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Chapter Text

The first time Tywin Lannister met his betrothed was the just beyond the Lion's Mouth, she had stepped out of a silver carriage, the same the color of her hair, swathed in a crimson gown with dragons dancing at the hem. Her eyes were not the lilac of her sister, Rhaella, but a dark purple, the color of royalty.

"Presenting: her grace, the Princess Rhaella of the house Targaryen of Dragonstone, and her grace, the Princess Diana of the house Targaryen of King's Landing."
The crown princess had wed her elder brother, Aerys the year before, Tywin frowned remembering the lavish gifts his father, Tytos, had given to the couple for their wedding. The royal family had no need of golden saddles too gaudy to ever actually use, not to mention the twenty thousand dragons the Lannister's had shelled out to travel with such a large retinue from Casterly Rock to King's Landing, stopping at every inn along the way.

The wedding seemed more of a funeral, the prince was charming, but flattered easily, which made him easy for Tywin to befriend when he was but a squire. While Prince Aerys seemed pleased with his bride, Princess Rhaella seemed anything but, a fact well known to the ever gossiping mouths of Westeros. Despite the king in waiting marrying his sister out of carnal affection, it was clear their children’s marriage was no love match.

Diana Targaryen was a maid of sixteen, two years younger than himself, but she came to his chin only, he noticed. Both princesses had small tiaras in their hair, with shining red rubies, Rhaella's had a slightly larger center stone. As the Lannister household bowed before the royals who had arrived as representatives of the royal family for his sister's name day feast, Tywin stared down the younger sister.

Rumor had it that Diana was the favorite grandchild of King Aegon the fifth, mainly because she was rumored to have dragon dreams as they were called, the same that her ancestor Daenys the Dreamer had. This favoritism made Diana and Aerys rivals, so the decision had been made that it was time for Diana to be wed, and her father had sent her to the tourney to choose a husband out of the nobles, preferably a great lord or an heir of one. Many ravens had already been sent from various high lords, who all suddenly had directed ravens to house Lannister as well, suddenly willing to travel for weeks to attend the tourney.

"Your majesties." Tywin said politely, bowing once more for good measure. "On behalf of house Lannister, I welcome you and offer you the hospitality of Casterly Rock."

"Thank you, Lord Lannister." Rhaella offered in reply, demure and ever proper. "We are weary from our travels, but are happy to celebrate your sister's twelfth name day."

"Where is your father?" Diana asked, scrutinizing gaze unyielding. "He is the Lord of house Lannister, is he not?" She had a look about her, an air of superiority he wished to quash beneath his polished boot.

Tywin wished to snarl in outrage, but refrained due to the fact that he was addressing a princess, not a cheeky servant. "He would have been here to meet you, your highness, but is in talks with Lord Frey of the Crossings." Talks of trade, he assumed, although it was also well known that Frey would give his daughter’s weight in gold to have her married off, which made him a fool to think that the richest house in Westeros would take heed of such an offer.
A frown marred her regal features, but she said nothing. "If you would follow me, princesses." Tywin stated, "I can show you to your rooms." The maids had been making up rooms overlooking the Sunset sea for the past week, the finer rooms saved for the more important guests.
Once the princesses were settled in their rooms, Tywin walked through the Rock and into the inner hallways, where the lord's chambers and those of his family were. His rooms were next to Kevan's, followed by Tygett and Gerion, who were still in the nursery, with Gemma's sharing a wall with his parent's, whose door was directly across from his.

The welcoming feast was set to begin in a few hours, with the lord of the Stormlands, the Prince of Dorne, half of the Westerlands and a few minor lords and hedge knights from various kingdoms hoping to curry favor all in attendance, within the next day or two, all the eligible lords of Westeros would grace his halls, drink his wine and eat his food, at no cost to them of course. He made quick work of changing into finer clothing, befitting the heir of the Westerlands. His father had been slowly giving more and more lordship responsibilities to him, using the excuse of practice for Tywin to allow his father to whore and gamble.
He had just finished adjusting his scarlet tunic with a roaring lion on the breast when a knock resounded, "Enter." He stated plainly, walking towards the table with wine upon it. His black pants tucked into fresh leather boots, which he had yet to completely break in. To his surprise, a handmaiden he did not recognise entered, followed by Princess Diana.

"Your grace," He said formally, bowing just enough to be respectful, "What can I do for you?" He had left her not two hours ago and it was far from proper for an unmarried maiden to be in a man’s private quarters.

"I went to see your father, but his page made it clear that he was not to be disturbed in the south tower, and that you were acting lord, should anyone need anything, you have full authority. Is that true?" Diana asked plainly, smirking in amusement when the rage flashed in his eyes, she clearly enjoyed getting a rise out of him. Tywin knew what his father did in the south tower, or rather with whom. The whore who wore his mother's jewels resided there, drinking casks of Arbour Gold with his father, had he even met with Lord Frey first? It appeared as though Diana knew as well.

"That is correct." Twin ground out, "How can I help you, your highness?" His brows furrowed as her handmaiden silently handed him a sealed scroll, the three headed dragon seal unbroken.

He read the letter once, twice, thrice. The King had written to his father, seeking a betrothal of his heir with the princess. There were several stipulations included, written in a more feminine scrawl embedded as well, a lady of house Lannister would become her handmaiden, a woman the princess would choose during her stay, a lower tax rate would be given between the crownlands and the westerlands for the first five years of Diana's marriage, and her dowry would include enough grain to get them through the winter that was fast approaching.

The letter ended with a simple note that should the offer not be accepted, Diana was welcome to present the same terms to another suitor of her choice, a veiled threat should he refuse. "You knew of this?" Tywin asked, frowning when he saw her barely concealed smirk.

"I selected you, the servants whisper of how the little lord holds more power than the laughing lion." Diana laughed when he saw the rage dancing in his eyes, it made him even more enraged that he enjoyed the sound. "Tywin, you are shrewd, something your father is not. He will wed his children to the first person to ask to curry favor, imagine if a tourney winner asked for your sister's hand? What would your father do then?"

Tywin wished to say that his father would kill any man beneath his sister who asked for her hand, but he knew that he was not his father, it would be him drawing the sword. "What do you mean, you selected me?" Was all Tywin would respond with.

"My father had only one request of who I would wed, that I select from his list of suitors." Diana replied honestly, "Should you not accept, I shall see if my cousin Steffon can break his betrothal with the Estermont girl to make me Lady of Storm's End instead."

They stared at each other for a moment, a princess and a Lord, the handmaiden seeming to vanish into the tapestries. "Why me? Why not Prince Mors Martell, or Steffon Baratheon?" Both men were already at the Rock, the Prince there with his elder sister, Rhaella's handmaiden if he remembered correctly.
Tywin had a few ideas as to why the princess chose him as a potential betrothed, but wished to hear it from her own mouth. A betrothal was usually brokered between a suitor and the bride’s family, or the fathers handled the affair, she was rather blunt in her approach. Should a rumor spread that she was in Tywin’s chambers, unaccompanied by her usual swornshield, she would be ruined, princess or not.

"You are a death away from being the second most powerful man in the seven kingdoms. Prince Mors is not the heir, Princess Elia is. And I think Steffon actually loves that Cassana girl." She replied matter-of-factly, "My brother bears no sisterly love for myself or Rhaella, and proven so time and time again, he speaks as if he wished to be the next Aegon the Conqueror or Maegor the Cruel. Rhaella is mindful of her duty though, I know an heir will be produced soon enough. So I must do my duty as well, wed and have heirs."

Her tone when describing her own blood was cold and sharp as steel. Both kings had taken two wives, and were none too gentle with them either.
"And what would gain by being Lady of Casterly Rock? I am to be the Lord." Tywin knew that his father did not have to die in order for his wife to become Lady, Gemma had been trying to take on the role in the past few years, but was still too young.

"You will be the Lord." Diana repeated, "I am a Princess of the Iron throne, a feat bought with fire and blood, yet we have destroyed both. My Grandfather agrees that the practice of marrying brother to sister must come to an end, but allowed my father to marry my siblings after he wed his own sister, breaking a few betrothals along the way."

Her purple eyes flashed, it was no secret that house Tully still held contempt for the throne after their bride was stolen. "In an attempt to make up for the betrayal of beliefs, he has given me the right to choose my husband, while my father insists he be of noble birth. If I am to share my bed with anyone who is not a dragon, it might as well be a lion."

She was blunt, but her logic was sound, and a Targaryen had not wed into house Lannister or vice versa in generations, it would also show the crown's favor to the lions. "I shall have my Maester draft up the betrothal contract, we shall announce it the first night of the tourney.

AN:
Thanks for reading! This is my first ASOIAF fic, I aged up the plot line a bit. For those curious as to why, the event at Gemma's seventh name day in canon will be used in the next chapter.
Aerys is 18, Rhaella is 17, and Diana is 16. They were conceived in rapid order due to Jaehaerys II wishing to have ample heirs after the Blackfyre Rebellion decimated his extended family. A dragon alone in the world is a terrible thing.

Chapter Text

"Princess Diana, you are Queen Visenya come again!" Tytos Lannister spoke as if he had met her ancestor. She smiled politely and thanked him demurely, her sister's words from earlier in the forefront of her mind, 'You are a princess, Di. Remember your duty.'

Remember your duty, was she not doing her duty by binding herself to the most powerful house outside of their own? Rhaella had been wed for almost three moons, yet still she remained barren. Her father seemed as if he regretted wedding his only son to his elder daughter, but was ever mindful of the prophecy of the woods witch.

How can the prince that was promised come from a line that had yet to yield a child? If Aerys had no trueborn children, her son would inherit the throne. But Aerys would set Rhaella aside, and call it duty, before he ever gave her the satisfaction of rising above him in rank, even if his death were to cause it. The siblings had never gotten along, primarily due to the favor she held in her grandfather’s eyes over the soon to be Prince of Dragonstone.

"I thank you, my lord. You have been a most generous host, and I am happy to be celebrating more than just Lady Gemma's name day." Diana replied, repressing a smirk at his confused expression. It was the middle of the feast, and she had been waiting for the ever late Lord Walder Frey hobble in, the last of the lords to arrive. There could be no room for doubt or rumor.

Tytos took a deep swig from his glass of wine, the third one by her count in just as many courses, she noticed he emptied his plates as well as his glasses. Before he had a chance to question her further, Tywin stood, his steely gaze sweeping over the hall until it was silent. Diana had to admit, for a man of barely eighteen, Tywin had a presence that commanded attention and respect. Diana grinned to herself, he was to be her Lord husband, and was about to tell half the realm, within a fortnight, every mouth of Westeros would be speaking of the lion’s bride.

"My lords and ladies, tonight we not only celebrate my sweet sister, Gemma's name day and the tourney in her honor to follow, tonight we celebrate the unification of two great houses." Whispers erupted like wildfire, but another sweep of his gaze and they were silent once more. Tytos was staring bewildered at his heir, "The Princess Diana has accepted my offer for her hand in marriage. The Targaryen princess shall be the next Lady of the Rock."

Diana was staring in mock affection at Tywin, ensuring the court's enthusiasm at the news. She enjoyed the way he played his games, as if it were he to court her, to propose a union of thier great houses. From the corner of her gaze, she watched Tytos speaking furiously with his son, Tywin's face was blank, but his father seemed about to burst with excitement, but was scolding his son for not telling him sooner, when had they been exchanging ravens, when had he won the heart of the most prized hand in the seven kingdoms?

"You were in the tower, Father." Tywin said levelly. The lord of Lannister had his whore sitting at a lower table, with minor Westerland lords who kissed her rings to get good merits with their liege lord. Diana frowned at that, making a mental note that it would need to be handled, especially at the sight of jewels worn by Tywin’s late mother, soon to be her jewels.
"What a wonderful day for betrothals, Lord Lan

nister." Walder Frey spoke, his rickety form surrounded by a few of his brood, his first and second sons included. "Perhaps in honor of Lady Gemma's name day, she and my son Emmon would make a wonderful match."

Diana watched her betrothed bristle visibly next to her, his rage palpable. "I'm so sorry, my lord." Diana replied softly, "But Lady Gemma shall be entering my service, and betrothed to a Lord or heir of my choosing, not a second son. She is a bride of the Rock after all, and my future good sister." Her voice held a simper to it, but there were those around them stifling laughter at the slight the princess directed towards the Lord of the Twins, his son was not worthy of her family, even by marriage.

Tywin was staring at her, shock clearly visible before being quickly concealed, the terms of their engagement were vague and after her previous comment, Tywin understood why. Diana had planned to take Gemma into her good graces, another piece added to the board.

Gemma, from further down the table, looked as if she were about to cry. "Thank you, your grace!" She said, and quickly added, "I would be happy to enter your service, as my cousin Johanna is in your sister's." Diana faked a smile then, Johanna Lannister was a nice enough woman, but she had caught her brother's eye. If Rhaella was not with child soon, he may proctor a mistress, and the lioness would not do well in the bed of a dragon the way her cousin would soon.

"You put the stipulation of a handmaiden in your betrothal contract." Tywin accused, "And spoke of a hedge knight or second son asking for my sister's hand." His green eyes glinted into her purple, he was onto her.

Good. He was not a complete fool then, Diana decided. "The Master of Whispers may have bent my ear when heard of my upcoming betrothal." Lord Frey had been hauling his ever growing group of eligible descendants across Westeros, and Emmon had already been bragging about his Lannister bride-to-be to those around him, usually when deep in his cups at a house of ill repute.

"When shall the wedding be?" Gemma questioned, she was seated between her father and brother, in a seat of honor since it was her name day. "Will the king be there?"

"In six moon turns." Diana estimated, "We'll need to prepare, send out announcements and invitations. And most likely, my Lord grandfather has spoken of wishing to see Casterly Rock."

Across the table, Rhaella watched her sister interact with her soon to be family. "It shall be lovely, I am sure." Her smile was tight, fists gripping her gown under the table.

Chapter Text

Tywin never understood the necessity for participating in a tourney, he was the heir to Casterly Rock, not a hedge night or third born son, especially now that his sister’s marriage prospects were temporarily secured. So he sat in the main stands, watching his father drink himself into an early grave, his whore upon his lap, growing ever bolder with every year his mother remains in the dirt.

His brother, Gerion, was only sixteen, but was happy to joust in the name of house Lannister. He had made it into the final tilts, beating the heirs of Westerling and a few Freys hoping to earn a bag of coin. Yet now he was to go against Gregor Clegane, the son of the man who had saved his father from a lioness when he was but a babe in the cradle. Tytos had given the man some land for his son and his son's son, Gregor junior, who had just been born a few moon turns ago. Clegane's keep was but a days' ride away, and Lord Gregor wished to earn favor of his lord the way his father had before him. Shame the only lioness around was dear Gemma.

"Clegane is as much a dog as the sigil of his house." Steffon Baratheon commented, as a cousin of the princesses and a lord paramount himself, he was allowed to sit in the main box with house Lannister. "I'd bet a few hundred dragons on the beast."

"Two hundred dragons on my future good brother." Diana spoke demurely, as if it were every day a princess participated in bets. "Gerion is young, but as feisty as his sigil. Two turns, no more, and Gerion will be the victor." It was oddly specific, and Princess Rhaella seemed to pale at her sister's words.

