guided his wife to sit. He bent down and kissed the top of his wife’s head. “Do not overwork yourself,” he said. “You will be of no help to Jaime if you are exhausted. I will come back for our midday meal so that I know you are eating.”

“I am not a child.”

“Then do not be so stubborn.” He kissed the top of her head again before making his way to his solar. 

The maester stopped him again to say that Jaime was continuing to improve and that he should be well again by the end of the day. 

“A letter from the Red Keep, my lord,” his steward said. 

Tywin took it and recognized the hand. 

My dearest Tywin,

It was a simple letter. There was nothing to immediately reply to. It was simply a letter telling him of the goings on of the Red Keep. 

He would answer it later. He had other things he needed to handle. 

—

“Lord Jaime has awoken, my lord,” the maester said. 

Tywin stood to be with his son, leaving the letters unanswered. 

Chapter Text

It was so strange how Celia had spent the entirety of her life inside the Red Keep and yet she had been so easily able to make another place her home. 

Tywin had allowed her free reign within the keep. While she was within the confines of a budget, there were plenty of things relegated to storage that allowed her to save a lot of gold in redecorating Casterly to her own preferences. 

Casterly. Her husband was gruff with her when she referred to the ancient seat of House Lannister that way. 

It is called the Rock, my dear. 

But Casterly sounds so beautiful. 

He did not correct her beyond that one time. No one else seemed to have been given that amount of grace, but Celia could not help but smile at that knowledge. 

She was in her twenty-second year and she found herself right at home in Casterly Rock. 

Cersei had turned six name days and Jaime four and Aegon two. 

A part of Celia wished for more children, but she was too nervous to ask her husband for such allowances. They had not shared their marriage bed for coupling in a year, but that was more because her husband was making sure the West was in working order before they had to make their return to the Red Keep. 

She missed her brother and sister. She missed her nephew. She missed her cousin and her best friend and their son. However, Celia would wish to remain in the Red Keep if she had a choice. 

Aerys needed Tywin. Celia’s husband was a good Hand and a wise man. He would do what was best for the realm and help Aerys make the decisions he needed to. 

It did not change that Celia would desperately miss the home she had spent making into her own. 

“Do we have to go with you, Tywin?” she asked as they readied for bed. “The children like it here.”

“They should see their aunt and uncle, as well as their cousin.”

“They could just as easily visit us. It isn’t the first time the court has had to travel and their family is smaller and easier to move.” It felt like such a horrible thing to say. If her sister’s children had all lived, Rhaella would have more children than Celia did. 

“They are the king and queen of Westeros. We are at the mercy of their own bidding.”

“Has Aerys summoned you? Is it not simply your time to return.”

“Aerys has made up his mind and wishes for me to come to him, yes.”

Celia slipped into their bed and pulled up the covers over her legs. “Has something happened?”

“Steffon says Aerys has a mistress, but he doesn’t know who she is.”

Celia’s heart squeezed in her chest. “A mistress?”

“It is a rumor, at least. I am to try and see if I can get it handled before Rhaella finds out.”

“It would break her heart.”

Tywin took his place in their bed beside her and drew her to his side. She took one of his hands into hers and brought it to her lips while he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It will be okay. Casterly will still stand when we are able to come and visit. The royal family simply needs us now. That is all.”

Celia nodded and snuggled to her husband’s side, wishing they could stay in Casterly Rock forever, no matter how selfish she was for wishing that. 

—

Celia gathered her children in the carriage and held Aegon in her arms as Cersei and Jaime whispered to each other, playing a game with their fingers and string. 

Tywin would join them after lunch and ride in the carriage for a bit so Celia could take a nap and he would tend to the children. She was grateful for that, but still upset that they had to return to the Red Keep. 

She missed her sister and brother and cousin and Cassana. However, there was one person in the Red Keep that she did not miss and that was Joanna. 

She knew that her husband’s cousin would be there as well. 

Celia was well aware of the extra correspondence her husband received and returned that was not from her brother or cousin or other members of the small council. She was aware of it, but said nothing. Her husband had made promises to her and Celia trusted Tywin. He would not break any promise he made to her. He would not be like his father. 

—

The Red Keep had not changed much since Celia had last been there, but Cersei and Jaime marveled at it all the same. They pointed to the red brick and made comments about the smell. 

Celia had not realized how nice Casterly had smelled until she returned. 

Tywin opened the door and helped Cersei and Jaime out of the carriage before taking Aegon from her arms and then helping Celia down from the carriage. 

Her brother had grown more thin since she had last seen him and Rhella’s cheeks seemed a little more hollow. Rhaegar was nine now and he was taller than Celia last remembered him. He reminded Celia of her brother in their youth. 

Once her family was properly arranged, they curtsied and bowed before giving their more familiar greeting. 

“Where are Cassana and Steffon?” she asked as she kissed her brother’s cheek.

“Tending to some urgent correspondence from the Stormlands,” he told her. 

“Is it dire?”

“Just two lords arguing over a lady.”

“Is the lady’s voice being taken into account?”

“It is Steffon, so most likely.”

Celia smiled and went to kiss her sister’s cheeks. 

“I half expected another niece or nephew,” Rhaella said. 

“No more for the time being,” Celia said, although she wanted more. “Your son is growing to be quite handsome.”

“He reminds me of our Uncle Duncan.”

For good or ill, Celia wondered as she kissed the top of the boy’s head. 

—

“Mama,” Cersei said. “Are we to stay here? When will we go back to the Rock?”

“Your father has work to do, I am afraid. We shall be staying here for the time being.”

Cersei pouted and Celia kissed her daughter’s hair. “But if you ever feel uncomfy in your bed, you can always come to the room your father and I share and stay with us.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t as though she and Tywin coupled anymore. There was no reason to be concerned about their children interrupting them. 

“I want to go home, Mama,” Cersei whispered. 

Celia picked her little girl up in her arms. “We will one day. I promise.”

Chapter Text

Settling back into his duties as Hand was not as hard as he thought it would be. It was true that the politics of King’s Landing had shifted ever so slightly since he had been gone, but people were ready to start deferring to him again now that he had returned. Steffon had done a good job of handling the family affairs as well. There was a lot to handle now. 

Aerys had changed. 

There was a coldness in Tywin’s friend that he had not known. There was a distance. 

Tywin had tried asking Steffon about it, but his friend had merely whispered softly that the miscarriages and stillbirths were taking a toll on him. 

Tywin wanted to talk to Aerys and tell him that he understood, but even Celia did not wish to talk about the babe they had lost—too early to know if it had been a boy or a girl. His wife refused to talk about it and merely wished to try again, but Tywin didn’t dare try again until he was certain she was well enough to carry that pain again in her heart. Until she was ready to talk about it. 

And since Celia did not wish to talk about it with him, he could only hope that she perhaps would talk with Rhaella or Cassana about it. Until then, he would not bring up his wife’s sorrow’s to his good brother. If she didn’t wish to share those feelings with her husband, then he wasn’t going to share it with her brother unless she told him herself. 

His stomach churned at the memory. The smell of blood—just like a battlefield—that had sent Tywin spiraling, forcing his way into the birthing chamber to fall on his knees and take his wife’s hand in his as she had cried out for her mother. He remembered the blood on his hands as he tried to help the maester by pulling up her shift. He remembered the metallic smell of blood as he kissed his wife’s hand and tried to promise over and over that everything would be alright. 

The babe had not been fully formed and there had been nothing to truly bury. However, Tywin had made a place for the babe in the crypt beside his mother. Just as Celia tended to him, he hoped that his mother might look after her grandchild who had never known the cruelties of the world. 

Tywin was not a praying man. But that night, he had prayed. Not to any gods, but to his mother, and prayed that she might hear him. 

He knew that was partly why his wife wished to return to Casterly Rock, so that she might visit their babe. However, the maester had insisted that it would be best if Celia was not so near the crypt. It would allow her heart to heal more than she was allowing it to, the old man had said. She tore the wound open whenever she came to see the child she never held in her arms. 

Being with her nephew and with little Robert and Steffon seemed to be helping, from what Tywin could see and he felt some relief that the pleasant look in his wife’s gaze was returning. Tywin hoped that her peace would continue to grow. 

He did not pray anymore, but perhaps for his wife, he would.  

—

“Has he taken a mistress?” 

Steffon froze, not looking at him. “Who?” 

“Aerys,” Tywin clarified. “Is that why he is so… distracted?” 

Steffon’s lips formed a firm line. “I do not know for certain if he has one or not.” 

“How could you not know? Have you gone to Storm’s End for extended periods of time?”

“It is nothing like that,” Steffon assured him. “It is just that… Well… Aerys has been pulling away from all of us recently. As I said, I think the death of little Princess Celia hit both the king and queen very hard.” 

Tywin’s lips formed a thin line as well. It was that news that had upset Celia so that they had lost the babe. His wife had been in so much despair over her niece that it had caused the blood to come. Perhaps it was seeing her name in ink linked to death, or perhaps the utter despair of the wording from her brother and sister. Tywin didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. 

“How has the queen been? Have she and Cassana made any sort of… friendship?” 

Steffon sighed. “I have tried to speak to Cassana about it, but my wife is as bullheaded as my mother.” 

Tywin chuckled. “There is nothing wrong with that. Your mother was a formidable woman.” Despite her never quite liking him. Tywin never understood why the princess had never seemed to care for him. He supposed he would never find out. 

“Your wife should at least be cordial.” 

“Cassana tells me that ladies make alliances differently. Men think within the now and ladies think thirty years in the future.” 

Tywin snorted. “She can do whatever she thinks is best. While I do not share a bed with your wife, I do not wish to be on the other end of her cold shoulder.” 

“Gods forbid. I once made the mistake of questioning her cravings when she was pregnant with Stannis. The Stranger was my very shadow for a week, I am sure.” 

Tywin laughed at that. “Then we shall not force our wives to play our game.” 

“Have you ever tried that with Celia? I have no memory of you doing so.” 

“I would like to think I have kept Celia far away from that game. 

“Just because they don’t play the game we do, doesn’t mean they don’t play.” Steffon gave him an earnest look. “Celia is the sister of the king and queen. Everyone is looking to her for things. Especially… Especially with the lack of children from the queen.” 

Tywin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Prince Rhaegar is a sweet boy, but he has no interest in politics based on what I have heard the maester say about his lessons. He is not ill, but he is so sheltered away that some think he is. For all intent and purpose, after Rhaegar, Celia is the heir to her brother and sister. Your children are heirs. Three healthy pregnancies while the queen only had one. I would be wary, Tywin. People have ears. Even if you try to keep Celia from this game of thrones, there are people who will try to get her to play.” 

—

He had not run into Joanna until that moment. 

She was dressed in red and gold, a scooping neckline to show a necklace of rubies. Tywin could not deny the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw her. When he saw her smile. But that feeling was… He did not think it was love. In truth, Tywin wasn’t sure he knew what love was. At least, he didn’t know what love meant when it came to a man loving a woman. 

The feelings of warmth he had with Joanna were from before. Before his father had died. Before he had the blood of two houses on his hands. Before he had gone to war. Before the smell of fire had filled his lungs and the weight of his wife’s body had been carried from that all consuming fire. 

It was a longing to return to all that—to before his mother was dead. 

“It is good to see you, Tywin,” Joanna said, coming to him, wrapping her hands around his arm and squeezing. “You have been so long from court, I thought you had forgotten about all of us.” 

“I can hardly forget my family, Lady Joanna,” he said. “It is good to see you.” 

There was something in her eyes that he could not read and it unnerved him. He could always read her. At least he used to. “And how is your family? I think I saw your daughter running about with little Robert and the prince.”

“They are doing well. Celia is happy to be with her siblings and in the keep she grew up. Although, her home is Casterly now.” 

“Casterly?” Joanna asked. “Not the Rock?” 

“My wife thinks it sounds more romantic.” He could not deny that it did. The Rock sounded like a dungeon where affection was never freely given. However, the home that Celia had created… It was a home their children found constant laughter and smiles. Even as a boy, he was not sure he had ever heard so much laughter in his childhood home. Celia made the ancient keep feel warm.

“I shall give her that, it does sound romantic.” She smiled at him, but it still felt wrong to him. “Do you have time for us to take a stroll in the gardens?” 

“I am afraid I would be late for a prior appointment,” he lied. “If you will excuse me, Lady Joanna, I must be on my way.” 

—

He made his way to his wife’s chambers, ready to suggest they might take the children on a picnic in her grandmother’s garden, but instead found his wife being assisted by a maid. The maid had an ointment in her hand and was applying it to his wife’s scars. 

When he entered, the maid curtsied to him. 

“Forgive me, my lord,” his wife said. “I had not thought you would be here.” 

“What ointment is this? It does not smell familiar.” 

“The Grand Maester discovered the recipe for it. It comes from Valyria. I thought I might try.” 

Tywin nodded and dismissed the maid. He took the ointment from her and began to apply it himself.

“You do not have to, Tywin,” Celia said softly. Her cheeks were flushed. 

“You are my wife, Celia,” he said gently. “It is duty, and something I wish to do. I wish to do this for you for I wish to take care of you. Is it relieving the pain?” He knew his wife rarely spoke of it, but she was in pain quite often from her scars.

“I think the mint helps,” she said softly.
“I smell lavender as well,” he added. 

“Yes, I believe that is one of the ingredients.” 