Was there a plot afoot, a rigged tourney? Tywin watched his betrothed and future good sister whisper softly to each other, attempting to glean the words being spoken. Perhaps it was her keen intuition that allowed the rumors of dragon dreams to manifest about the princess.

"Begin!" Tytos shouted, raising his wine glass as if to wave the combatants along, when he was merely asking for another glass of Arbour gold brought by the Redwynes as a gift for the tourney, they made a small fortune on the Laughing Lion’s drinking habits.

Gerion and Gregor lowered their lances in sync as the horses trotted forward, the wooden blocks slamming into each other's shoulders, enough to bruise the skin and splinter the wood, yet both riders remained a horse. Fresh lances were presented, and Tytos shouted yet another, "Begin!"

The riders rushed forward, and Gregor Clegane went flying from his horse, biting into dust and dirt. Proclaimed the victor, Gerion unseated himself from his own horse and went to help his defeated opponent to his feet. The crowd roared at the act of chivalry.

"It seems you have a keen eye, my princess." Steffon lamented, "I shall bring you your dragons to the feast tonight." Diana only grinned, her purple eyes a light, earning another frown from her sister and more suspicion from her betrothed.

A squire brought forth a crown of red roses with golden thread interwoven into it, and rode up to the Lannister box. Gemma was as red as her crown as she was presented the title of Queen of Love and Beauty. "Your majesty." Gerion spoke with a flourished bow, grinning at his sister, who had never received the title before but was no doubt over the moon at being presented with it.

With the Queen of Love and Beauty crowned, and the victors rewarded, everyone slowly made their way back into the castle from the tourney grounds, for Gemma's name day feast. Diana never understood why one needed to extend name day celebrations for so long, when Aerys turned sixteen, and officially reached the age of adulthood, the celebrations had lasted an entire week! While the coffers may be full, why bother with such a waste? Hopefully his betrothed would not believe herself to be able to spend as she pleased, princess or no. His father had ravished the coffers enough as it was.

Tywin escorted his betrothed on his arm, ever mindful of the rumor mill that was spewing forth with so many nobles in one place, Diana seemed at ease though, having grown up in court. "My lord, I have been thinking." Diana began, "If we were to hold the wedding in Summerhall in ten moons time, my grandfather was already planning a grand feast there. So the costs could be split between the royal family and yours."

Tywin felt the corners of his mouth rise, "How frugal of you, my lady." Did she wish to ensure her family was there, or the whole kingdom? Not many nobles would travel all the way to Summerhall for a feast, but a wedding they would, especially with given nearly a year to prepare. "But no bride of the Rock has ever been wed outside of the great sept overlooking the Sunset sea. The view at sunset is quite striking, I've been told."

"Have you never visited your own sept?" Diana quipped, amusement dancing in features as they maneuvered through the halls of Casterly Rock. Tywin was sure that she had waited for him to escort her not just to keep up appearances, but also due to the fact that a servant had to fetch the lost princess, who was twenty minutes late to breaking her fast because she had gotten lost attempting to find the great hall.

Though her face never showed it, it was clear to Tywin she was mortified at the fact that the next Lady of the keep could not maneuver her way through it without help.
"I do not keep with the Seven as much as I should, but I have visited the sept before on formal occasions. At sunset, however, was something Gemma remarked." His sister was a more faithful believer than him, no matter if she only prayed because her septa brought her to the sept once a day, more if she misbehaved. His sister often complained of how the virtues of the maiden was all her septa ever talked about, that and even stitching.

"I'm sure it will be lovely." Diana offered, "Lannisport is known for its fine colored glass, the sept is decorated with it, correct?" Tywin smiled at that, the glass was actually imported from Lys, but Lannisport was the only dock in all of Westeros to ship something so delicate. It had been Tywin's idea.

"Yes, my lady." Tywin replied, "A great storm destroyed the previous glass, and one wall is mainly just that, so when it was replaced, we opted to use colored glass."
"Diana." She said, "My name is Diana, although everyone seems to think it's your highness, but you are to be my Lord husband after all." Her silvery hair was down today, with little crystals glinting in the light, her fingers played with a strand absent mindedly. The princess seemed to be bashful one moment and overtly confident the next. It was as if she were a mummer who was not sure of the character she was meant to play.

There was Princess Diana, who put lesser lords in their place and held her head high and then there was just Diana, the maid of sixteen unsure of what part she was meant to portray and then there was the girl standing before the stranger she would marry, clearly smitten with him either way.

"Diana." Tywin tasted her name on his tongue, the last Targaryen with that name had been Dyanna Dayne, who had wed to King Maekar, yet died before she ever became queen. Yet Tywin had discovered that she was given the Andal spelling of the name, rather than the Valyrian, a choice stirring quite a few whispers at court, or so he had been told. As a second daughter, it was known she would not likely marry the next king, so many proposed it meant she was meant to wed into an Andal household, which she now was.

"Are you going to be leaving with your sister to return to King's Landing at the end of the next night?" As his betrothed, it would not be scandalous if she were to stay until the wedding, but she could also wish to see her family once more before her wedding.

"I shall stay." Diana replied, "My siblings need time together, and your sister has offered to help me learn to be the Lady of house Lannister." And not get lost attempting to fulfill the role, Tywin thought with a smirk. Tywin had heard of Aerys's wishes for an heir, his old friend had spoken of it in his letters, yet had failed to mention that his sister would become Tywin's bride. In previous letters speaking about his sisters, it was often just the clear difference of who warmed his bed and who wounded his pride.

"I assume your family is pleased with your betrothal?" Tywin asked, watching her face closely as she thought over her words.

"My grandfather shall be pleased, I've no doubts. A lion is the only one who can match the ferocity of a dragon, he said, except perhaps a wolf." Amusement danced on her features, her Valyrian beauty shining through. "But Rickard Stark is a bit too...wild for my tastes."
The south's view of the barbaric north were well known, and no Targaryen had ever been a Queen of Winter or a Lady of Winterfell, fire melts ice. Tywin could not imagine Diana, draped in Stark gray furs, standing at the heart of the cold north, her eyelashes covered in ice. She looked much better in red, he decided, before dismissing the thought.

"I do not believe the cold would suit you, my lady." Tywin responded, warily noting that the great hall was quickly approaching, and his father's page was searching, presumably for him. Jon Tarbeck was a young lad of twelve, who approached him quickly and gave a quick bow.

"My lord, your father requests that you and the Princess Diana join him at the head table as soon as I found you." Jon spoke with a shaking voice, where Tytos did not have teeth, his son seemed to inherit dual sets.

"Thank you, Jon." Tywin said dismissively, and guided Diana onward. Tytos was sitting, deep into his cups when the first course had yet to be served, bulging belly bouncing with laughter from a lick spittle before him, a Westerling.

"My boy!" Tytos called, and Tywin resisted the urge to openly glare at his father. "Lord Westerling has the most exciting business opportunity!"
The lord in question seemed to begin to sweat when he locked eyes with his liege lord's heir. "How much is it this time?" He ground out, and noted Diana's frown.

"Ten thousand dragons, my lord." Lord Westerling replied shakily, "To invest further in the mines of the Crag to increase trade."
"I did not realize that the mines were still active." Diana interjected, "Were they not depleted?" Or sold to neighboring keeps, Tywin added silently, although he was happy to note she was aware of Westerland politics, which also begged the question of who had a loose tongue to be cut out.

"Their production has slowed, but not halted completely." Gawain Westerling responded.

"And what is the interest on the loan? Surely if the mine is not producing enough to support itself, pouring money into it is not wise." Diana queried, her eyes alight, watching the lord cower under her scrutiny.

"Yes...well…" Gawain trailed off.

"How about this instead, Lady Sybell Spicer is in need of a husband, her dowry can be covered by house Lannister, which should pay for the mine." Diana offered, "If my betrothed and future good father agree, that is."

Tywin stared at her for a moment, for Tytos to take back the deal agreed would only make him look weaker than he already appeared by loaning out money that would not be returned.

To form a marriage alliance between two houses, and with house Spicer, those rich but low born, was a perfect way to save face. "I agree, you and Lady Spicer may even wed in the upcoming days to my own, it is customary for smaller weddings to take place, and the week long celebrations will end with the main wedding ceremony. I trust that is enough time to send the ravens to those necessary?"

While Diana at least mentioned his father, Tywin did not even spare the drunken fool a glance, and Lord Westerling simply nodded, his newly betrothed was at least a member of a rich family, spice trader ancestors or no.

Tywin sat next to his betrothed as the feast began, grinning to himself. Why bow to a dragon when one can make others bow to you?

Chapter Text

Rhaella was fierce with an embroidery needle, making quick even stitches. Diana watched with envy, while hers were just as straight and small, she only worked at half her sister's speed. It was the last night the two would share together before Rhaella returned for Diana's wedding to Tywin. The princess was happy enough with the match, but was unsure on how to proceed from there.

She had dreamt of the snarling lion for ages, since she was a child she dreamed of herself ascending the steps to the Iron Throne, and when she took her seat there was a large golden beast snapping his teeth at anyone who dared approach, to dare question her rule. Diana knew not to share her dreams with anyone, not since she was nine.

Aerys had just turned twelve, and they were playing "Come into my Castle," and she proudly proclaimed herself the Queen of Westeros, and Aerys had told her that he was the King, and would marry a beautiful maiden one day who would be the queen, not her. Childhood made a fool of the girl, and she stubbornly said that she would sit upon the Iron Throne, and not him. Aerys had began to swing his fake sword at her, the wood beating down on her arms as she tried to shield herself. "Upsurper!" He had snarled at her.

She ran to her grandfather, tears in her eyes and bruises quickly forming, worrying the king greatly. "You are a Dragon," He told her, "Fire made flesh, and fire does not cower, it burns."

From then on, Aegon was the only one she told her dreams to, of Jenny bringing a strange woman to court, of the baby crying with the smell of salt in the air and smoke in her lungs with a woman in a bed of blood, who would win a tourney, and the like.
Some were vague, but others crystal clear, such as when she dreamed of a maiden of golden hair and green eyes weeping before the statue of the maiden, begging the goddess to save her from the fate of marrying a second son. That was a more recent dream that began soon after word of the tourney in Lannisport reached court. Her grandfather thought her simply an intuitive child, but the woods witch is who made her grandfather believe in dragon dreams.
"You have the sight, child." The woods witch was a large woman, brought by her uncle's wife. She often told half truths to courtiers but whispered things to Jenny of Oldstones that were truth to only the two of them. "But you do not see with your eyes open."
Rhaella seemed to sense what Diana was thinking about, "You need to stop dreaming, Di. You are to be a Lady wife soon, you must do your duty." The crown princess was always mindful of duty, a word Diana wished someone would provide her sister with a synonym to use so she would not have to suffer the word for so long and so often.

"I cannot stop a dream anymore than I can keep a bird from flying, than I can keep a river from flowing." Diana bit back, staring at her needlework instead of her sister. The roaring lion of Lannister stared back at her, golden thread sharp against the black silk. Her personal sigil, or so she was planning, a golden lion on a black field. Scions of house Targaryen used to keep their own sigils, a practice that not been popular since the Blackfyre Rebellion. But married or not, she would still be a dragon, still keep at least a bit of her house with her in her image.
"Then stop listening to them." Rhaella pleaded, putting her half finished flower aside, she had stopped embroidering dragons onto anything since her wedding, Diana noticed, making the handkerchiefs she had received for her last name day all the more special to her, the delicate prancing dragons were the last her sister created.

"And if I told you I dreamed of your son?" Diana asked, her tone sharp.

Rhaella recoiled as if Diana had struck her, "I'm to have a son?" The fear and relief in her eyes made Diana nod, and Rhaella could feel her eyes begin to tear. "I shall give Aerys an heir." There is was again, that strange mix of hope and despair.

"He shall be small, but strong." Diana had started dreaming of it a few months after her sister's wedding. The woman with silver hair weeping over her screaming child, the maester speaking words she cannot hear. In that dream she sees what her sister does, the smell of salt from her own tears and smoke that burns her lungs, but the emotion felt is only utter joy.

"Thank you, Di." Rhaella murmured, "If it is just a dream, it is a beautiful dream to have." Diana only smiled.

"I should be going." Diana replied, and gathered her silks before heading back to her room.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*
It had been five moons since Diana and her sister had parted, and one more until they would see each other. One small letter was set before her in her personal rooms in the Rock, a hallway away from Tywin and his family's personal quarters. Rhaella was always mindful of eyes and ears, choosing to speak of trivialities in her letter, embedding true information within.

My Dearest Sister,
I'm so happy to hear that Casterly Rock suits you, you will make a lovely Lady Lannister. I shall see you soon sister, and look forward to your wedding. While the marriage bed can be a trouble, marriage is what cements any alliance. How is Lady Gemma? Does she still hold a distaste for fish? Too bad if so, we recently received quite the catch.
There is something else I should tell you, dear Diana. Dreams do come true, Aerys could not be more pleased, and I have begun to sew dragons onto small clothes.
Love always,
Rhaella Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone

Chapter Text

Tywin stood tall and proud, his crimson doublet embroidered with little snarling lions, so fine and intricate, one would think his shirt were only black with red glimpses, with dark pants and boots. He was the next lord of Casterly Rock, and he looked the part. He stood at the feet of the Father and the Mother, staring up expectantly at the looming steps that his betrothed would descend to become his Lady wife. 

The wedding party had been fully assembled a few minutes prior, the King and his family were seated by the mother, as was custom for the bride's family. King Aegon the fifth was rumored to be a sweet man, and Diana viewed him through a softer lens, and bent his description to that of a loving grandfather and just ruler. Yet there was a restlessness about him, the way he kept checking the exits as if he were fearful of someone bursting in.

The king even jumped when the doors opened, but all Tywin could see was the panes of colored glass illuminating Diana in a glow of reds, golds and blues. Her dress was all white silk, embroidered with golden threads of a lion sitting proud on the hem on her skirts, a dragon curled around the legs of the great beast. 

Her silver hair was pulled up in a series of twists and turns, golden bells tinkling with each step, ruby hair pins glinting in the light, she was a vision, and she was his. His pride swelled at the sight of her, the woman who would represent his house, sire his heirs and be his shield. 

She all but floated down the steps, red slippers dripping from her skirts. Her father, Prince Jaehaerys the second, stood slightly out of sight after leading his daughter to the altar. He stayed close for when he would take his daughter's maiden cloak and return to his seat where his two other children awaited him. 

Aerys glared daggers at his old friend, ignoring his lovely wife with a swollen belly, the green in his lilac eyes was unmistakable. Tywin told himself to ignore the crown prince's heir, and focus on Diana. Her breathing was shallow, and Tywin wondered if her corset was too tight or if she was nervous.

The Septon began to drone on about the blessings and virtues of marriage, but Tywin only responded when he was supposed to. "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." 

The crown prince stepped forward and removed the three headed dragon from his daughter's shoulders, with only a hint of reluctance. Jaheaerys seemed to be at war with himself regarding the marriage constantly, primarily because his father had handled the contracts, not him, claiming it was a king’s duty to see a princess wed, no doubt at Jahaerys’s choice to overrule the king with his own choice of bride. 

Tytos stepped forward then, and handed his son a crimson cloak with a golden lion, that Tywin in turn draped across Diana, though hidden from view of the others, her smirk of triumph was clear to him, as if he were the beast she had hunted down and caught. The Septon bound their hands with a white bolt of cloth, and they repeated him in unison, "Father, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Smith, Warrior, Stranger, I am his/hers and s/he is mine."

The Septon was a bulbous man, with a balding head and toothy smile. He grinned and proclaimed, "I now pronounce you lord husband and lady wife, may the stranger take any who try to tear them asunder!" The two leaned forward, kissing softly. 

There was no love shared between the two, despite being around each other for many moons, but there was a respect that could be cultivated, perhaps it would be love one day. Tywin would easily admit she was beautiful, his blushing bride. He did not love her, true, but she was his how, and the Stranger hath no fury like Tywin Lannister.

Tywin kept his Lady wife's hand even after the strip of cloth had been removed, and turned the audience. Diana was staring with a beaming smile at her family. Lady Jenny and Prince Duncan, Princess Rhaella and Prince Aerys, Queen Betha and King Aegon, along with a few darker haired cousins of varying Valyrian looks. Like the Lannisters, the Targaryens had a few cadet branches, but the Targaryens had waned over the years, producing mainly daughters who wed into other lines, while the royal family kept marrying in whenever possible.

"Lady wife." Tywin said softly, enjoying the blush that crossed her face. Sometimes he forgot she had yet to reach her seventeenth name day, which was fastly approaching. Would she appreciate jewels, Lannister gold? 

"Lord husband." Diana replied with a grin, watching the great houses around them mingle. The only lord paramount who was not there was Rickard Stark, who had sent a raven stating that his own wedding was planned for a few weeks after her own, and travel would not permit him to attend both. He had sent a lovely breeding pair of strong northern shire horses through Lord Manderly, who was in attendance. 

Tywin was pleased with the northerner for such a practical gift, and the possible trade that would ensue from studding out the male to various houses. Not to mention the foals once grown would make excellent packing horses. The Queen, in particular, seemed enamored with them as she rode a similar horse from the North after Aegon the Unlikely was crowned beside her. 

The wedding feast was a lively one, with the Redwynes bringing casks of Arbour Gold as their wedding gift. Small folk and nobles alike waited to gift the next Lord and Lady of the Westerlands, something that surprised Tywin. 

The people of Lannisport had come to adore Diana in a way no Lannister ha d been able to earn. She did not just throw money at the poor, or offer them her prayers, she was personable. The frequent visits to the port town had yielded the love of the people, Lady Brightheart, they called her. He had heard ballads even, although the frequency in which they were sung made him think they were being paid generously to do so.

The Tyrells gave Diana a multitude of dresses in the style of the Reach, and lacking in modesty. The Baratheons gave the couple a set of fine quills and other tools to write, along with various colors of wax: gold, red and black. Diana beamed at her cousin, and promised to write to him with the set. 

Tywin enjoyed watching her work with those around her, she used the same care talking to Ser Steffon that she did the withered crone who walked up next. "Lord and Lady Lannister, I have spent many a moon preparing this." Two men stood behind her, the shared features naming them most likely her grandsons, "For Lady Brightheart" she murmured, and a banner of rough spun black wool hung upon the piece of wood they used to back it, a golden lion prancing upon it.

He turned to look at Diana when he heard her surprised gasp, her purple eyes were wide and tearing up. "Oh, Jeyne…" Diana knew the old crone? Her skirts swished as Tywin watched her descend the platform the high table was on, and motion her head handmaiden forward, Alyssa, who pulled a small pouch of what he assumed to be gold. "It's beautiful!" Diana gushed, "How did you know?"

The old woman laughed, "When you would visit Nina, you were always looking for black bolts and golden threads." Who was Nina? Diana moved forward to hand her the coin Alyssa transferred to her, but Jeyne would not accept it. "I cannot accept payment for a gift!"

Diana surprised him in that moment, she curtseyed before the old crone, causing whispers to erupt by all in attendance. "Thank you, Jeyne." When she returned to her seat, Tywin bent to her ear, as if to kiss her cheek, but whispered before he did, "Why did that crone give you a banner?"

The Valyrian beauty grinned at him with sharp teeth on display, "My personal sigil, I have been attempting to sew it for months, but one uneven stitch and the whole piece would be ruined, so when I visited Lannisport, I started stopping at a small shop that was rumored to have the brightest threads, and it is run by a seamstress named Nina, Jeyne's daughter. Soon word got out that the princess had begun to shop there, and they now have to double their stock to meet the demands." 

Ah, so that was how she was winning the love of the middle class as well, the merchants and small folk both loved her because of how she used her coin personally. To know the wife of their future liege lord was shopping somewhere would draw others there to curry favor. Tywin had never thought it a good use of his time, but for his wife? She could easily do it while maintaining his household.

The gifts continued, and the nobles seemed to be slightly displeased that Diana took such special care with a peasant's gift and only thanked them for their own. "My lady," Tywin began as the gift givers finally dwindled, "I want you to plan sewing sessions and luncheons with a few of our banner men's wives and daughters, you shall need to start establishing your household, ensure pages, squires and handmaidens from varying houses to keep ties tight. They laugh at my father, they will not laugh at us."

He noted that Diana liked the way he said ours and us, she was of the same mind when it came to the game of thrones, power meant everything. "Of course, my Lord husband."

Chapter Text

Diana could not help but be pleased to find her husband as much of a maiden as she was on their wedding night.

Alyssa made quick work of her dress but Diana insisted on leaving her hair was it was, tinkling bells and all. She anointed her palms and neck with a softly scented ointment and dismissed her handmaiden while she remained only in her shift. With the sun long set, she stood beneath the light of a full moon over a single window carved high above her head.

She considered stepping away from the natural light just as the door opened, a slight panic enveloping her. Rhaella had refused to speak of her wedding night, though she had heard of the whispers of excessive blood and bite marks on the princess’s body. Would Tywin also enjoy ravishing her to the point of pain, of ruining her completely? All the confidence to which she had deftly maneuvered the past few moons melted away at the sight of her husband at the door, doublet partially unlaced, his face stoic as he drank in the sight of her. Diana struggled not to cower beneath such a mighty gaze, squaring her shoulders to hide the trembling. “My lord.” Her voice betrayed her and she held back a wince.

“Your highness.” He used her formal title, which she had not expected. His regal voice made her all too aware of how thin the single item of clothing she wore was, furthered by the dip of his gaze to her chest, to her pebbled nipples and trembling thighs. The look in his gaze was familiar, he was staring at his prize, he looked at her with a gaze of ownership.

Crossing the room in quick, sure steps, he had kissed her with a fury, but his hands wandered her body with unsure hands. Tywin touched her with a possessiveness and wide eyed wonder that she did not expect, reaching beneath the cloth to touch her bare skin, not bothering to remove his clothes, which she clung to tightly as he pressed himself against her, causing her to stumble back until her legs hit the bed and he was on top of her.

He hesitated again before kissing her softly this time and his hand pulled her thigh up so she was half straddling him, giving him more control. She could feel him, the wild race of his pulse and his manhood stiff between his legs, a pulse erupting from between hers.

‘Was this desire?’ She thought, her fingers groping in the dark, pulling his doublet free so she could splay her fingers across his back, drink in his pants between feverish kisses. Was this the same man who had entered her rooms a moment before, so sure yet so withdrawn? Diana lost the thought as his fingertips gripped into her hips when he entered her for the first time. The gasp of pain that escaped her was expected, the finality of it was not. She was a Lannister now, her marriage sealed and consummated.

He took her on his bed, staring down at her with a lust she had never seen in his eyes before. Tywin Lannister was eighteen, with the hands of a man who knew both swords and quills, with the rough calluses and gentle caresses. When he whispered her name with a strained gasp, she realized that he had never called her by it. She lost herself in him then, in the buck of his hips and the way he seemed to drown in the pleasure of her body, she both had power over him and was powerless. Diana didn’t think she ever needed anyone more than in that moment. When he finished in her she prayed to the seven for a child, an heir that would please her husband and give the bannermen no reason to gripe that if Tywin had married one of their daughters, an heir would have been created.

Tywin was not one for coddling, but he kept his arm around Diana's waist as they lay in their marriage bed. One of her father's servants would be along soon, she had no doubt, to collect the blood stained sheets, she could feel the slickness between her thighs, a mixture of both of them, proof of what they had just done.
The royal retinue would be leaving soon, heading to Summerhall for a grand party her grandfather had planned, it had been announced as a celebration of Rhaella's pregnancy. Diana knew better, her grandfather had been speaking of dragons the past few years.

At thirteen, Diana had loved listening to the stories of Visenya and Rhaenys and the dragons they rode. But as she grew tired of the stories, her grandfather became more enamored. The wood's witch that her uncle's wife-Jenny, while a lovely woman, was a commoner, and it would be improper for Diana to ever refer to her as an aunt-brought to court had given many accurate predictions, things Diana could only glimpse of in a dream. S

he had sold the tale of the Prince who was promised, and how he would be born of the children of Jaehaerys. Diana scorned the wood's witch for that alone, dooming her sister to such a fate. Summerhall was in Dorne, but since most major houses were in Casterly Rock already, half of her wedding party would be sailing to Summerhall. Her cousin, Steffon was supposed to be among them, but a raven had arrived that his brother had recently been injured, and he was needed in Storm's End.

Diana was not sure why Summerhall gave her such a bad feeling, but it was one she could not shake. She pulled the blanket that had been pushed aside over them both, Tywin’s eyes having long since closed in the name of sleep and she tried to join him. His touch soothed her but still, she dreamt of fire and blood, of death begetting death.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The candle maker's daughter served as Tytos's whore, Diana soon learned that her name was Megga, not that she ever called the whore by her name. The woman had helped herself to the Lady of the Rock's jewels, and had the audacity to wear the largest stone, a ruby the size of a palm, set in a snarling lion's mouth, to the grand hall as she and Tywin broke their fast. It was a jewel worn solely by the Lady of the Rock and a way of reminding Diana that she currently held the title only in name. It was an act of defiance, Diana had gotten her good father keep into his cups by having a servant constantly refilling his goblet, and then waited until the lord was distracted at the wedding breakfast to order a few Targaryen guards to stand watch at the entrance of the tower, forbidding anyone to enter or leave save servants who held no love for the whore of Casterly Rock.

All it took was a bag of gold, and Diana made sure her wedding was without shame.
So there Megga was, swathed in silk and velvet that she supposed showed how much favor Tytos showed her, but in reality it only showed that the woman had no idea what fashion was. The fabric was heavy and boxy, leaving the woman looking more like a sack than a maiden. It had the styles of five different courtesan dresses presented as one and would no doubt send the tongues of proper ladies wagging. "Lady Targaryen, are you well? Lannister men can be so...eager." The woman smirked at Diana, thinking to embarrass her.

Her father, grandfather and his party had left at dawn, her grandfather leaving her the most interesting of wedding presents, a decree that she would receive the red dragon egg that had been placed in her cradle as a babe, but had never hatched. There was much speculation as to whether her own children would receive an egg, as they would be Targaryen by blood but not by name. The gift was strange, and had her thoughts spinning, but she was thanking the gods that her sentimental grandfather had left so he would not have to hear such things about his granddaughter.

Her lip curled slightly at the woman's remark, but other than that she seemed outwardly unfazed. "Do you mean Princess Diana? I have never been Lady Targaryen. It's Lady Lannister, with Tytos a widow, I am acting Lady of the Westerlands." Her eyes dipped towards the necklace for a moment before meeting her gaze with a chilly expression. Megga seemed pleased, stroking the jewel with a cat who got the canary grin. "And my Lord husband and I are both aware of our duty, and are working towards an heir." She felt Tywin place his hand on her knee under the breakfast table, squeezing her leg as a sign of approval. She could not put Megga in her place properly with Tywin's father alive, but the old man was heavy, he would eat, drink and whore himself to death soon enough, and her husband shall be a far better lord than his father ever was, she would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

For the first portion of their marriage, Tywin found himself spending each night with his new wife, usually trying for an heir. If he were crass, he would repeat the gossip that they “fucked like rabbits,” but he was a proper lord and would never. Instead, he learned every curve of her body, kiss and nipped and licked and enjoyed taking parts in what he had only heard happened in brothels. His father taking a whore to bed had soured the idea of doing so himself, no matter how expensive or nicely dressed they were.

Instead, he relished in the power he had over the Targaryen Princess who now warmed his bed nightly. She was eager, the desire one could only have after being freshly deflowered and he relished in taking her every night, of the thought of the son who would soon swell in her belly, of everyone knowing that she belonged to him. When a servant whispered to another the term “dragon tamer,” he pretended not to hear, focusing instead on the horse he was about to mount for a visit to Lannisport.

Yet at night, her strange nature could not be contained. Tywin knew there was something different about his wife, before he could brush off the way she seemed to always have a knowing look in her eyes. Yet when she woke up screaming in grief two moons after their wedding, dragon dreams did not seem so ludicrous. He knew Diana had received a set of letters, from her mother, her sister, her father and even her grandfather, the king. They had been sharing a bed every night with bated breath, waiting for her womb to quicken with the child she was sure they would soon have. Tywin assumed it to be nerves and had the Maester give her something to remain calm at night that would not harm a pregnancy due to her fretful dreams. She always refused to say what her dreams were, that she did not remember but the haunted look in her eyes told another story.

When he was awoken in the dead of night to a sorrowful wail, Tywin instinctively flung himself from the feather bed and drew the curtains back, looking for an intruder but seeing only his wife, lit by dying candles. Her other worldly Valyrian beauty was striking, flickering in the shadows, but there were tears in her eyes and she was paler than normal. He tentatively removed the covers that covered his shaking bride, but found no blood on the sheets. "Diana, what is it?" In their room, Diana had insisted on refraining from titles, she had been rather amusing when she admitted that she liked the way he said her name but there was nothing amusing about her now.

Her purple eyes were wide, her whole form cowering, "I need to go." Those were the only words she spoke before she lunged forward, bolting out the door in nothing but her shift. Tywin cursed, and contemplated having the spooked guards that stood outside their chambers go after her. No, that would only insight rumors, Diana may be regarded as Lady of the Rock, but her blood was Targaryen, and madness or greatness followed that blood line. Cursing to the seven hells, he pulled his boots onto his feet before heading after her, pulling a shirt over his own bare chest and was thankful he had thought to pull a pair of pants on after their last session of vulgarity.

It was the beginning of dawn, so the only other people awake were the servants. Diana was still learning the ways of the Rock, so she only knew the easiest ways to get to places, so Tywin took the more commonly used hall that would lead to the Lion's Mouth, and the courtyard surrounding the keep.

A streak of silver crossed the corner of his eye, and Tywin ran faster. Diana was lithe, but with bare feet and her waist length hair fluttering behind her, she was hard to miss, a flicker of silver and white. "Diana!" Tywin snarled, reaching out with his hands to grab onto her. His fingers found purchase in her mane, and while he hated the yelp of pain that escaped her when he pulled, the heir to the Westerlands yanked his bride by her hair until he could dig his hands into her shoulders.

"What happened?" Tywin demanded, fingers pressed into her scalp, but she would only weep and repeat that she had to save them.