Tywin turned his wife around so he might apply some to the front of her neck and then her cheek. He could see the shame in her eyes. “Has Cersei ever made comments about your looks?” he asked. 

Celia looked at him in shock. “My lord?” 

“Has Cersei ever commented on your looks?” His wife’s mouth hung open, but she did not answer. “Has Jaime? Aegon?” 

“N… No, Tywin. They have not. But they have not known—”

“If I had lost an arm during the rebellion, or in the Stepstones,” he said. “If I had lost an eyes, would you have cared?” 

“I… No, my lord.” 

“Would our children?”

“No.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because I am your wife and they are your children, they know nothing—”

Tywin pressed his brow against his wife’s. “Do not feel shame for the things you have endured. You might have been born a dragon, but you are a lion now. We are a prideful bunch, do not care about the thoughts of others, only of those that love you. Your brother and sister do not care. Your nephew doesn’t care. Your cousin and his family do not care. Your children do not care. I do not care. Know that none of us care about your scars other than the fact that they cause you pain. None of us wish to see you in pain.” 

Tears began to slide down his wife’s cheeks. “You have not…” 

“It is not because of the scars,” he said softly. “It is because I do not wish to see you in pain again, after our last.” 

Chapter Text

“It is because I do not wish to see you in pain again, after our last.” 

Her heart tumbled in her chest at Tywin’s words. His gentle words. His green eyes were soft, his gaze as it always was in these moments of privacy, where they were alone and no one else in the whole world seemed to matter but her. She thought of the terror in her husband’s eyes when they had lost the babe. The utter devastation when the maester had said he might have to pick, to choose which of them should be given a chance. 

He had picked her. He had picked her. She did not know if it had been in her pain-addled mind or if she had heard him speak harshly to the master over the question. 

I would rather never to have any more children than see her suffer again. Save her. Save her and I might forgive you for asking me such a question. 

He had held her hand and kissed it. Held her hand and whispered to her of all the grand hopes he had for their children. 

And once she had healed and the babe buried, he had not spoken of it again until she told him the maester said she was well enough to be bedded again. His eyes had been earnest then too when he had kissed her brow and merely held her in his arms as he slept, never taking his husbandly rights.

“It…” she tried to find the words for his earnestness. Words that would not sound childish, but she could not help it. “It hurts to think you will not touch me. It is the one thing I have besides our children that Lady Joanna does not.” 

Celia thought she could see her husband’s heart breaking at her words, and her heart felt so small and delicate as she confessed to things she dared never to say. After all, she knew well his words from their wedding night. He had said he would never love her and he had said that he would always have Joanna in his heart. 

“You have many things she does not. Chiefly amongst them is me.” 

She blushed.
“The maester says I am ready.” 

“Is your heart?” he asked. 

She could not answer that. 

“I have seen how these things have affected your brother and sister. I do not wish for it to be like that between us.” He stroked her hair and pulled her gently into his arms to hold. “Until you no longer cry in your sleep, we need not try again. I am content with the children you have blessed me with.” 

“Coupling does not always mean there will be a child,” she told him. 

“And if I tell you I am not ready?” 

“Are not men always ready?” 

He laughed at that. “Not when we worry over the health of our wives.” 

“Then we shall wait,” she said.
“And we shall wait.” 

—

Celia sat in her sister’s rooms with Rhaella and Cassana. Their children were playing together, although Jaime and Steffon were merely observing, taking the roles of princesses in the tower since he was not old enough to properly rough house. Aegon was in Celia’s arms, fast asleep. 

“It is good to see the children getting along,” Cassana said. Celia was glad that her friend and the rest of the Baratheons had returned to the Red Keep. Everything felt so infinitely familiar now that they had returned. “I do not think Stannis could put up with Robert one more minute. He dislikes how much Robert likes to run about. He is perfectly content with looking at books and daydreaming.” 

“Jaime is much the same way, although when he is Cersei’s age, Tywin wishes to give him a practice sword.”

“It is good that Rhaegar seems to be more outgoing now that he is playing with all his cousins,” Rhaella said. “I know Aerys worries that he might be too scholarly like our father.” 

“There is nothing wrong with being scholarly,” Celia said. 

“Aerys thinks there is.” 

Celia’s lips formed a thin line. “Should I talk to him for you?” she asked. “I know there is not much I can say, but perhaps hearing it from someone else could help. Or perhaps Tywin might say something?”

“If you think Aerys would listen, I do not see why not.” 

Celia bowed her head. “I will try my best.” 

—

Celia had picked Jaime up from his lessons so that he might sit with his father in the small council meeting. It had been Tywin’s idea since Rhaegar was already helping as a cupbearer for his father and Robert sat beside his father as well. Celia had thought it a good idea as well and so she pulled their son from his lesson and was on her way to the small council room. 

It was then that she saw Lady Joanna. 

She was just as beautiful as Celia remembered. Just as perfect. Everything that Celia was not. 

“This must be the heir to Casterly Rock,” the lady said. 

“It is,” Celia said stiffly. 

Lady Joanna smiled like a content cat. “It is so peculiar how much he looks like you.” 

“He is my son, it would be odd if he looked nothing like me.” 

“And nothing like Tywin.” 

Celia held her son more tightly. “You must not know my husband very well,” she said. “They are alike in many ways.” She felt some bravery in her chest. “Especially when they sleep.” 

The way the lady’s jaw clenched made Celia aware that she had struck a nerve. 

“If you will excuse me, I need to head to the small council room.” She did not bow her head in farewell, and instead made her way to Tywin, some pride thundering in her chest.

Chapter Text

Tywin didn’t know what stick Aerys had shoved up his ass, but it needed to go. No matter how many solutions or concepts Tywin came up with to help the court run a little more smoothly, Aerys refused to implement them. Tywin had no idea what it was that made Aerys get so confrontational, but it was getting old rather quickly. 

“It will not work, Tywin,” Aerys said. 

“You will find, your grace, that it will.” 

“Perhaps we can separate and think longer on the issue,” Steffon suggested, obviously tired of the both of them.

Tywin grimaced, not wanting to back down, but knowing that arguing like this would help no one. It would go nowhere. “Please, Aerys, just tell me what issue it is you have with me, because I feel that this is personal and not something about my abilities as your Hand. Please, tell me now so we can accomplish something.” 

“Tywin,” Steffon warned. 

“No, let him talk,” Aerys snapped. “I’m sure you have plenty of ideas on how to run my kingdom, why not run my house as well.” 

“What in the Seven Hells does that mean?” Tywin demanded. 

“Aerys, please, let’s take a break for the day,” Steffon said, standing, trying to get between the two. 

“I mean the dangers you are putting my wife and son through!” 

“What dangers, Aerys? You know full well that I am loyal to you. Not only are you my king, but you are my good brother. I swear that I would never do anything that could put the queen or crown prince in danger.” 