He picked her up and carried her back to his personal chambers, fearful of what she might try if he were to bring her to hers. Tywin ordered the guards to fetch the Maester with something to help her sleep. Diana was a wreck, staining his sleep shirt with her tears, muttering nonsense and refusing to breathe normally.

"I have to help them!" Diana moaned, "Why would I see this if I could not prevent it? Death only births more death!" She babbled on and on, until Maester Pycelle, a man who had recently taken over when their old Maester met the Seven entered the room. He was prideful, mainly because he served house Lannister, and gave Diana enough sweet sleep to ensure she was down for the day. Tywin hoped that was enough time for her to calm down.

"My lord?" Pycelle simpered, his brown hair was already turning grey, even into his rather long beard. "This letter also came, it bears the royal seal, it is addressed to you, Lord Tywin, and the Princess Diana." Tywin stared down at three headed dragon, the red and black wax unbroken. The lord paled as he read it, and then turned to stare at his wife, realization dawned on him as he watched red smear across the sheets, coming from between Diana’s legs. The letter was short, written by the king as if in a hurry.

Lord and Lady Lannister,
Summerhall is no more, destroyed by wildfire. Sorcery has claimed the lives of many, including the King, Aegon the fifth, his hand, Ser Duncan the Tall, and his eldest son, Ser Duncan the Small. Amongst the ashes, I was made a grandfather, and Diana an aunt. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was born in the rubble. The royal party will sail directly to King's Landing, where the realm will gather to renew their oaths to the Targaryen Dynasty.
Signed,
King Jaehaerys of the house Targaryen, the Second of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

Tywin stared at the words, before finally murmuring, "Long live the king” and ordering the Maester to tend to his wife. His words haunted her the rest of the day, “Death births only more death.”

Chapter Text

Diana remained in her rooms for a fortnight, openly grieving and her weeping echoed through the rock. The favorite grandchild of Aegon the fifth openly cursed the wood's witch who put the idea of dragons come again into her grandfather's head. 

From the rubble of ashes and corpses, a few dragon eggs had been found, one of them being the red one promised to her. It had arrived via a rider from house Dayne, who offered his apologies for the tragedy of Summerhall and then rested for a day, before moving on for King's landing. Diana never wished to return there, but Tywin had given her all the time he could afford.

 They would leave in an hour, for a grueling two week journey to King's Landing, the carriage of ornate gold surely would slow them down. But Gemma was not as skilled in horseback riding as Diana was, and riding for two weeks straight seemed daunting even to the princess.

"Rhaegar." Diana murmured to herself, that was her nephew's name. She had dreamed of her sister weeping over the babe for months, but two weeks ago the dream changed. Slowly, through Rhaella's eyes, Diana saw the destruction surrounding them. The looming towers falling prey to green flame, the screams of those burning, the smell of searing flesh. 

It made the wound of her lost child cut deeper. The Maester had told her it was little more than a pound of flesh and a worrisome amount of blood, but not to worry because she was healthy enough to try again, as if that would bring her comfort. 

But there was nothing she could do, and it tore Diana apart. Already, one her spies had told her of Lady Ellen Tarbeck, formerly Lady Reyne, and how the woman had scoffed at the weakness of the new Lady of house Lannister. A barren dragon, the woman had said of her, a simpering, weeping girl. Diana knew that the Tarbecks were the worst offenders when it came to unrepaid loans, their hall was rebuilt on Lannister gold. 

Tywin wished to demand every copper back, but his father would not allow it. Diana had thought her good father a fool, someone easy to control, although currently Megga was doing so, not her or Tywin. But a fool is a fool, who could not understand what having power truly meant. His mistress was threatened by her, and was demanding more lavish gifts by the day, while his bannerman laughed at the toothless lion. Tytos would need to be removed soon.

Alyssa had been nice enough to pack her newer dresses, with proud lions prancing on the cloth and golden and black silks. Her handmaiden had served Diana since they were both children, and the Velaryon maiden would be missed when it was time for her to wed. Recently, Alyssa had been walking through Lannisport with the lord of the Banefort, whose father had passed the previous year. 

The Baneforts were of even standing with Velaryon, and the two would make an excellent match. Alyssa was pretty enough, with hazel eyes and chestnut hair, she was no great beauty, but Arthur Banefort certainly looked at her as if she were. When they got back to the Rock, she would draft a letter and hope it reached Lord Velaryon before they met in King’s Landing for the funerals. For now, she would head down to Lannisport, and spend her morning with the poor. Grieving or not, she had appearances to keep up, and two weeks without her had left the small folk asking for Lady Brightheart, a nickname that seemed to have stuck.

Alyssa and Gemma trailed behind her in the city, with a handful of guards bearing the prancing lion on their breast. Diana was always easy to spot, with her personal standard being held by one of the soldiers, and the trail of servants from the castle bearing bread and flagons of watered wine. Her efforts had made only a slight dip in the coffers, so any complaints of waste directed at her would be replied with the plan she had been pushing, by issuing an extra copper in taxes for every man that a whore brought to her bed, she could afford to feed all the Westerlands. 

Diana grinned, remembering how she made her husband laugh for the first time, she had suggested that Megga would bring in enough coppers with her good father within a moon to feed the poor for a decade. Slowly, he was warming up to her, primarily when they lay in bed, basking in the aftermath of their love making.

They had been in his bed then, Diana often spent her nights in his chambers before crossing the hall to her own for the day. His touch brought her comfort, in the weeks since she lost what would have been their child, when she lost her closest family. Her moon blood was late by a  day, it was too soon to know but she still hoped and prayed to the Seven. What worried her most was that she had dreamed of her nephew a few months before his conception, yet had no dreams of children of her own. 

Lady Tarbeck's voice laughed in her head, mocking the barren dragon. Some women did not have children for a few years after they had wed, but Diana wanted a child so badly. Would Tywin wear the triumphant smirk he expressed when she had saved Gemma from a life with a Frey? Or would he simply nod and thank her for doing her duty? Surely, the nights they spent together had evolved from merely duty and onto pleasure, closeness, perhaps even love?

"Lady Brightheart!" The voices called, the children always shouted for her first. A servant, Alla, she remembered, handed her a smaller basket than the large ones the servants carried. The wicker held a bundle of black and red silks, fresh bread still warm. Diana thanked the maid and received a courtesy in return. A girl wearing more rags than actual clothes leapt towards her, and Diana instinctively took the child into her arms. She was no more than six, and scrawny for her age. Her wide green eyes drank in the Lady, before she mumbled, "You are so pretty, milady." The guards around her looked wary, as if they had failed in their duties by letting a child so close to their lady.

"Thank you, little lady." Diana responded, smiling for the first time in ages. She reached into her basket and brought forth a loaf of bread. "For you, my lady." The child seemed to beam at the title, and took the bread eagerly as Diana slowly lowered her to the ground. Children swarmed the Targaryen princess, wonder abound. A boy approached her slower than the others, around the age of nine. He winced with every step, and Diana stifled a gasp at the poor child's blistered and cut feet.

"What happened?" Diana asked him, and the boy looked as though he could cry.

"I was getting f-fish, for my sister and me." The boy blubbered, "And the shells cut me feets." He was far too thin as it was, his sister as well. The shores near Lannisport were dangerous enough due to the ships, but the shores where he must have cut his feet were far from where a child would get chased away due to it’s rough sand.

"Alyssa!" Diana called, and her handmaiden stepped forward, "Go to the seamstress, Nina, and ask for a few scraps of cloth, a rag, and a bowl." Diana picked the boy up, trying not to be upset at the sight of dirt now smudging her chest from the boy's filthy clothes. "Where is your sister, dear?" The girl from before re-emerged, it seemed another child had seen the commotion and went to fetch her.

"Tywin!" The little girl shrieked, rushing towards her brother. Diana was momentarily confused, before she realized the boy had been named after her lord husband. Her heart stabbed with pain, if her baby had been a boy, would she have named him Tywin?

The servants continued to pass out the food and drink brought, but most simply took it with a quiet thanks and continued to watch their lady interact with the orphans. "Where are your parents?" Diana prodded, attempting to soothe both children. Alyssa reappeared with Nina, the seamstress whose mother had given her the banner at her wedding, with soft cloths, a package of salve that a Septon of the Sept they visited often on their way back to the Rock had proffered, as well as a bowl filled with water.

She cuddled the boy closer to her chest, looking in dismay at his wounds. As Diana cleaned the whimpering boys feet, the girl answered, "Father passed away a few months ago, he was a soldier escorting a party that was attacked by bandits." The princess attempted to show no emotion when the new information was processed, the head of arms at Lannisport had sent out extra troops to parties attending the wedding since bandits had been a problem lately.

"What is your name, little lady?" Diana asked, dipping the slowly reddening cloth into the blood and dirt stained water bowl. The boy's feet were almost clean enough to put the salve on and wrap up, they were not infected yet but would probably scar. Her husband would scoff at her for thinking of asking Maester Pycelle to look at the boy's wounds but she needed to do this, needed to close the gaping hole in her chest. 

"Ellinor." The black haired girl responded, and Diana studied the siblings. They each had dark hair and green eyes, and Diana wondered who inherited whose noses, for the siblings had different shapes there.

"And where is your mother, Ellinor?" Diana asked, picking up the salve. The girl was quiet then, and shame crossed her face.

"Father said she left this world by giving him the best daughter he could have asked for." Tywin answered for his younger sibling. Diana only nodded, blinking away tears. 

"Lady Lannister?" A soldier had stepped forward and broke rank, causing the small folk to whisper. Diana waved him forward and he bowed before stating, "I knew their father, my lady. Quill was a good man, served House Lannister his whole life."

"And now they are orphans on the street." Diana said simply, perhaps it was her grief speaking, but the woman responded, "Ellinor, Tywin, what would you like to be when you grow up?"

"A soldier, like my father!" Tywin said with a grin, and Diana felt her heart yearn for a child that would speak of her husband like that. "I want to be the next Aemon the Dragon knight, and join the King's guard."

Ellinor simply stared longingly at the beautiful silks that Diana wore, "I want to make the prettiest clothes in the seven kingdoms."

Diana grinned, turning to the man who stepped forward before, "You are a knight, correct Sir?"

The man nodded, "Aye, knighted at a tourney two name days ago for the Lord Gerion." The soldier looked at her strangely for the question, not understanding why she would ask such a thing. "My name is Ser Addam, your grace."

"Tywin here, shall be your page, Ser Addam. And when the time comes, your squire." Diana commanded, and the small folk cheered, she had all but forgotten they were there, which was ironic considering she had come to Lannisport to be noticed. Diana pondered for a moment on what to do with little Ellinor when Nina stepped forward.

"My lady, I have only two sons." The seamstress began, "Without a daughter, I was considering taking on an apprentice." Ellinor seemed to light up, her grin revealing a missing milk tooth.

"I shall pay the fee, and have someone bring you the sum before the night is out." Diana offered, smiling. But Nina would have none of it.

"Your patronship has made me have to bring in an apprentice for all the extra commissions coming in!" Nina replied, "And my mother would never forgive me for refusing to help with an act of Lady Brightheart." The small crowd seemed to swell, their cheers echoing. Rumors had already begun to fly about the princess, of Lady Brightheart, of the Mother come again.

Chapter Text

Tywin walked swiftly to his wife's solar. It had belonged to every Lady of Casterly Rock, and every Queen of the Rock before her, the Lannister's were nothing without their traditions and shows of wealth. The door itself was weirwood, an odd choice but sturdy, with diamond handles. 

Diana sat behind her desk, a large sturdy thing of dark wood and roaring lions carved made up the legs, but she was not alone. A woman, who was wearing a dress that was rough spun, but the lack of wear on the dress signaled that she was probably wearing the nicest dress she owned. She was in her late forties, hair freshly plaited and dirt washed from her face. A peasant woman was in his wife's solar, he knew his wife had interesting methods but he bristled none the less.

"My love." Diana called out, Tywin gave her a shadow of a smile. Her affectionate tone had slowly lost the forced tone to it as time wore on… or perhaps she was just getting better at faking it. His wife turned back to the peasant woman, "Thank you so much for verifying this information, Tasha, please let me know of any new additions."

The woman, Tasha apparently, knew she was being dismissed and curtsied deeply, "Lady Brightheart, Lord Lannister." Outside the door, a guard led her out so she would not get lost or nosy on her way out.

"What's this I hear of you adopting orphans?" Tywin got straight to the point, as was his way, although his sarcastic drawl was clear. Diana chortled, before laughing softly to herself.

"We leave in half an hour and you ask if I am adopting a brood?" Diana asked, her tone playful. Rumors were flying through the city, and would no doubt spread through the Westerlands as their retinue traveled to King's Landing.

"Then what did you do today, dearest wife?" Tywin drawled, growing tired of her games. His wife smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes.

"A little boy, his name was Tywin." That did not surprise him, many small folk named their children after their liege lords or their families. "His feet were cut up, to the point that he could not walk. Do you remember the Master of Arms sending out extra soldiers as an escort to a few nobles on the River Road?"

It was an odd thing of her to ask him, but of course he remembered, the man had asked Tywin personally to gain permission for the trip and the coin necessary, as his father was indisposed in the south tower…again. "Yes, there was a slight skirmish when Hoster Tully traveled here." The guilt in her eyes confirmed why it was important. "The boy lost his father to the bandits then?"

Diana was a constriction he was still trying to understand. She was ruthless in politics, playing lords and ladies like a mummer, making a grand show of charity to win the hearts of the small folk. But now, she had gone too far. Soldiers died, it’s what they do, but she was making it personal.

Diana nodded, "His mother died giving birth to his little sister, Ellinor. That boy was nine name days old, and he was raising his sister. He cut his feet by the docks, trying to catch fish on the rocky shore, there were tiny bits of sea shells still in his wounds. Our wedding caused his father's death, we are responsible for that."

Tywin resisted scoffing, she was weeping over small folk now? "Their father was a soldier, he knew the risks." He responded flatly, gritting his teeth at the flash of rage in her eyes.

Diana stood, Tywin still towered over her, but she was a princess, and knew how to take up space, her presence was powerful. "I am gathering a registry, Tywin. Every Lannister soldier that gives his life for this house shall have his family taken care of. If the children are left orphaned, they will be given positions in open house holds, if they show an affinity to a trade, whoever apprentices them shall receive a tax break of one gold dragon per three moons. If a woman is widowed, she shall receive a gold dragon every three moons until she weds again. That woman who was here was a midwife, she confirmed who was actually the child or widow of a soldier, and shall continue to do so in order to avoid fraud, anyone caught trying to register someone who is not their wife and child will be publicly executed." Diana spoke with a finality that had him enraged.

"And who will be paying for such generosity, Diana? From the coffers of my house, that my father already pisses away?" Tywin shouted, his fists curling. But his wife did not even flinch, roaring lion or not. He thought of striking her then, taking the wind from her sails. But this was the most alive she had looked in weeks, burning with determination. If it were not for the sheer cost of her idea, he would have agreed to keep her complacent. 

"I shall be." Diana replied, "I have always been good at predicting tourneys, and have a few thousand dragons from it. When that exhausts itself, I shall find a way to find the coin, if it has not already earned its own use."

"What use?" Tywin snapped impatiently, he hated when she spoke in riddles. She was giving money away, the dead had no profits to be made and the mines would not produce forever. Already, the glass imports had been steadying their excessive income but he would not allow his hard word getting a non-compete contract signed for his wife to go pissing it away on orphans.

Diana did not respond, merely walked to the door and turned to a guard, "Send in Ser Marcus in, please." Why was the Master at Arms waiting to see her?

"My Lord, my Lady!" Ser Marcus walked in, jittering about as if he were overjoyed. "I've just had two hundred men wish to join the ranks of the red cloaks!" Two hundred men? If the rumors of the Ninepenny Kings were to be true, they would need to bolster their men and ensure the soldiers were not simply green boys for slaughter, it was cheaper to have seasons soldiers live, after all.

Diana was glowing, her smile wide, Tywin found himself faltering for the first time in his short life. "Wonderful news, Ser. Whatever caused such a rapid increase in recruits?"

"You, my lady." Tywin was shocked, the people were that moved by Diana offering a few coppers a month? Tywin would have to do the math with the Maester, but the expense would not be too high, especially in times of peace, but would ensure the loyalty of his men. They would be more willing to run into death with their families taken care of. "The men speak of Lady Lannister, they call you Lady Brightheart, the Lady of the people, and would give their lives for you, they claim."

"Thank you for the news, Ser." Tywin stated tightly, "Do tell my father the news." Ser Marcus nodded, feeling the tension in the room and left. "Well wife, it seems the small folk are enraptured with you."

"The smallfolk win wars, husband." Diana stated, and reached into her desk. "My sister has written to me, she is looking forward to seeing me. She is praying to the Warrior, apparently."

Tywin was not a fool, and neither was the woman he wed. Letters were always written in code, ravens were easily shot down. "War is brewing." It was not a question, but a statement of fact. Marrying into the royal household had benefits such as this, being the first to know when something was going to happen, her strange dreams or not.

"And we shall need the men. My grandfather wished for me to marry a Lord Paramount to ensure a large army loyal to the royal family." It was the first time she had mentioned her grandfather since he had watched her throw the dragon egg that he left her into her hearth, she would watch the egg lick up the flames but never burn. ' He burned with this damn egg.' She had hissed. The flames only danced around the priceless artifact, and it would burn to the touch even when the flames had died out, never fully cooling before the fireplace was relit.

"Did you dream of it?" Tywin asked nonchalantly, but the flash of fear in her eyes confirmed what he had never accepted himself, the blood of Old Valyria that ran in her veins, the dragon dreams.

"Only of a white knight battling a Blackfyre knight on horseback." Diana whispered, "A King's guard, I believe." Tywin nodded, pocketing the information away. If it happened, then Tywin would hold stock in his wife's eccentricities.

"Come, we need to head out." Tywin told her, and held his hand out. His wife walked around her desk to come to his side and take his offered arm, she didn’t dare tell him about the twisting feeling in her stomach, unsure of what it meant. "Two weeks on the King's Road, I've no doubt the funeral is an excuse to draw all the great lords in and call the banners."

Chapter Text

It felt strange, that nearly a year after she had arrived to Casterly Rock in a carriage with her sister to meet her betrothed, that Diana would be leaving the same place in an even grander carriage-one Tywin had commissioned specifically for her so that they might tour the Westerlands once the war was done- with her husband to see her sister and new nephew.

 A tiny jacket was on Diana's lap, she had been studiously stitching her family's sigil of the three headed dragon onto the back. They were to arrive in King's Landing by midday, and two weeks of traveling had yet to bring her moon's blood, making is a month late. She was not ready for the whole court to know, so she decided against visiting the Grand Maester. Perhaps a midwife in Flea Bottom? A few dragons can buy silence just as it can buy loyalty. 

Diana made sure to keep her handmaidens unaware, making sure to always go to Alyssa whenever she needed anything of the sort, as her head lady in waiting, it made sense why they were not privy to when her flower was blooming. Alyssa had yet to ask after it yet, but the knowing smile she gives when she helps Diana to hide from others the nausea and vomit that occurred every morning before she went to the Hall of Heroes to break her fast allows her to not have to say it out loud just yet. Lady Tarbeck's mocking voice reflects in her head, ' The Barren Dragon.' Her hand fell to her stomach, her thoughts halting the steady rhythm of her stitching.

"My lady?" Alyssa questions softly, and for a moment Diana forgot she was not alone in the carriage. Her handmaidens followed like obedient mice, Alyssa Velaryon, Gemma Lannister, Lyna Lefford and Chrysti Brax. Alyssa had been with her since she was thirteen, Gemma having joined her as a clause in her marriage contract, while Lyna and Chysti joined her service under the promise that she would show them how to run households and be good wives, and then find them advantageous marriages.

 Lyna was a sweet girl, although slightly shy. Diana could not stand Chrysti, for house Brax was an affluent house with enough gold to spare, so as the only daughter Chrysti was spoiled. Diana had made a mental note to find a husband just as obnoxious for her, out of the Westerlands so she would see the girl as scarcely as possible, perhaps she would find her a match in King’s Landing.

"Just the movement of the carriage." Diana replied, assuring her handmaidens she was fine. She moved the silk curtains slightly, peeking out the windows to see Aegon's Hill in the distance, thank the gods.

She could see Tywin riding a few scores ahead, they had an escort of a hundred men. They would arrive just in time for the funeral, she had been told. There were no bodies to burn, it had been done for them. Instead of laying in the Great Sept of Baelor for seven days, her grandfather, her uncle, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and her uncle's wife were simply represented by urns filled with ashes gathered from the ruins of Summerhall. ' A Dragon does not fear fire, a Dragon is fire' Her grandfather had told her, yet he was reduced to dust by fire. Perhaps he was not a true dragon after all, where any of them, anymore?

They began their descent up through the Lion's Gate, rather fitting, she thought. The Great Sept loomed in the distance, and Diana wanted nothing more than to lose her breakfast from the constant rocking of the carriage from the old road. "Princess! Princess!" The small folk cheered, waving little banners with the three headed dragon and a lion on a black field. It seemed a vendor was selling them for a copper piece, and making quite a steal. Tywin grinned down at her, having ridden up next to the carriage as they rode into the city.

The carriage pulled to a stop before a great series of steps that led into the Sept, and Tywin dismounted his horse as a servant opened the door to the cushioned space his wife occupied. He offered his hand to Diana, and she took it gently, regal as a queen. Her black silk dress swished around her, long sleeved with a high neckline, it was somber enough for a funeral, yet the bright gold of her hem drew the eye of anyone around, a golden lion. It was her first time returning to King's Landing since her wedding, and there was no doubt which house the Valyrian beauty had been bonded to.

They took the steps slowly, a procession of mourners. When they entered, the king had already arrived. Her father had always been a sickly man, but grief had aged him even further. ' This crown will kill him' Diana thought, he wore the crown of her great grandfather, King Maekar. It was a crown of war, and he would never survive the weight of it.

Diana kept her neck straight the entire memorial, and only let a few tears shed. She would not let anyone see her weep again. The High Septon seemed to prattle on and on about how the deceased would be missed, in the highest of the seven heavens, and that the wood's witch who beguiled the king's mind would rot in the seventh hell, Diana tried not to listen.

When he finally concluded the service, Diana immediately went to her sister's side, ignoring her princely brother's lustful gaze. She had already promised to wed off Chrysti so that she could take Joanna Lannister on as a handmaiden in her place. Rhaella had seen the way her husband looked at the woman, and wanted it to escalate no further.

Rhaegar was five weeks old, and swaddled in silks in his mother's arms. A small army of nurses and handmaidens stood a polite distance away, ever vigilant. "May I hold him?" Diana asked, trying not to start crying again. Her heart swelled as the babe was passed to her, she so much wanted one of her own. He had Rhaella's eyes, the lighter shade of lavender that her sister possessed, but he had Aerys's nose, a forgivable trait, she guessed.

Aerys seemed pleased with his heir, but Tywin stared at her queerly. There was a hooded longing that made her feel as if she had failed him, even though they had been wed just under a year. "Lord Tywin, or should I say, my good son." King Jaehaerys began, though it did not escape Diana's notice the fury on her brother's face at her father's words, "I am calling a small meeting, the lord paramounts and the small council, we shall eat and discuss the Blackfyres." He spat the final words, and Diana knew her husband's fate was sealed, war was coming.

Which Kingsguard would fight the Blackfyre? Who would win? 

"Come sister, let us have luncheon together." Rhaella said kindly, and Diana kissed her husband's cheek as they separated.

Diana held Rhaegar in her arms the whole way from the Great Sept to the Red Keep, praying silently to herself that she might have a cub of her own on its way. Rhaella rode with her in her carriage, and commented on the grandeur of it, Diana had merely quipped, "If Tywin does anything, he does so to the best of his ability." Her sister gave her a suggestive look, and then glanced down at her stomach and they both laughed, it was the lightest she’d felt in a moon’s turn.

"I have missed you so, sweet sister." Rhaella said, grinning at her sister. They entered the Red Keep and went to luncheon in the gardens, both sisters' sets of handmaidens traveling with them. After they had eaten, Diana turned to her sister and asked if she would like to take a stroll around the gardens, alone. A Lannister and a Targaryen guard followed a respectful distance behind, while the handmaiden's chatted amongst themselves.

Rhaella kept looking over at her, as if she were waiting for Diana to reveal a secret to her. "What?" Diana asked, "You're looking at me as if I were about to hatch a dragon."

"Perhaps you are," Rhaella had responded with a smug smile, "Or a lion cub." Her hand motioned to her sister's chest, and Diana blushed. "You have always had a chest sister, but not the gods did not bless you that much. Mine swelled when I was pregnant with Rhaegar."

Rhaella seemed happier, now that she had a son to pour love into. She could survive her brother husband’s paws if it meant having children to love.

Diana smiled tightly, "My moon's blood is about a moon late, and I have trouble keeping breakfast down, but I haven't seen a Maester yet… I'm afraid." She blinked away tears, cursing herself for being so quick to cry as of late, yet another indicator of what she was scared to affirm to herself just to be wrong.

"Then we shall not take you to a Maester, come." Rhaella said brightly, and Diana furrowed her brow at her sister. They returned to the flock of women and Rhaella announced simply, "It's time for Prince Rhaegar to have his lunch, and I would like to show my sister the nursery. You all are dismissed for the afternoon." Her handmaidens looked to her for approval, and with a nod from Diana curtsied and left with a chorus of, "Princess, Lady Lannister" they were gone, except for the nursemaid who followed the princesses back into the keep.

Inside the baby's crib was a green dragon's egg, the size of the one that still burned at Diana's hearth in Casterly Rock. She smiled at the tradition, and followed her sister past the main room of the nursery and into a smaller nook with a comfortable chair that served as a private feeding room. Rhaella fed her son from her own breast, and turned to the nursemaid. This had surprised Diana, she knew that traditionally it was the nursemaid who fed a royal babe. "Alyce, this is my sister, Diana Lannister."

Alyce curtseyed to her, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lannister." She was a squat woman in her mid forties, with a hint of gray in her brown hair, but sharp blue eyes. Her eyes looked over Diana for a moment before asking, "If I may?"

Unsure of what she meant, Diana turned to her sister to see her nod encouragingly. "Go ahead." Diana breathed, and the woman pressed her hand to Diana's stomach, then her breasts.

"I'd say around two moons, maybe a little less. Any nausea? Sensitivity of the breasts? Perhaps strange cravings?" Alyce prodded, as if to confirm.

"I lose my breakfast more often than I break my fast, and my dresses all seem to chafe against my chest." Diana responded honestly, and could have wept when she saw the triumphant smile of the nursemaid. Her mind whirled back to the first night she crawled into Tywin’s bed after the loss of her child, it would have been about six and a half weeks before.

"You'll start showing soon, I've no doubt." Alice said, "Congratulations, my Lady."

Chapter Text

They stayed in the capital for only a fortnight, Tywin knew his wife wished for more time with her family, but the Blackfyre threat had to be extinguished. Should they prevail, the Nine Penny Kings would surely turn their eyes to Casterly Rock and his Valyrian wife once they had claimed King's Landing.

Tywin was overseeing the retinue, ensuring everything was prepared properly. In his saddlebag was the sealed letter from the king, commanding house Lannister to take down those who would dare challenge the might of house Targaryen. King Jaehaerys wished to fight them himself, but the man was weak and had allowed Lord Ormund Baratheon to command instead, allowing Lord Steffon to take in his father's military strategy.

Tywin knew it would not be long before his good brother was king, his wife did not have to mention a strange dream to make Tywin believe that the Iron Throne would never stand a weak ruler. Already, Jaeherys weak body had been hiding small cuts from the throne, which Diana knew only because her mother had been tending to the king herself, Queen Shaera was no healer but she would keep quiet.
Diana made her way to the carriage as Tywin swung himself onto his horse. Her gaggle of handmaidens was whispering amongst each other behind their palms, throwing him sideways glances as if to say, I know something you don't. It bothered the young lion, but he stubbornly refused to let his mask of indifference crack.

His wife held more sewing supplies in her hands, but the black silk and red string from before were gone, she was using a bolt of bright red cloth with golden thread now, the true colors of their house. Her silk form disappeared into the carriage, and Tywin did one more sweep of the courtyard from atop his horse before they were off again. The traveling was tiring, but it had to be done.

Every night when they stopped at an inn or made up camp, Tywin would pour over his battle plans, attempting to strategize against an enemy he had never fought before. When his candle ran short, he would climb under the mound of furs that hid his wife and sleep until it was time to wake at dawn, he would hold her flush against him, rationalizing it was for warmth and not because he enjoyed the softness of her body.

Every so often when they traveled, Tywin would slow his horse so that instead of leading the procession, he was in the middle where Diana was reclined in her carriage. She had been secretive of her latest sewing project, and Tywin had assumed she was working on new clothes for him, a shirt for him to wear when he was off at war perhaps, already his wardrobe sported a few doublets with prancing lions and hidden beneath the color, where his heart rested, a silver dragon.

Yet with the curtains pulled back, Tywin could just clearly see his wife, her brow furrowed in concentration, as she sewed a little dress with lions on the hem. He had to steady himself atop his horse as he realized who would wear such tiny clothes.

Tywin had learned after knowing Diana as his wife, that she was a woman who took great care in the planning of things. The woman could plan a feast down to the order of the bards, and she expected the order to be kept. It was what made her such an excellent Lady of the Rock, and why Tywin played that he was in the dark about his wife's state for the last week of their trip. Although that did little to stop his musings of a son with golden hair or a lilac eyed daughter.

When they finally made it to Casterly Rock, his father was waiting to throw a grand feast for their return. The man was a fool, they had been gone less than a moon and were returning only to leave for war. His whore sat upon his lap and was wearing the lion with a ruby in its mouth again, and Tywin wished for nothing more than to choke her with his mother's necklace.

When Tytos was handed the king's letter, he simply read it and smiled. "This is your chance son!" The fat lord gushed, "You, Kevan and Gerion shall make a name for yourselves in this war!" Gerion was but twelve, yet there was nothing stopping the boy once his father said he could squire for his brother during the war. Tytos would not partake in the war himself, he insisted that he was needed at Casterly Rock to rule the Westerlands, as if he were useful for anything other than drinking or whoring.