“Prove it.” 

Tywin blinked. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Prove it.” 

“Aerys, not now.” 

“Betroth your daughter to my son and have her fostered under Rhaella’s care.” 

Tywin froze. His mind went completely blank. 

“Cersei will marry my son and she will be raised under Rhaella’s care until she is old enough for the children to marry.” 

Tywin’s jaw clenched. “I will not talk to you like this and if I do not hear you retract this idea, I will take my wife and children and you shall be without a Hand.”

He turned on his heels and stormed off, his heart pounding in his chest. He walked blindly through the Red Keep, his mind racing. Surely Aerys was joking and had said those things in frustration. Surely he did not think to betroth Cersei to Rhaegar. The boy was decent, but in no way worthy of Tywin’s daughter. Cersei was witty and had a head for politics that reminded Tywin of Celia’s youth. Rhaella would suck that from her in an instant as she had never been interested in learning in the way Celia constantly encouraged their children. 

“Is something wrong?” 

He looked up and realized he had entered the nursery where his wife and children were residing. 

Celia looked at him with such earnest concern that he felt all the tension leave his body. He went to his daughter and Jaime, sitting amongst them. Jaime crawled into his lap, perfectly pleased to be there while Cersei seemed to take a moment to think about the best approach to this new situation. After a moment of thought, she went to her toys and grabbed a necklace made of glass rubies and draped it around his neck and then gave him one of her dolls, perhaps granting him the role of whatever game he had interrupted. 

Celia carefully sat beside him, Aegon in her arms. “Is everything alright?” 

“It is now,” he said. “Your brother and I had an argument and I needed a moment to breathe.” 

“My husband, losing an argument with my brother? What is the world coming to?” 

His lips twitched slightly, but did not answer. He closed his eyes and soaked in the sounds of his family. He wouldn’t bother Celia with what had happened. There was no point in worrying her about things that would not come to pass. 

Chapter Text

Rhaella was once more with child and Celia could not help but feel relief because of it. Her sister seemed to be the most happy when she was with child. The pregnancy seemed to be going well. The maester was optimistic and the ladies of court would coo over Rhaella and discuss the possibility of a young princess that could marry Rhaegar. 

Celia couldn’t help but feel some relief as well.

There were some who felt Cersei and Rhaegar should be betrothed, but that was not what Celia wanted. 

She understood the logic behind it. Celia was the sister to the king and queen. Her husband was Hand and the king’s closest confidant. It would only be natural that a reward was extended to House Lannister and a Lannister queen, who had the blood of the dragon, would sit beside Rhaegar when the time came for him to be queen. 

It would be a reward for all the service Tywin had done for the kingdom. 

Celia’s greatest fear was that he would accept that proposal, have their daughter live in the royal apartments and be taught under Rhaella. 

Celia loved her sister dearly, but Rhaella could care less about education. Cersei had such a bright and inquisitive mind and it reminded Celia of herself. She did not wish for her daughter’s mind to be stifled as her own had. 

So, when Celia went to the sept, she prayed for a healthy princess. A little princess to marry the crown prince so that her daughter might be free. 

She loved her husband dearly, but she hoped that her daughter might be free to one day make her own path, despite how illogical that hope was. 

—

“It’s not fair,” Jaime said with tears in his eyes as he looked down at his book. “Rhaegar and Cersei never have any trouble. Even Robert is better than me and he’s an idiot!” 

Celia sat beside her son and brushed his dark hair from his face. She knew her son did not mean the last bit. He was just angry and frustrated. He was the heir to Casterly Rock and, more importantly, Tywin’s heir. Her son felt so much pressure and Celia wished she could relieve it, but there was only so much she could do. 

The letters swam before his eyes, at least that was how he seemed to describe it. She recalled her Uncle Duncan had similar issues. She recalled the frustration and wondered if that was why he had not felt guilty over not being her grandfather’s heir. 

“It will take you longer,” Celia said. “But with practice, perhaps you shall read even better than the others. But you have to remember that Rhaegar is five years older than you, and Cersei and Robert are two.” She continued to stroke his hair, occasionally lowering her hand to brush the traitorous tears away. 

“I want to be smart,” Jaime said. “I want to make Father proud.” 

“Oh, my little lion. He is proud. Your father is so very proud. He even told me yesterday how proud he was of you. He said you were doing so very well with your sword practice. He even says you are better than Rhaegar was at your age.” 

“But Rhaegar doesn’t even like it. He just likes his harp,” Jaime pouted. “And if Cersei were allowed a sword, she would be better than me too.” 

“Your sister would be dangerous with a sword,” Celia said, trying to make her son laugh. “Not necessarily better.” 

That got a reluctant smile from him. 

“Jaime, you need not compare yourself to other people. You are you. You are not Rhaegar, or Cersei, or Robert, or your father, or even me. You will learn how to navigate the world in your own way.” 

“They say I am slow.” 

Celia’s eyes widened and she got up from her chair to kneel down to look up at her son. “Who said you were slow?” 

Her son shook his head. 

“Jaime, you must tell me. I cannot protect you if you do not tell me.” 

“No, because they said mean things too.” 

“Saying you are slow is a mean thing,” she said. “And it is my job as your mother to protect you.” 

“They said mean things about you too, Mother,” Cersei said, having seemingly entered only a moment ago. 

Celia looked to her daughter. “What?” 

“They said—” Cersei began. 

“No,” Jaime said angrily. 

“They said the ruined princess would obviously make a ruined heir.” The words seemed to pain her daughter to the point of tears well and truly sliding down her cheeks. “You are not ruined.” 

Celia’s breath caught into her throat and she extended her arm to Cersei, who ran into her and wrapped her arms around Celia’s shoulders. Celia then pulled her son into the embrace. “It is not your duty to protect me,” she said. “That is your father’s job and he does so very well in doing it. It is my duty to protect you. You forget, little ones, that I am a dragon. I am a dragon and my words are fire and blood. I do not care what others think of me.” She did. She truly did, but she also remembered Tywin’s words. The gentle way he held her face and kissed her ruined skin. “Do not ever let anyone make you feel less than. You are the blood of dragons and lions. You are the descendants of kings on both sides. You are the blood of Old Valyria and the Age of Heroes. We do not care what mere men think. Do you understand me?” 

Cersei nodded into Celia’s hair and Jaime rubbed his tear stained cheeks against her chest. Celia held them close. 

“It will be okay,” she promised. “It will all be okay.” 

—

Celia walked in her mother’s garden with her brother, Ser Barristan trailing behind them. She had not had any moments with Aerys as of late. There had seemed to be some quarrel between her brother and husband going on for two years now, but neither of them would tell her anything. Even Steffon had sworn himself out of it and Cassana was just as clueless as Celia was. 