That night in his chambers he paced, he was to leave the next day, no time for rest. Diana was seated on his bed, a hand resting against her stomach. Her dresses were more flowing as of late, she was trying to hide the fact that she was beginning to show. "He sends his sons to do his work." Tywin snarled, "So he can stay safe in his castle and bed his mistress!"
Diana stood, walking to him and placing a hand on either side of his face to keep him from pacing further, "My love. This is your chance. Show Westeros the might of our house, let them hear you roar!" Her purple eyes were boring into his, the fire burning bright, nearly a maniacal glow. "Go and win this war, come back to me, come back to your children before they enter this world."

Tywin smiled then, pushing aside the thoughts of his father, "Children?" The relief to hear the words from her mouth, to confirm what he had suspected all along.

"I spoke with Maester Pycelle, I am only two moons along or so but…" Her hand grabbed his and pressed his palm to her belly, "I'm showing too much for a single child. Do you know that your house is known for twins? It skips a generation the Maesters say…" Diana was glowing, her smile radiant and her eyes full of light.

The feeling exchanged was palpable, so much neither had dared say before, of the fear of how long it took to conceive in the first place, of the babe they had lost, but now….

"Twins…" Tywin echoed, before matching her grin and ensnaring her lips in a searing kiss. "I shall bring you back Blackfyre heads to decorate the gates."

Diana laughed, "Come home to us, unharmed and that shall be a present enough." His wife's face seemed to darken for a moment, "But if I were to ask for something…"

Tywin was not one to give into the whims of a woman, but the hooded look she gave stirred his interest, "Yes?" He asked, with the news she just gave, he was ready to agree to anything without knowing what it was.

"The houses Tarbeck and Reyne, they must be dealt with." The finality in her voice surprised him, yet caught his attention nonetheless. "They have rebuilt their keeps using Lannister gold, yet we have not seen a copper of the loans back."

The Targaryens were known for their ruthlessness and were not ones to put with a slight, his wife was no exception. The two houses were getting out of hand, openly mocking his house. He heard the whispers about his wife, and had even had a tongue removed from a servant who dared to wag such words in his keep. "We shall deal with them together when I return."

It was to be his last night with her until the war was over and to know that he would return to his home to meet his heirs was the greatest parting gift she could have given. "Come, my love," Diana said softly, and they made their way to their bed. Her nimble fingers undressed him down to only his small clothes and tunic before she turned and lifted her hair so he might unlace her dress. When she was down to her shift, they crawled in bed together, and his hand fell onto the slight swell of her stomach, surprised at how much she was showing without layers of silk working to hide it.

"I like the name Alysanne for a girl." Diana murmured softly, her head cradled on his chest, "There have been Alysanne's in both our families."

Tywin smiled, "Alysanne Lannister." The name had a nice ring to it, "And for the next Lord of the Rock?"

Diana was silent for a moment as she pondered the question, "Tyrion, perhaps? Or maybe Tommen."

"They were Kings of the Rock." Tywin mused she had been reading up on his family history. "Jaime?" He asked after a moment, thinking it strange to pick out a child's name when it had yet to be born, but then again, he would not be there when that time came.

"Jaime and Alysanne." There was a softness to Diana's voice as she spoke, that reminded him of how his own mother said his name, the lilt of affection and love.

"May they inherit their mother's beauty." Tywin breathed, as the sound of his wife's breathing lulled him to sleep.

"And their father's wit." Diana murmured.

Chapter Text

Diana wandered the halls of Casterly Rock, it had been six moons, half a year since she saw her husband last. Tytos was not happy that any ravens with updates on the war were sent directly to her. The man had blubbered that war was no thing for a woman, let alone one heavy with what Pycelle had confirmed to be twins.

Diana only smiled and stated that he was the one who told the servants he was not to be disturbed when in his tower, the whore's tower, and she was simply easier to reach, the Lord and Lady's solars were right by the rookery for this reason. Her good father had not stepped into his solar since her husband left, and Diana was left handling the household with only Gemma to help. Little Tygett was only eight and did not understand why his brothers were gone and the guards were halved.

But Diana took this as an opportunity, to simper and play up her pregnancy before the guards, reminding them of how much her husband looked forward to her giving birth. With the servants, she slowly began to enact her plan, Tytos was always given unwatered wine, the servants avoided the tower in the name of privacy and any dress maker who wished to continue to earn a living would not service Megga.

Ser Addam had been one of the few soldiers left behind, and Diana had found out after her stunt in Lannisport with the orphans that the knight had been assigned to guard her personally by Tywin while they were at war. Little Tywin, or Tywin Surefoot as he had been nicknamed due to how he came into the Lannister's service as well as his advanced footwork for one so small, was a better page than most would have thought, and his feet had healed up nicely.

Ser Addam was happy to protect his Lady, and always let her know of any problems between the soldiers and the small folk. They were paid with enough Lannister gold to afford whores, and any non willing women were to report to her should an issue arise. Nothing had happened yet that she was aware of, but it was only a matter of time.

It was an hour before dawn, but the babes were restless and would not let her sleep. Diana wondered what Tywin would think if he saw her now, would he smile the true smile he saved for her and his siblings? Or would he thank her for doing her duty to their house and be repulsed by how big the normally lithe woman had gotten?

"My lady." Ser Addam had grown used to her being awake early, while his page would remain asleep for another few hours before he had a servant go to rouse him. "A group of ladies arrived late last night, they desire to meet with you to break fast and then go to the sept to pray for the outcome of the war."

"Which ladies?" Diana frowned, who arrives in the middle of the night without someone to greet them? Oh, she realized, women who wish to make up a slight in order to have something to embarrass her. She frowned severely as she summoned someone to help her dress, anything thicker than a shift was scorching for her currently but she had to keep up proper appearances.

"Lady Tarbeck, Lady Reyne, and their handmaidens," Addam said tentatively, and Diana's frown deepened, of course, it was them. The two were mother and daughter, but Lady Tarbeck held much power over her mother.

"Very well." Diana began with a sigh, her feet were swollen and she had no wish to deal with tittering ladies, but it was her duty. He excused himself to allow her dress and when she emerged she said with a sigh, "Let's head to the kitchens, then." Ser Addam only smiled at her, knowing that planning a small feast to break their fast was not the only reason Diana wished to visit the kitchens.

They walked for ten minutes in silence until the kitchen appeared, on the west side of the castle so that the ovens could vent out. The head cook, Jon saw the swish of crimson silk that cloaked his Lady and came forward with a small plate of strawberry tarts. "Good morning, Lady Lannister!"

Diana smiled brightly at the man and took an offered tart, her recent craving. "At this rate, my children will be strawberry blond." She quipped, earning the laughter of those surrounding them. "A few ladies have arrived, and we shall be breaking our fast in the small hall that faces the east if you could send up the proper food. I was thinking the normal: blackened bacon, sausage, biscuits and honey, fruit...strawberry tarts."

The large man burst into laughter, "Of course my lady! Enough strawberry tarts to last a decade." The entire castle was overjoyed with the prospect of the little lords or ladies to come.

"Wonderful, the meal will start an hour after dawn." Diana grinned to herself, if the shrews wished to slight her by arriving in the midst of night, then they could deal with a lack of sleep and sustenance from it.

The Lady of Lannister made sure to thank the servants once more before she returned to her rooms, the gown she had on, while lovely, was not the one she wished to wear when she saw the women, she decided to let them wait a bit longer.

Alyssa was reading a book by the table when Diana returned, "My lady, I never thought you to be one to rise so early."

Diana smiled at her, "The Maester claims walking will make my feet swell less, but I fear it may only make them swell more." She turned to her wardrobe, "Will you help me dress? We have visitors, so I must play the part."

When the children first started weighing on Diana, sitting for an hour as her hair was woven into elaborate styles no longer seemed worth the time, and she had been plaiting her waist length silver mane into a simple plait. But a display of power and wealth was needed here, for Diana had no doubt Lady Reyne would be wearing a fine gown commissioned with Lannister gold, sums they had no intention of repaying.

As Alyssa unlaced her gown, Diana thought of which gowns still fit her, and which had been specifically commissioned for her to wear while she was expecting. "Alyssa, will you grab the gown with the lion?" All of Diana's gowns were embroidered with lions and/or dragons, but her handmaiden did not need to think of which she referred to, only murmured, "Yes, my lady."

The gown was myrish lace, light and airy, with a pooling skirt that slowly faded to black, yet the bodice was crimson, and her large pregnancy bump was covered with a roaring lion, it was perfect. "Nina certainly has outdone herself," Alyssa commented, the dress had arrived with Ellinor when she visited her brother, and the child was proud to say that the pearls sewn onto the wrist length sleeves were sewn by her own hand.

"Yes, she has." The dress laced up with ease, a feat considering how much her measurements had been in flux as her stomach grew to accommodate the twins. Diana did not need to have a dream of herself holding her children the way she dreamed her sister had; she just felt it in her bones that she would be blessed with a son and a daughter, ever since her conversation with Tywin.

Diana sat before her vanity as Alyssa began to work on her hair. The lady had gentle hands and knew Diana, faults and all. But once the war was won, the Banefort Lord would be knighted, and return triumphantly to claim his bride. She would miss her childhood friend and would long for someone to be able to trust completely enough to tell her hopes, dreams, and fears.

Diana was so lost in thought, she did not even realize that Alyssa had finished her hair. It was the latest southern trend and framed her face well. "Thank you, Alyssa. Come, let us break our fast, Lady Reyne and Tarbeck were here."

If the Velaryon maiden had any qualms with it, she did not voice it, only followed her lady to the small hall she liked most out of the many within the Rock. Good, they were the first ones there. Diana seated herself at the head of the table, and Alyssa at her left. Servants had already dropped off flagons of spiced milk, cider, and water. A few serving maids filtered in and laid down more food before stepping into the shadows, ready to serve the meal once the guests arrived.

Twenty minutes past when they were invited, the ladies arrived. Lady Ellyn's gown was bedecked with so many precious gems of varying color, that Diana felt dizzy from looking at it too long. Her mother was dressed more modestly and it was clear who held the power. Ellyn resented Diana for taking her place, the woman was meant to wed Tytos's elder brother, yet tried to bed both heir and spare, and had been set aside when Lord Tion passed and his brother became the heir. Tytos married Jeyne Marbrand instead, and how their son was wed to a Targaryen princess, the first time the two lines had ever been crossed.

"So sorry, Lady Targaryen, we were ever so weary from our travels." Lady Ellyn cooed as if she were speaking to a child. Tyto’s whore had tried the same approach, to refer to her by her maiden name rather than her proper title. Her brown hair was spun up into an even more ridiculous style than her hair, and Diana ponders if the monstrosity is the reason she took so long getting ready.

"Times of war are tumultuous." Diana conceded, placing a palm against her belly and enjoying the spark of rage within the woman, "As Lady of the Westerlands, I am always happy to offer shelter to those whose keeps are unable to protect them." The silver-haired woman enjoyed watching both women gape for a moment, floundering to recover. Diana merely smiled at them and motioned the serving girls forward.

"I can assure you, my lady. Our husband's keeps are quite the defensive strongholds." Lady Tarbeck spoke up then, earning a glare from her daughter.

"Oh, I am sure." Diana said softly, "Reinforced with Lannister gold." Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Alyssa hide a smirk by biting into a bit of bacon.

"Your good father is very generous." Lady Ellyn responded tightly, "Just as his brother was before him."

Diana laughed lightly, "Of course, I had forgotten you were close to my good father's brother. Lord Tytos was speaking to me about it just the other day, actually." She paused for a moment, making sure she had their full attention, "He asked me to draft a letter asking when repayment may begin?"

The silence was deafening, and after a moment, Lady Ellyn merely said, "Shall we head to the sept to pray?"

The Valyrian beauty only smiled, they were in the lion's den now, whether they knew it or not. Tywin had promised to handle them upon his return but the slights against her personally would not remain as they were.

Chapter Text

Tywin was never close to his father's brother, his Uncle Jason Lannister. The man was a fourth son, and resided with his wife at her family's seat, but he was a seasoned warrior and led the charge when his brother chose to stay at home with his whore. This war had taken too many good men. Steffon was now a Lord Paramount himself, his father one of the first casualties of battle. 

There were many heirs on the field that day that became lords of their ancestral seats. Tywin cursed his father's cowardice, it was he who should have fallen instead of Jason. Diana was right, the Westerlands would know of the might of a roaring lion, whether his father wished for it or not. He would start with house Tarbeck, and strike fear into the heart of Lady Ellyn as her father's seat was brought to ruin, before he headed for her son's personally. 

Tywin knew that Diana was well loved by the household of the Rock, so it was not too hard to convince a select few of the staff to report to him should anyone attempt to get to him through his wife. He had heard of what transpired at the king's memorial, of how Lady Ellyn whispered of barren dragons. The woman even attempted to marry one of her daughters to Kevan, speaking of how their children would inherit the Westerlands when Diana failed to produce an heir.

How he would love to see the old witch’s face now, as Diana’s belly swelled with his children. It was what kept him fighting, kept him roaring, he would return to her, to their children.

The final battle was set to begin, Tywin in charge of the Lannister men after his Uncle's demise. Ser Gerold Hightower of the King's Guard led the final battle as the senior commander after Ormund's death. With a volley of arrows cascading down from the Blackfyre's, the cavalry charged on both sides. It was not Tywin's first battle, but he was determined to make it the last one he had to participate in, he was done with this war. 

He wanted to return home, to see his wife heavy with his children and see if her prediction of fraternal twins was true. Tywin had a bit of doubt, for this was set to be the final stand, and the Blackfyre king had yet to get anywhere near a King's Guard, as Diana had predicted. Those of the elite guild were flanking the crown prince, Aerys. 

While his wife held little love for her brother, Tywin had to admit the man could wield a weapon. They had fought side by side in this war, and Tywin had seen him cutt down soldier after soldier. The Valyrian was defending his claim to the throne, just as Tywin was fighting for his claim to remain heir of the West.

"Barristan!" Ser Gerold's voice cut across the mayhem of battle, and Tywin watched with wide eyes as the man in white armor rode forward, a direct line to where Maelys Blackfyre was reigning hell down with a mace. ' A man in white armor defeats Blackfyre' Diana's soft lilt had him staring, and he almost gets himself killed by gawking. 

Aerys was hacking down on a sellsword who had tried to earn glory by stabbing the young lion in the back. "Lannister, don't go green boy on me now!"

Before he has a chance to form a retort, cries of victory arise around them. Ser Barristan had carved a bloody path through the Golden Company and killed the last Blackfyre, crushing the resolve of his enemies. It was done, the war was won. Nearly six months of battling, plotting and marching, and he was going home.

Ser Gerold walked up to the crown prince and the heir to the Westerlands, "Kneel." He said solemnly, and the young men dipped their knees into the blood and dirt. "I, Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the King's Guard, do hereby knight you, Ser Aerys Targaryen, and you, Ser Tywin Lannister." 

The man’s greatsword dripped in Blackfyre blood as it tapped their shoulders, Tywin felt pride swell in his chest. Not even twenty name days and he was knighted by the head of the Kingsguard. His mind flashed to when he would ride into the Lion’s Mouth, shouts of “Ser Tywin!” and the sight of his wife waiting for him, absolutely glowing.