“Brother, I can recognize the creases in your brow,” Celia said, brushing her fingers along his temple. “You look very much like our grandfather when you are like this.” 

“I wish I were like Grandfather,” he said. “I wish my reign was as secure as his was.” 

“Your reign is secure,” she assured him. “The Seven Kingdoms are flourishing and our finances are stable. House Targaryen is strong. The maesters are positive about Rhaella’s pregnacy and everyone thinks she is carrying a girl. A little princess. Steffon and Cassana have two sons, one for Storm’s End and one that can be used to connect our house with other kingdoms. I gave my husband an heir and another to spare and I have a daughter who shall be of help to your daughter once she is born. Your reign is secure.”

“I sometimes wonder,” he said. He sounded so small in that moment, like the older brother who used to let her sneak into his bed during the great stormy seasons. The brother who pretended he wasn’t just as frightened as she was. “I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had been allowed to marry later.” 

“You would not have Rhaegar,” Celia said. “He is such a sweet boy, Aerys. I’m sure he’ll be a great—” 

“I wonder what would have happened if I had been allowed to marry you.” 

Celia froze, Aerys only taking one step beyond her before turning back to look at her. “You do not mean that.” 

“I do.” 

“You do not.” 

“You have given Tywin three healthy children,” he said. “Three children. Rhaella can barely give me one. Who is to say this pregnancy will not be any different? Why is it that you have not lost any of his children?” 

She pulled her hand from his arm, setting it on her belly. 

Aerys scoffed. “Of course you are with child again .” 

“I am not,” she said firmly. “Aerys, you cannot talk like this. I will not hear of it.” 

“And if I command you to—” 

“Finish that sentence, Aerys Targaryen, and I will make certain you will never have my friendship again.’ 

Aerys met her gaze for a long while before turning his head away. “I’m sorry.” 

Celia clenched her jaw. “Aerys, do you have a mistress?” 

Heat burned his cheeks. “That is none of your concern.” 

“It is when it is our sister you could hurt because of it.” 

“It is none of her concern. I am not like your husband.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Please, everyone knows that you have a string tied around your husband’s cock.” 

Now it was her turn to have burning cheeks. “My husband is a good man.” 

“And if he were not so guilty about your appearance he would be fucking—” 

“I would suggest you end that sentence now, your grace.” Tywin’s voice came from ahead of them. It was so dangerously low that even Celia was a little frightened. Her husband held out his hand. “Come, Celia, Aegon is calling for you.” 

She did not have to be told twice and quickly took her husband’s hand. 

“Celia—” 

“I will forgive you this once, Aerys. I know you are frustrated and I know you are worried about Rhaella. For her sake I will pretend this conversation did not happen. I expect you to forget this conversation too, Ser Barristan.” 

The knight bowed his head. “Of course, princess.” 

Tywin pulled her close to his side, tucking her hand into his arm before escorting her from the garden.

—

“Are you alright?” Her husband asked, not taking her to Aegon directly. 

“Yes,” she lied, although it was obvious her husband did not believe her. She wanted him to think of something else besides her brother’s words. “The children have heard people talking about my scars,” she said instead and instantly wishing she hadn’t. 

Tywin stilled. His eyes turned predatory and she knew that someone might very well find themselves and their house in a downward spiral. 

“Tywin—”

“Who?” 

“They did not say.” 

“Then we will ask them.” 

“They will not remember. Tywin, they did not even wish to tell me.” 

“They had no right to speak in front of our children—” 

“I doubted they knew they were there. Rarely do adults notice children are listening.” 

Tywin cupped her scarred cheek in his hand. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” she said. “I am just sad that our children had to hear it. The context was someone speaking about Jaime’s intelligence.” 

“Our son is—” 

“Brilliant,” she finished for him. “I know. I know. But he is a child and your heir and he is under so much pressure because he does not look like a Targaryen or a Lannister. He looks like me. He looks like a Blackwood. It is only natural that he feels out of place.” 

“I will talk to him.” 

“Thank you,” Celia said. “I know it will mean the world to him.” 

He kissed the tip of her nose and pressed his forehead against hers. “Are you okay?” 

“I am,” she said. “I swear.” 

Chapter Text

Tywin was absolutely furious. If he ever found out who it was that made comments about his wife’s appearance and his heir, the person would find their house in ruins. He would not stand idly by as both his wife and son were insulted. 

In truth it was because he was worried about Jaime. 

Tywin’s son was brilliant. He had a mind that could absorb everything he heard and he could parrot it back quite well, which was why Tywin was sure his heir knew who it was that made the comments. It was just that he had trouble reading. Already the words, he said, swirled before him and he could not make any sense of them at times. Celia worked tirelessly with him and helped him memorize all the information that the maester was discussing, but there was only so much she could do. It was not as though they could work with the maester with their son’s needs because Rhaegar was the maester’s top priority and Robert was at the level he needed to be. The maester refused to slow his lessons for one student. 

But Tywin knew his son’s brilliance, which was why Jaime not wishing to share who spoke of him and his mother was concerning. 

Now Tywin wondered if it was Rhaella or Aerys who had said it. He would have never thought the king and queen would be someone to say such things, but after hearing Aerys in the garden and the way Aerys wished to betroth Cersei to Rhaegar, not for her intelligence or good nature, but as a way to supposedly keep Tywin and the rest of his side of the family in line… he was not sure. 

Where on earth was the brother who had threatened Tywin into casting his feelings for Lady Joanna aside so that he might be a good husband to Celia? That man seemed gone now and replaced with an untrusting king. 

Tywin glanced up as he continued to walk to meet his heir, having noticed a fluttering of skirt. 

Lady Joanna was approaching him with a smile on her lips. He nodded his head to her and quickly walked past, ignoring her attempt at conversation.

He would not have talked to her anyway, but his son was more important. 

When Tywin reached his son, it was obvious that he was aware of what Tywin had heard. Jaime’s lip trembled, the action a painful reminder of Celia in her youth, when she was still innocent and could not understand why someone could be cruel. 

Tywin went to his son and took him up into his arms and held him as Jaime wrapped his arms around Tywin’s neck and began to cry. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Tywin held him tighter. “You have nothing to apologize for. You have done no wrong. Do not apologize for the cruelty of others.” 

Jaime held him tightly and Tywin stroked his hair, gently rocking his son as he had when the boy was a babe. 

—

Everyone was frustrated at the small council meeting. None of them wished to be there, but they all needed to work on the tax laws and exemptions for that year and all of them needed to get Aerys invested in his work as well. It wasn’t that Aerys couldn’t do it—the man was brilliant when it came to numbers—he was just bored. 

A king’s boredom was perhaps the most dangerous thing a kingdom could endure. 

Laughter came from outside the open window. 