Chapter Text

Diana was unsure at first why the ladies of two keeps were at her home when they were supposed to be running their own. It was Megga, Tytos's whore who informed her rather smugly, that Tytos was speaking of fostering one of her children with the Reynes, once the child was off the breast. ' The girl, if you have one. Can't have the heir leaving the den too soon. Tytos seemed delighted at the idea' Her voice was snide and Diana was struck with such a fury that she only screamed at the woman to get out, let the whore have her moment of victory. 

Her breath was labored, her heart racing, and all she saw was red, she took out her parchment and quill, as well as a stack of opened letters. The ladies had stupidly thought to use the rookery, Pycelle had been in Tywin's pocket since the moment he had arrived, and had been informed to look to Diana for instruction in his absence. 

Lady Ellyn was a haughty writer, her large scrawl speaking of how she would be returning to her second son, the acting lord she wrote to soon, and spoke of the dragon bitch who was fat as a sow, much too large for a woman having a child.

Diana's anger was mounting with each word, the foolish woman did not realize Diana was having twins. Her hand shook as a pain flashed down her spine, but let her rage guide her. Smoothly, she copied the style of Lady Ellyn's handwriting, instructing her two daughters to be sent to Casterly Rock, so that Kevan might choose between them for a bride. Another rack of agony left her crying out, and the door to her solar opened once more.

 "Get out!" Diana screeched, her voice cracking. It was Alyssa, and her face paled at the sight of her Princess, quivering over her desk, dress stained with blood from the front of her waist. Her hand gripped the seal she had brought tightly.

"Will you stop plotting for a moment?" Alyssa asked accusingly, her fear giving her voice a hardness. "You are in labor, Diana, a bloody one at that!" It was still a few weeks until she was to term, but twins were known to come as early as they'd like.

Diana's eyes flashed again, and she handed her the letter, as she gripped the desk tightly with her other hand, grunting in pain. "Take her seal, send it on the fastest raven we have, and then tell the Ladies Tarbeck and Reyne that Lord Tytos offers them to travel by sea on his flagship this evening to their keeps." It would be slower by a day, but a display of wealth and generosity they would not refuse. "I want them gone before my children enter this world."

Alyssa nodded, hiding the documents in the sleeves of her dress before quickly hiding the real letters as well in her Lady's desk before shouting, "Guards! Fetch the Maester, Lady Lannister is in labor!"

The great Weirwood door opened to two house soldiers staring with wide eyes at the blood on her gown before one rushed forwards to carry her to her chambers while the other went to fetch Pycelle. Alyssa made quick work to braid her hair back and remove her blood-stained gown, leaving her only in her shift as the Maester bolted in and ushered her to the bed. "I shall be back, my lady," Alyssa said once Diana was settled, and the woman only nodded as her body flushed with the heat that only she seemed to feel.

A crack of thunder made her jump, "A storm is brewing, my lady. A fierce thing if one were on the seas, but nothing for you to worry about." Diana thought of Tywin, was he sailing in this storm, into another battle? Here, she was fighting her own in the birthing bed.

She screamed, the pain was getting worse and coming more and more often, Pycelle was peaking between her skirts more often than she would have liked, but was relieved to hear him say, "It's almost time, my lady." Alyssa reappeared at her side, taking her hand for Diana to squeeze harshly on as she was reminded to breathe. Diana could not even tell how long the handmaiden was gone for, but it was long enough for Diana to begin to push and her friend to tell her it would all be done soon, meaning more than just her labor pains.

Diana screamed until her voice was raw, and she was sure they could hear her clear to the Smoking Sea. "I see a head!" Pycelle called, and two nursemaids stood ready, one with a crimson cloth, and the other a black, to swaddle the infants and tell them apart should they both be the same gender. Rain pelted the windows, and with a mighty shriek, the next heir to the Westerlands was born. The sound of a babe's wail had Diana sagging in relief, but the urge to push came again, and before she knew it, a second scream joined the first and a black bundle and a red bundle was placed in each arm.

"Where is she?" A man's voice was arguing, growing closer and closer, now that Diana could hear something other than her own screams. She knew that voice and the one that matched it.

"Now son, calm down!" Tytos was trying to assure his son, "You'll see your heirs soon!" A crashing sound had Alyssa leaving her side to open the door, but all Diana could look at was the two babes with their faces scrunched as they realized they were no longer in the comfort of the womb. A little boy and a little girl, with wisps of hair more silver than gold.

"Tywin," Her relief was palpable, he had a healing scratch on his chin that would leave an attractive little scar, and he seemed to have aged five years in the time he had been gone, but he was here.

"Diana." He was searching her face, red with sweat and gown bloodied, holding his newborn children. Tywin rushed to her side and kissed her fevered brow.

"You made it just in time to meet…" Diana's voice trailed off, she was so tired. Her eyes fluttered until all she saw was black.

Distantly, she could swear she heard Tywin calling for her, but she simply did not have the strength to respond.

Chapter Text

Tywin returned to Casterly Rock just in time to hear his wife’s scream echo down the corridors. Tywin had faced death, he knew what it looked like and how to curl his lip and as the Bravosi man he had met said, ' not today.' He had never been afraid then, but standing next to his wife, his mind conjuring all of the parallels to his own mother's death in childbirth, Tywin found himself afraid. 

"Take the babes!" The voice of Alyssa Velaryon cut through his thoughts, pushing bundles of silk into his arms. Eyes of jade and lavender stared up at him in wonder, and Tywin felt a stab of guilt at the love he felt for the two responsible for his wife's current condition. He never got to see Diana big with child, and could only watch helplessly as Pycelle worked with bloody hands.

"Jaime and Alysanne Stormborn." Alyssa murmured, "Your son is also your eldest." Neither looked at each other, both staring with bated breath as Diana breathed in her sleep.

It was an eternity before Pycelle finally stood, "There was a close call, my lord, the after birth stuck, but we are out of the woods."

"She is half dead." Tywin ground out, glaring at the man who only smiled with amusement at how his voice was soft, as to not raise the ire of his children, who had been squawking a minute ago but were now hushed and breathing softly.

"A harsh birth, every woman battles in the birthing bed, the lady is merely exhausted, a week of bedrest and she shall be fine." Pycelle assured, "The babies both seem to be healthy, my lord."

Tywin stared down at his children, with their little tufts of silver hair. "Hello," He whispered, rocking them gently. Alysanne blinked at her father, purple eyes wide with wonder, and Tywin smiled at her, her eyes were a shade lighter than her mother's, but it was his nose she possessed. Jaime had closed his jade green eyes, the same as his own, and was snoring softly, his mother's lips present. They both showed the otherworldly Valyrian beauty, but Andal blood ran in their veins, his blood, his children.

Once the surrounding area was cleaned of blood, Tytos was ushered in by a serving maid. "I'm a grandfather!" He said more to himself than anyone, he reeked of rich wine.

Tywin revealed his children to his father with a hint of reluctance. "Father, we need to discuss the events of the war, and the future of house Lannister." 

"My boy, they are the future!" Tytos motioned to the newborns, "Why just today I agreed to have your little girl Fostered in Castamere!" Lightning flashed, and the sound hid his snarl of rage.

"My daughter is not an hour old, and you would send her into our enemy's home?" Tywin seethed. "Away from her own mother when she has barely brought her into this world?"

Tytos seemed almost blind to his son's rage, and chided, "Now son, it would not be for a year, and I thought you would be happy, this brings a new alliance for us!" It was not uncommon for children to be fostered, but they were usually at least six name days old, not a singular one.

"My children shall remain with their mother, and shall be raised as children of Casterly Rock. If I choose to foster my children, that is my decision to make, not yours." His tone was ice, and Tytos sputtered, "The Reynes and the Tarbecks are already being sent ravens to answer for their outstanding debts. I had them sent when I docked."

"My lord, if I may show you where Diana has set up the nursery." Alyssa cut in, and Tywin stared at her blankly. Diana was well aware of how his family held to tradition, and his children would be placed in the same nursery that he had, but her eyes held a hooded look so he merely agreed and followed her out of the room before his argument with his father could escalate further.

When they reached the nursery, Alyssa glanced around to ensure they were not followed before bolting the door. She sweeped the nursery in a slow circle, wary of ears pressed against a secret door. "My lord, Princess Diana was aware of Lady Ellyn's plotting."

"What?" His voice was a whip cracking, and the maiden flinched. Tywin quickly placed his children in their cradles so he could face her properly. No one would take his children, especially not the Tarbeck whore.

"The ladies arrived two days ago, Lady Ellyn slighting the Princess at every turn. My lady started screening her letters, practicing her handwriting and found out that Lady Ellyn had plotted to take Lady Alysanne as a hostage to ensure when Lord Tytos passed, their legacy would be secure. I have never seen her so enraged, my lord." Alyssa was pale with fear, "It sent her into labor, but she staved off the pain long enough to have me send a letter in Lady Ellyn's hand, instructing her daughters to make haste, only stopping to rest a few hours at a time, to come to the Rock, so that Lord Kevan might choose one as a bride. If she wished for my lady's child, Diana said she would take both her daughters."

Tywin grinned at the woman, absolutely feral. His pretty little wife was always plotting something, and Lady Reyne would never attempt to take Tywin's children if he had hers first. "Thank you, Lady Alyssa. Please ensure the nursemaids know to look after the children." Weariness weighed on his bones, and Alyssa simply curtsied as he walked down the hall, back to where Diana lay resting.

The Maester and his assistants had cleaned the blood, but she was still pale beyond belief. She murmured something softly and he rushed as quickly as he dared to her side. Her eyes were barely open, glassy from what must have been milk of the poppy, “And from the line of Jaeherys shall come the Prince that was Promised.” 

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, assuming it was a rambling of some half remembered dream or from the drugs. 

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

When Tywin rose at dawn, as he had every day for as long as he could remember, he dressed quickly. First, he made his way back to the nursery, and scooped his children into his arms, both barely fussing before falling back asleep. A servant curtsied to him and reported, "They sleep well, m’lord, and eat heartily." Tywin nodded at her and pushed the door back open to head to his wife's rooms.

The maester was already there, having been fetched by Lady Johanna, who had replaced Lady Chrysti after she was wed. The handmaid was by the door, and both watched his wife whisper something to Pycelle before he walked up to his lord. "Lord Tywin! Lady Diana is doing well, if you will excuse me, I have to get a few things from my stores."

"My love." It was something she had taken to calling him more often than not after the pregnancy. Diana's voice was weak, but her eyes were bright as she stared at their children in his arms. Tywin approached the bed, sitting on the edge and placing the swaddled children between them. "You made it back to us."

The use of plural had Tywin smiling at her, "Me? I fought a war, you gave me an heir and a little lady." Diana laughed, and he realized how much he missed the sound.

A servant brought in a light breakfast of honeyed bread, fruit and a few bits of bacon, and the new family spent the morning in quiet bliss. Diana enjoyed learning her husband was a knight and the way she purred, " Ser Tywin" made him wish to begin trying for another child sooner than later. 

Diana had just begun to tell him of the men that enlisted while he was gone, three hundred men being trained to replace part of the casualties he faced when a servant burst into the room, flustered and out of breath. "My lord! My lady!" He huffed. 

"Out with it." Tywin snapped, tempted to geld the boy for interrupting.

"Tywin?" Diana asked questioningly but stared at the boy. ' Oh,' he thought, ' so this is little Tywin Surefoot.' The boy was scrawny but seemed to be building muscle. "What is it?" His wife continued.

"It's Lord Tytos, he was climbing the steps to the tower." The boy huffed, "They say he collapsed and fell down the stairs!"

For a moment, Diana seemed about to smile, but quickly her face changed to a feigned shock, then a fake worry. No one else seemed to realize it was an act, but he had spent months picturing his wife’s face while at war, he knew when she was genuine and when she was playing a game. "Is he okay?"

The boy shook his head, "The maester is with him, my lady, but he did not have long." Diana nodded, and Tywin watched her kindly dismiss the boy with a smile and a thank you, blinking back false tears.

"I need to go make sure," Tywin said, but in his gut, he knew his father was dead. Yet he did not even make it to the door before Ser Marcus appeared, his face grave.

"Lord Lannister." He declared, and bent to one knee, "I hereby renew my vows to house Lannister, and it's Lord and Lady, Ser Tywin and Lady Diana." Diana's purple eyes flashed with triumph, and he knew what she had done, especially seeing the way she held her children tighter with the news.

"Thank you, Ser Marcus." Tywin spoke after a moment, "If I could have a moment with my family…" The room slowly cleared with a chorus of 'my lord's' and 'my lady's'. 

"Did you dream it, or did you poison him?" Tywin murmured, his voice tight. He knew his father was a drunken fool, an idiot who would waste away their fortune and let his own honor be tarnished alongside his sons. But he was his father, the only parent he had left. Being an orphan did not sting as much as he thought it would though, he wondered if it was because he now had children of his own.

Yet looking down at his newborn children, the thought of one of them plotting his demise was a crossbolt to the heart.

Diana stared at him for a moment, as if weighing the worth of the truth. "He was weak, and he was a fool. He would have taken my daughter from her cradle and fed her to the two-tailed lions, I would not allow him to do that, to bring our house further into ruin." Her voice was fierce, and Tywin saw the dragon within her rearing its head, the mix of madness and greatness. He had feared this, her protective nature for those she cared about. It was the same gleam that Tywin had when thinking of Diana, he knew the feeling all too well. 

"I want his whore stripped from her tower, and the bitch's daughters locked up there instead. Once their family is no more, I shall send them to the Silent Sister's as a personal thank you to the Stranger for accepting every last Reyne and Castamere on this earth. She wanted my children, Tywin, so I shall take her whole family." Diana snarled, her outburst causing the twins to begin to cry and without a second thought, she let down her chemise and began to feed them both, struggling for a moment before they latched.

Tywin stared at her, his wife pale from childbirth yet alight with fury. "You have given me two children, my lady, I shall give you two boons. The end of two houses."

"And the whore?" Diana challenged and Tywin felt his heart race, his fierce, little dragon truly had a thirst for vengeance he had never thought her capable of.

Tywin smiled at her, but his eyes were cold, "That, I shall do for myself."

Chapter Text

Three days after Diana brought the newest Lannisters into the world, the two youngest daughters of Lady Ellyn rode into the lion's mouth. Word had spread quickly of the death of Lord Tytos, and both women appeared garbed in black silks. They were no older than fifteen and thirteen, but had their mother's coloring and features, making it easier for Diana to harden her heart towards the girls. 

Diana was there to greet them, atop a large black mare that seemed more apt for war than a leisurely ride. A gift from Lord Stark, one that Diana had added the golden and red saddle that was a wedding gift from Lord Tyrell. From the height of her horse, Diana looked coldly at the maidens before her, and revelled slightly in the spooked looks.

 She was clad in a fine midnight fabric, golden lions snarling at her sleeves and hem, tiny rubies for eyes made it seem as though they were glaring at whoever looked upon them. With her corset so tight she had to remember to breathe with short, even breaths, Diana's figure had barely widened at the hips from childbirth, the pain, even while riding side saddle, was crippling. Her hair was flowing behind her, a thin golden circlet on her head, making her appear regal while also adding volume, resembling a lion's silver mane.

"Rohanne, Cyrelle," Diana cooed their names, watching them shiver, "You're just in time."