“Close it, Tywin,” Aerys said, waving his hand. “Or shout down that my sister should take the children elsewhere.” 

Tywin nodded. He went to the window and glanced down. She was doing exercises with Aegon, helping his young legs rush about with his brother and sister. While they were a distance away, Tywin could see his wife’s radiant smile from there. Her laughter was infectious to the point that Tywin smiled himself as he closed the window to block out her voice. 

He returned to his seat as Lucerys Velaryon huffed in annoyance. 

“Do you have an issue, Lord Velaryon?” Steffon asked. 

“You would think that Lady Lannister would have better things to do than play around in the garden.” 

“ Princess Celia,” Tywin corrected. “Is playing with our children. Children need exercise as they grow.” 

“She should be more concerned about your son’s mind rather than his ability to run around and play.” 

Aerys sighed and let his head hit the back of his chair. 

“My son is plenty intelligent, Lord Velaryon,” Tywin said. “More brilliant than your son who thinks seahorses were once the size of the Black Dread.” 

That got Aerys and a few of the other council members to chuckle. 

Lord Velaryon blushed. “If not worrying for your son, then she should worry about herself. The sun already ruins the face of common ladies, I can’t imagine how poorly it makes her already damaged looks.” 

“Seven Hells,” Steffon muttered as he stood to grab Tywin, but it was already too late as Lord Velayron was sitting beside Tywin, and thus quicker to get to. 

Tywin did not go for the punch first, but instead the other man’s throat, knocking him down so he would not speak anymore before feeling a crunch beneath his knuckles. 

“You can’t do this every bloody time, Tywin!” Steffon shouted as Aerys began to cackle with glee. 

“Knock his teeth out!” the king cheered. 

Tywin was kneed in the groin and the wind was knocked onto his lungs as he fell onto his back. Lord Velaryon tried to drag himself up and away, but Tywin grabbed hold of his foot to drag him back before being kicked in the face. 

The two men were brought to blows a few more times before Steffon was able to pull Tywin off and Ser Barristan, his lips turned up in a smile, was able to drag away Lord Velaryon. 

Aerys was still laughing. 

“Talk about my wife again and they’ll make a song about your house too!” he spat, struggling against Steffon’s hold. He was getting annoyed at how big Steffon had gotten over the years. It used to take both Steffon and Aerys to pull Tywin out of a fight. 

“I think we’ve accomplished all that we can today,” Aerys said, standing. “Steffon, take Tywin to the maester, Lord Velaryon, see the assistant.” He was breathless from his laughter. 

There would be no point in continuing the meeting now. 

—

“Tywin, you are scaring the children.” 

“I am eating.” 

“With a black eye.” 

“I told you, Celia, I fell.” 

“I highly doubt that.” 

Tywin felt like a child being scolded, even if Celia was not being explicit in her word choice. “I am fine.” 

“That is not why the children are concerned.” 

He sighed. “Children, why don’t you finish eating while I talk to your mother.” 

Aegon could care less about his words, but Cersei and Jaime nodded. 

Tywin stood and Celia did as well. He guided his wife to a corner of the room where they could speak without disrupting their children. “Celia—”

“Who did you hit this time?” 

Tywin’s cheeks burned. “I did not—” 

“I grew up with Aerys and Steffon, same as you, I know when black eyes come from accidents and when they come from fists or heels.” 

“Steffon told you, didn’t he?” 

“And he had every right to.” 

“I should have told him to keep his mouth shut.” 

“And he would have ignored you. What were you thinking, Tywin?” 

“You should have heard—” 

“I am well aware of what Lucerys Velaryon said. Steffon did not leave that out.” 

“Then you should understand—” 

“It was not his comments on Jaime that turned you to violence.” 

“Are you saying that I should not defend your honor?” 

“My honor is not tarnished because men make comments on my appearance.” 

“Has someone—” 

Celia set her hand on his chest to silence him. “I do not inspire fear, Tywin. People will comment. It is not so strange a thing that there are those who make comments about me. I only care when it is around my children.” 

“They should not speak of you in that way regardless.”
“I am glad that you wish to defend my honor, Tywin, but disrupting a small council meeting is not something I wish for you to do.” 

“Celia—” 

“Tywin.” 

They stood there in silence for a long time. 

Tywin sighed and pressed his brow against Celia’s. “I’m sorry.” 

She kissed his cheek. “I do not wish for our children to think they must resort to violence due to insults.” 

“I suppose Cersei would be a menace if she thought so.” 

“She is your daughter, after all,” Celia said with a smile. 

“And she is yours in all the best ways.” 

His wife blushed and he gave her a swift kiss before they returned to finish their meal with their children. 

Chapter Text

“Have you thought of trying again?” Celia asked, looking at Tywin as he dressed for the morning. She normally would be the one to dress him, but Celia had a slight fever and would remain abed. She had been out in the sun far too long the previous day and she had been asked to rest. 

“Trying what again?” He was being purposefully obtuse and Celia commended him for it for his words might have fooled other people—made them think he didn’t care about what was being said, but she knew better than that. 

“A child.” 

He froze. “Celia, you are unwell.” 

“The maester says the parts that matter are perfectly functional and healed.” 

Tywin sat on their bed and did not look at her. “I do not…” He paused and Celia could see him collecting his own thoughts by the way he breathed and the straightening of his back. He was debating if he should address her wishes as himself, her husband, or Lord Lannister. She watched his countenance and saw he decided on himself. The Tywin she had grown up with. He turned to look at her, his green eyes soft. “Just one more year. One more year and I will agree for another child. I…” He sighed. “I still smell the blood, Celia. I know what it is like to have blood on my hands—the blood of women and children asked to pay for the follies of the men they put their faith in. I do not want your blood on my hands ever again.” 

Celia pushed herself up and shifted to lean her temple on his shoulder. “Tywin, I wish for you to be honest.” 

“I am brutally honest. It is my reputation.” 

“You are never brutally honest with yourself,” she said. “Which is why you are almost always Lord Lannister rather than my husband or my friend, especially in this keep. Be honest in your answer.” 

“I promise.” 

“Do you wish for another child and you are simply being kind by indulging my wish and putting it off until I no longer wish for another child.” 

He looked at her surprised that she would ask this question. “I do not mind either way,” he said and she could tell he was honest in that. “I simply worry for your health. The queen’s health—” 

“Is from having Rhaegar too young and from having many pregnancies one right after the other.” She pulled away from him. “I will wait another year and then ask again for another babe. I want our family to be big, Tywin. I want to fill our home with the laughter of children. And part of me wishes for another girl.” 

“I am powerful, Celia, but I cannot decide the gender of a babe.” 

She smiled. “I know that, but I can still say it is my wish.” 

He chuckled and kissed her soundly. “It is my duty to answer your wishes then.” 

She kissed him softly. “I will not die, Tywin. I am stronger than you think.” 

“I do not think I could ever survive without you.” 

There was a broken honesty in his voice that made Celia’s heart flutter and she kissed him just as softly as he had her. “You never shall.” 

—

Rhaella went into labor and despite the activity of the babe felt not even a week prior, the babe was stillborn. 

The silence of the Red Keep was deafening. 

—

Rhaella refused to see anyone. The maester and midwives were the only ones allowed in the room simply because they were necessary. None of her ladies or family were allowed to enter. With some time, however, after the blood was cleaned, Rhaegar was allowed to visit his mother and curl into her arms and sleep there as a comfort to her. 

Celia went to her brother and found him in his solar, smelling of wine and dark circles under his eyes. He looked so frail and it reminded Celia of when he had first become king. She knelt at her brother’s feet and looked up at him. “Aerys,” she said gently. “You should not drink. It is not good for you and you deserve to have your own thoughts clear without the use of any drink.” 

“It is not fair,” her brother said, tears sliding down his cheeks. “It is not fair. Why must we lose so many babes? Why are the gods punishing us? What have Rhaella and I ever done to deserve this?” 

Celia took her brother’s hand in hers and squeezed it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She understood this feeling. She understood it from her own experiences, but also watching her husband, the way he had been so very lost. “I am so sorry, Aerys. This is the cruelest of things anyone can endure.” 

“Edure?” he asked, pulling his hand away. “What do you know of enduring? Why is it that only Rhaella and I must endure?” 

“Aerys…” 

He stood. “Rhaella is just as loyal as you! She must be, but why are all our children—”

“Loyalty has nothing to do with it,” Celia said standing. “It is a tragedy, but you cannot think—” 

“It must be her, for it cannot be me! I have only done what every king before me has!” 

“Aerys—” 

“Our father did and so did grandfather! No matter how in love they claimed they were with—” 

“Stop it!” 

“You didn’t know them like I did! They never showed you who they were! I was the boy and I was raised to know!” 

“This is the drink talking, Aerys, you need to rest.” 

“It has to be her fault! It can’t be mine! It can’t be mine because all of us lived, our parents and their siblings lived!” 

“Aerys—” 

“It must be her because you are still faithful to Tywin despite his affair with Joanna and all your children live!” 

A crack shuddered through Celia’s chest and she saw the absolute horror that marred her brother’s features after he registered what he had said and took in her own expression. 

“I… I didn’t mean it, Celia.” He was on his knees before her, grasping at her skirt. “I didn’t mean it. It… It isn’t… I… I mean to say I saw…”

She pulled away from him and he scrabbled up. “It is the alcohol,” she said flatly. 

“I thought you knew—” 

Celia turned on her heels. 

“Celia, wait! Sister, wait! Please! I did not mean it! I only mean—” 

She slammed the door behind her, startling the guard. “Have a cold bath readied for my brother and drag him to the small council meeting if you must, he needs to get his mind off of the tragedy before us.” 

“Princess…” He paused. “Do you need—” 

“I need nothing.”

“Shall I have Lord Tywin come to you?” the knight asked, giving her a kerchief and Celia realized she was crying. 

“No,” she answered, dabbing at her cheeks. “No. Do not call for my husband. If anyone asks where I am going to the Sept of Baelor.” 

“Is that where you are going?” 

“That is none of your concern.” 

In truth, she did not know where she was going to go as she rushed off. All she knew is she did not wish to be anywhere near her brother or her husband. Not in that moment. 

If she saw either one of them, she would say something she would regret.

Chapter Text

“You cannot be serious, Aerys,” Steffon said flatly. “Do you know what this will make Rhaella look like? Make you look like? The two of you need to stand together and appear united. Aerys, it is important.”

“I cannot do this anymore, Steffon. I cannot pretend that she and I are… this was a political match and nothing more. We married only because of the Targaryen tradition.”

“People will talk if you have Rhaella’s chambers moved away from you,” Tywin said. “Aerys, please, talk to us. Explain to us exactly what the issue is so that we might help you. We cannot help you if we do not know what is going on.”

“I do not think Rhaella and I will try for other children,” Aerys replied. “I cannot handle another stillbirth or dead babe and I do not think Rhaella can either. I will not be like Viserys the First.”

“Just because you will not try for another babe doesn’t mean you have to send her from the proximity of your chambers,” Tywin said. 

Something was off about his king and good brother. He had sensed it in Celia as well and he wondered if perhaps the birth had been more traumatic than he had been led to believe. Perhaps the maester had even advised the king and queen to not try again. 

But that did not wholly explain why his wife seemed so withdrawn from her brother.

“Has something happened?” Steffon asked, seemingly the only one able to ask in that moment.

“I am just tired of it all. I want a break.” Aerys let himself fall into his chair. “I also want Rhaegar and Cersei to be betrothed. They would marry when they were adults, of course, but I wish for there to be a betrothal contract.”

“I have told you time and time again,” Tywin said. “Celia and I do not want Cersei to be queen. If she wants it one day when she’s older and can form her own opinions, that is another matter. Besides, keeping Rhaegar open to marriage proposals will help garner support of men whose daughters are of an age with the crown prince.”

“It has to—“

“It doesn’t have to,” Tywin said flatly. “My daughter is brilliant and I will not have her stifled by the crown as her mother was.”

“None of this is helping the topic at hand, which is Rhaella,” Steffon stepped between them. “You cannot have her confined to Margot’s Holdfast and have two septa’s stay with her.”

“People will think you believe her disloyal to your wedding bed,” Tywin added. 

“It is so she isn’t alone,” Aerys said firmly. “She needs constant care.”

“Then have her ladies stay with her,” Tywin urged. “Have her sister and good cousin stay with her. Aerys, this could ruin her in the eyes of the people.”

He scoffed. “The people like her better than me. I’ll be the one to blame for all this, not her. Never her.”

He would not listen. 

“Aerys?” Tywin asked. 

“What?”

“Has something happened between you and both your sisters?” 

Shame seemed to flood Aerys’ expression. 

Within the week, Rhaella was moved to Margor’s Holdfast as the court began to whisper why. 

—

“So I am to be confined?” Rhaella asked quietly, holding Prince Rhaegar to her. 

“It’s not confinement, you are free to walk around the Red Keep as you always have,” Tywin tried to assure her. “You are still queen and you are still the mother of the crown prince. Where you sleep is the only thing that has changed.”

“And who shares my bed.”

“I am sure septas are better at conversation than Aerys is.”

That got a light laugh from the queen and Tywin could not help but wonder how happy she might have been married to someone else. How happy Aerys might have been as well. Their parents had found happiness under the Targaryen banner and had expected their children to. Perhaps if he had been older, he could have helped Aerys run away to marry someone else. Run away as the late king had, as the Old King and the Good Queen had. 

“Why is it that men are the ones unfaithful and it is the women that are punished?” Rhaella asked quietly. “Why do you think?”

“Because the gods are cruel and men are vain creatures.”

The queen hummed. “Is my husband having an affair?”

Tywin glanced at the crown prince and did not think they should be having this conversation in front of the boy. “He has no bastards,” he said instead of answering her question. 

Rhaella had tears in her eyes that she blinked away. “You should go to your lessons,” she urged her son and sent him off. The boy kissed his mother’s cheek in farewell and bowed his head slightly to Tywin. “I think my husband has a mistress in this castle.”

“If he does, he hasn't told me.”

“Surely you could find out.”

“As your good brother or as your subject?”

“My good brother.”

“Rhaella, Aerys is…” he sighed. “I do not even know anymore. I know it is unfair of me to say this, but the loss of the children is painful for him as well. Perhaps he will bring you back to his bed in time, but for now you both need to rest and focus on your duties as the king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“How is it that you and Celia have been able to have so many children?”

“Three is hardly…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Perhaps it is because the first pregnancy did not end so traumatically. Perhaps it is because Lannisters are stubborn.” He thought of Celia covered in blood, her skin pale and gaze distant. “I cannot tell you why. But you will have more children one day if that is what you desire. But perhaps allow your body more of a chance to heal. I am sure the maester has said such things as well. Focus on Rhaegar too. He can tell, I am sure, how much you and the king wish for more children, but do not forget to assure him that he is wanted and loved and can be enough if he is all the gods will give you.”

—

A knock came to his solar door. 

“Enter,” he called. As the door opened, he saw his wife and stood. “Are we not still having our mid-day meal together?”

“Yes, I merely wished to discuss something with you before, so it is not in front of the children.”

He went to her quickly, almost tripping over his feet as he went to her, glancing over her. “Are you alright? Is something wrong?” He brushed some stray hairs from her cheek. “What is it, Celia?”

“I want to go home,” she said gently. “I want to return to Casterly Rock.”

“Celia, I am your brother’s Hand. I cannot simply—“

“I know.” Her expression was pained. “But I want to go home. I want our children to grow up at Casterly. I want them to be by the fresh air and the beauty of the West. I do not want them here surrounded by the vipers of court.”

“I…” He wetted his lips, trying to think of what to say. “Perhaps Steffon can be Hand then—or perhaps Aerys would understand the need for us to return to the West—or perhaps the court could be at Casterly for a little while—“

“I cannot ask the court to move on my account and I cannot ask for you to leave your duties. My brother’s reign is better for it with you as his Hand. My lord, I ask that you allow me to take the children back to Casterly Rock by myself.”

Tywin froze. “Has something happened, Celia?”

“I simply wish to go home without taking you away from your duties.”

“But you would take me away from the children—or rather them away from me.”

“Celia, tell me what’s happened. Has Aerys—“

“I wish to go home.”

“Is this because I will not give you a babe. Celia, I told you why—“

“I don’t want another babe, my lord. That isn’t what this is about.”

Tywin paused. “Say my name, Celia. Say my name and tell me what is wrong.”

She did not look him in the eye. “Please, my lord. If you have any care for me or our children at all, please let us return to Casterly Rock.”

His body felt numb. His fingers as he grasped onto her sleeves felt numb. 

“Is that what you want?”

She nodded. 

He bent his head and pressed his brow against Celia’s. “Then I will allow it.”

—

After the children were placed in the carriage and made comfortable and Tywin and given them all a tender goodbye until he would be given time to visit them, he stood outside the carriage door with his wife. 

“Celia, please tell me what has happened.”

Her expression was pained as she pressed her lips against his. Chaste and bittersweet. “Do not be like your father,” she whispered. “Please.”

And with that, without any help, she stepped into the carriage and the door was closed behind her. 

Chapter Text

It had been almost a year since she had left King’s Landing and Celia had never felt more at peace. Her children were thriving in Casterly Rock, filling the halls with needed laughter and happy memories. Her good brother, Kevan, spoke of how different she and the children were already changing Casterly from the Rock he had grown up in. 

“Tywin would never say it, but the gold of Lannister felt tarnished when our father was lord. It felt like a bloody sept here at times, and a brothel the others.” Kevan shook his head. “Have you heard word from Tywin?”

“He writes often. Almost weekly, I think. Gods forbid there be a war with news needing to come swiftly because Tywin is using all the swiftest ravens.”

Kevan smiled at that. “You know that is a sign he cares for you.”

“Have you been getting ravens too?”

“Slower, but enough to know he worries. He writes to make sure you and the children have everything you need and that the maester continues to check on you.”

“We are not having anymore children,” Celia said bitterly. “There is no need for him to worry about my health in that way.”

It was childish to feel upset over such things, but she felt this was and she would not suppress it. She wasn’t at court. She didn’t have to. 

“He’s your husband, he’s going to worry.”

“And while Lady Joanna is there?”

Kevan sighed. “Joanna is our cousin and Tywin feels responsible for her. Besides, she encourages his crueler streak.”

“Tywin is not cruel.”

“Tell that to the Reynes.”

Celia looked away. 

Kevan sighed again. “I am not saying this to defend my brother, Princess,” he said. “My brother loves you in the way he knows how to. Tywin is not the sort of person to show his emotions. He views them as a weakness that could be used against him. But he loves you. I can see it in the way he looks at you. Looks at you when you don’t notice.”

“He is being kind.”

“I don’t know what Tywin you grew up with, but Tywin is not kind. If he is showing you kindness, that is his way of showing love.” 

—

Cersei had begun that awkward stage of every girl’s life. She had begun to show signs of womanhood. Her corsets needed to be adjusted ever so slightly to account for her chest. Celia and the septa had to sit her down and discuss hygiene more seriously. Soon she would get her moonblood, and Celia began to teach her daughter how to wrap the cloth so that she would not be caught unawares whenever it did start. 

It did not stop her from all her lessons of course. Cersei read everything she could get her hands on. Even some of the old ledgers of her father’s. She would use those to practice her math as well as her reading. She was coming into her own and truly becoming the center of the other little girls in Casterly Rock. She had amassed a group of friends and served as their little leader in the way Rhaella had when she and Celia were children. 

Jaime had lost his second tooth and was rather proud to show it to anyone who would listen. He still had issues with his reading, however they had found a special maester, sent by Tywin, who specialized in the difficulties Jaime dealt with. His reading was getting better, but it was still slower than other boys his age. However, his sword master thought he would be able to begin live steel soon. With Celia’s permission of course. 

Aegon was also growing up well. However, unlike his older siblings, he never asked after his father or attempted to communicate with him 

In that, Celia did feel guilty.