"For what, my lady?" The elder of the two asked. But Diana only smiled at her and waited.

"I've been reading into the history of my house." Diana spoke, "Your mother is a fan of slights, did you know that? Each of you is named after Lannister ladies who died right before you were born, or a few years prior." The guards that escorted the maidens looked antsy but did not dare draw their swords just yet, fearful of disrespecting their host before bread and salt were given.

The two stayed silent, so Diana continued, "Lady Ellyn has decided to take a Lannister for her own, she wished to wed one of you to my good brothers, and take my daughter from her crib."

Rohanne was pale, while her sister looked about to cry. "What our mother plots, she uses us for pawns." The elder reasoned, her eyes wide with fright, she was clearly trying to prove her innocence, as if she were not of Tarbeck blood. "We had nothing to do with anything. Surely, Lord Tytos saw that."

Diana wanted to laugh, but restrained, the girl was truly a fool to think he held the power. "My good father met the Stranger two days ago." Her black-gloved hand rose then, a signal. "And soon, so shall your escort." Her wrist dropped, and a volley of arrows pierced the ten men escort easily. One of the girls actually shrieked, blood spraying across her face, hidden on her black gown.

From her saddle bag, Diana produced a letter with the Tarbeck seal. "Your house, as well as your mother's house, have declared rebellion against the Lannisters. They demand your return, so I shall respond accordingly." A Lannister soldier stepped forward, and Diana thrust the letter into the torch he held up, her fist in the flames. "Seize them."

Soldiers stepped forward and grabbed the girls, forcing them to their knees. "I am a follower of the Seven, so do not believe me to be without mercy." Diana smiled, hearing a sound draw near, a wail. "We all must atone for our sins, and we all must give the gods their due, be grateful for my loving husband’s mercy but wary of a lion’s teeth."

Megga the whore appeared, tears streaking down her face as her hands sought to cover her nudity. A sign was hanging from her neck, " MAIDEN FORGIVE ME, MOTHER PROTECT ME" Tywin appeared behind the set of men dragging the sobbing woman, something glittering in his hands.

A stable boy walked forward with the male version of her own horse and a matching saddle. Tywin mounted his steed and rode up next to her, "My lady, the jewels of the Lady of the Rock are being moved to your chambers." His smirk grew as he leaned forward on his mount, presenting the crown jewel, the necklace with the ruby in the snarling lion's mouth, over Diana’s swan-like neck.  He was in his element, practically pulsing with power, it made her shiver. "Shall we?"

Diana would remember this day until her last, the first time she felt truly powerful, riding next to Tywin as they made their way into Lannisport, his father's whore weeping behind them as she did her walk of atonement to the docks. They kept a faster pace than the whore, allowing the people to cheer for the arrival of their lord and lady, and jeer at the whore of Casterly Rock. There were whispers of surprise of course, though they were subdued at the announcement of the new heirs to the Westerlands.

The ruby hung heavy, but the satisfied smile never left her face. She was the Lady of Casterly Rock, her husband the Lord Paramount, and the people were cheering for it.

Diana stared at her husband, watching him bask in the power he had brought them and the love the people had for them that she had earned for them both. It was just as she had planned, he was the sword and she the shield.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

After her display of dominance, it was not hard to have Rhoelle and Cyrelle write to their mother what she told them, that they were in the lion's den, and were to dance with the stranger if their families did not step down. The response had been swift, “they were lions of a different coat, but with claws just as sharp.”

 So Diana allowed Tywin to do as he wished before she convinced him to give them a chance to surrender. He rallied the men of Lannisport and gathered a host of five hundred men, half of whom had been kept at the Rock for household guards, making them eager for blood and glory after being denied it in the war of Nine Penny Kings. 

She sat in the nursery, the twins sleeping soundly, bellies full, and she was happy to have the milk gone from her breasts, like her sister, she chose to feed her own babes. A knock sounded on the door, and a grim-faced soldier told her simply, "It's been done my lady."

"Thank you, Ser." Diana said simply, tasting the irony that a man knighted would commit such an act. She was handed a medium sized box of plain wood, latched shut, and headed down to the Lion's mouth. It was the day after her good father's funeral, his bloated body had stunk from sitting in the sept for seven days, and it made Diana feel slightly better than her grandfather was not presented to the seven kingdoms in that way. 

With the official mourning period over, Tywin was eager to deliver his boon to Diana, a Lannister always pays his debts, after all.

He was riding the same horse as before, although with a less ornate saddle. She held up the box, and Tywin smiled tightly at her, "It had to be done, Diana." She knew it did, but the thought of it disturbed her, would she dream now, of the sight she chose not to bear witness to?

"Bring me her head to decorate the gates." Diana murmured, giving her husband a searing kiss when he leaned down enough for her to reach, she couldn’t stop the request from tumbling from her mouth, she craved the sight of her revenge placed before her.

"It would be my pleasure, my lady," Tywin said, and she watched him ride off with crimson lion banners waving.

Chapter Text

Tywin rode his men at a quick pace, not allowing the Tarbecks to see them coming. The lord of the Westerlands had sent out ravens to every house that owed money to him, demanding a return of the entire sum, or a hostage to be sent with a payment plan in hand. Dorna Swyft had been heard to be making her way to the Rock, due to his demands. At twenty, Tywin Lannister was the second most powerful man in the seven kingdom.

He was Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Lord of Casterly Rock, Defender of the West, they would hear him roar. 

Tarbeck Hall was upon them two days after they had set out, and Tywin ordered the siege engines to be brought forward, and then rode a half score away from his men with a few guards, white flag of parley raised. Lady Ellyn and her husband, Lord Walderaen rode out in impressive time. The lady showed no fear, but her lord was pale and shaking.

 "A gift." Tywin spoke, and a squire ran the box he had brought to Lady Ellyn, quickly running back to his lord before she opened the lid. Tywin smirked at the shriek of horror the woman let out. Two tongues sat in the box, pink and bloody, with a parchment pinned to the lid, " THE STRANGER HAS NO NEED FOR WORDS"

"My wife has a hatred of wagging tongues." Ellyn stared at him, her denial of whose tongues had been taken slowly dissipating, "It seems your daughters take after their mother that way." Lord Walderaen turned his ashen face to the side, and the smell of bile filled the area as he lost his breakfast into the grass beside them.

"You have openly rebelled against your liege lord, and for that your entire house stands accused of treason." Tywin projected his voice, ensuring he was heard, "For that, I shall show no mercy. But my Lady wife is of a gentle heart, and has pleaded that I allow only the men and women to be put to the sword, allowing the children to live, should you surrender right here and now."

Sword and shield, Diana had reconciled. Let him show no mercy while she, with her bright heart, gave it willingly. He did not mind if people painted him a monster, he would not take the slights his father unknowingly had him endure, a new era had begun. And a Lannister always paid their debts, to the Tarbecks and the Reynes he owed a mighty sum.

Perhaps it was rage that blinded her, but Lady Ellyn spat at him. "A coat of red, or a goat of gold, a lion still has it's claws." She moved to turn her horse back to her keep, and Tywin merely shrugged. Diana could not say he did not try, and neither could the mummers who would no doubt turn this spectacle into a play. 

"Blast the gate." Tywin said to his brother, Kevan. The second son rode to where the siege engines were being placed, and no sooner had the lord and lady closed their gates, Kevan gave the order to blow it down.

Tywin's men charged the castle, and put anyone who was not a Lannister soldier to the sword, Ser Lorch even going to the kennels to put every last dog down. Lady Ellyn's head was found amidst the rubble, she had tried to send a raven to her brothers, but the rookery tower collapsed with the weight from the boulder that took down the gates. Her body was crushed from the waist down, but her head was etched in a look of horror that Tywin looked forward to seeing on a pike. He wondered if Diana would enjoy it too.

They butchered every last man, woman and child in the castle, before looting for gold and valuables. A few men rounded up the livestock, and as every last animal was roasted over a spit, Tywin ordered the castle burnt to the ground, a nod to his wife's house words. The Tarbecks and the Reynes would know fire and blood.

He took great care in ensuring word spread quickly, after the soldiers ate their fill, he sent out servants with what was left of the butchered animals, giving them out to the petrified small folk, as well as sending out Bards who sang warnings to all, the other bannermen should fear the same fate.

The men rested and feasted overnight and rode towards Castamere next. It was a day or so's ride, but the flame of Tarbeck Hall burning could be seen for miles, so Tywin expected little resistance from the house. His host had doubled a day before they reached Castamere, Lord Banefort and Lord Brax had sent men. 

When they arrived, there was not a soul in sight, they broke the gates down and searched the keep. Where was everyone?

 "Search the mines!" Tywin barked, and was led to where the main entrance was. A score of Reyne soldiers blocked the entrance, they thought he would not risk funneling his men into a slaughter, nevermind the numbers he had gathered, by sending them down the thin tunnels of the mines. A letter with terms of surrender was given to the Lord of Lannister, stating that the Reyne's would be loyal vassals and wished for Kevan and Gerion to stay at Castamere as an act of good faith. The man was so proud that he thought he could make demands, take his brothers for hostages? Make a farce of the tongues that had already been cut?

"Tell your lord he either sacrifices every man to my swords, or you shall all die this night." Tywin replied, ripping the letter in half. With the soldiers returning to the mines, Tywin ordered his men to begin distributing caches of wildfire within the keep, and pick and shovel close every entrance they could find to the mines.

When a response was not given by sundown, Tywin ordered them to begin damming the nearby river, funneling it directly into the mines. It took two days, but slowly, the water reached the mines and the screaming began. The men around him seemed haunted by the wails of the dying, but Tywin knew it would make a statement for years to come. By dawn, there was only silence, and Tywin ordered the keep to be burned, and rode towards home with the heat of wildfire at his back.

Fire and Blood. Hear me roar.

Chapter Text

"And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp, my Lord, as long and sharp as yours. And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere, but now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear. I am the lion of the Rock, the mighty Tywin claimed, with a lady divine at his side, only a golden coat could take the flames, with fire and blood, Lord Tywin roared, and the Stranger came that day. And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere, but now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear." The Bard's voice was ominous at the end, and those gathered at the feast to welcome home the victorious paled at the song, but not Diana. 

She had organized the feast herself, wishing to show her prowess at Lady of the Rock, and it was a chance to introduce her children to those present while also warning them of what would happen should they attempt to cross house Lannister. It was a grand feast, furnished with animals taken as recompense from the Reynes and Tarbecks, whose heads adorned the Lion’s Mouth that all had to pass through to gain entrance to Casterly Rock. Diana had stared until her stomach stopped lurching, reminding herself that this was what she wanted…wasn’t it? 

Because it was their first feast as Lord and Lady of the house Lannister, it was a large audience, including the lords of the vassal houses and her family. Her father had sent her brother and sister in his stead, and Diana relished in seeing her sister. Rhaella was holding Rhaegar, a babe just old enough to sit up on his own and babble nonsensical words, on her right hand. 

Tywin was to her left, and to his left sat her brother, Aerys. The war had leaned him out, and he was proud of his new knighthood. "Aerys wants another child." Rhaella said softly, "A queen for his son."

Diana took a sip of wine to allow her time to think on her sister's words. "There are not many dragons left in the world, not after Summerhall." It was an unspoken rule that no one should speak of the tragedy, and her words earned a harsh glare. 

"I am aware of my duty." Rhaella hissed, yet the weight of her tiara seemed to hang heavy on her brow. "Congratulations on fulfilling yours." There was a hint of envy in her voice that did not escape Diana's notice. House Targaryen was the only house to wed brother to sister. Cousins were a common practice across the realm to consolidate power, however. 

The twins were happily fussing in a bassinet brought down to the Hall of Heroes, Alysanne in a lovely crimson gown and Jaime in a little surcoat with a lion. Their faces held Valyrian looks, but Jaime held the green eyes and his hair had slowly turned the golden color of his father, while Alysanne had lavender eyes and silver hair with a hint of gold.

"Where is the Lady Johanna?" Aerys's voice cut through the room like a knife, drawing both of his sisters' attention. Rhaella paled slightly and Diana fisted her hands beneath the table.

"Lady Johanna served as my handmaiden for a while once she returned from King's Landing," Diana began, "And I was able to arrange a marriage for her with Prince Mors of the house Martell, he has been given lands in Dorne and needed a lady wife for his keep." Rhaella had tapped her shoulder on that one, speaking of how their father had recently gifted the area around Summerhall to the Dornish Prince after he won a tourney, his champion's purse enough to build a modest keep on the lands. 

The Lannisters had no previous relations with Dorne, and the prince had sent a letter to her once the lands were formally in his name. Diana had been expecting an offer of betrothal, as it was Rhaella who introduced the prince and Lannister maiden in an effort to keep the crown prince away from the blond.

Aerys looked enraged for a moment, but seemed to point his rage at his wife. Sensing the tension, Rhaegar began to cry, and Rhaella seized the opportunity to flee to the nursery. "Perhaps my father wed me to the wrong sister, our line can barely produce an heir, and here Diana has given you an heir and a bargaining chip."

Tywin's eyes flashed, and Diana's hand gripped his, although it was clear from her pinched expression that her mask of a perfect lady was slipping. "The Seven have blessed my lord husband and I, as they shall surely bless you and your bride." The Lady of Lannister said coldly, "An heir is a blessing, and there are many beautiful maidens from noble families that will be honored to be Rhaegar's queen one day."

"Commoners, with weak blood." Aerys spat, drawing a few eyes his way, "The blood of the dragon must remain pure, not tainted with Andal or First Men. The dragon bows to no one."

It was a phrase often said by Targaryens, by both mad and great, yet Aerys looked a fool when he spoke it. Diana pinned him with a steely glare, "A dragon will only yield to a more powerful one, let us pray Rhaegar grows strong." She knew had meant to slight her, to mock her for bedding a lion but she would not yield. The recurring dream of her atop the Iron Throne with a lion at her feed flooded her memory once more.

In the years to come, Aerys would obsess over his sister's words, of the dragon with a lion's mane who would dare threaten his throne. Perhaps that was how the descent of madness began, with a step towards vengeance for a perceived threat.

Chapter Text

Tywin was a man of battle, and enjoyed showing his strength in that fashion, but the ways of the South required him to celebrate once the war was won, and relish in the power displayed. His pretty little wife was much better suited to mind games and feasts than he, all he saw was coin being spent to allow his visitors to be gluttons.

"The seven have surely blessed you, Lord Lannister." Lord Ethan Marbrand spoke, sipping a glass of sweet wine that stunk up his breath, "Little Lady Alysanne has her mother's beauty, and Valyrian coloring. Such a pretty child shall flower into a lovely bride one day."

Tywin resisted the urge to grit his teeth, "Indeed, a bride of the Rock worthy of a Lord Paramount." Or a prince, should Princess Rhaella fail to produce a daughter, "But that is years away, and my Lady wife and I have agreed to wait until our children are out of the nursery to speak of betrothals." Tywin knew that it would make him seem as though Diana had him by cock, but it was a strategic move. By allowing the children to grow older before cementing their fates, the Lannisters could wait to see which noble families produce children near Jaime and Alysanne's age, as well as to see who would approach them for betrothals first.

He was willing to allow his children to have spouses younger than them, depending on rank, of course. After all, house Baratheon, Tully and Tyrell all were expecting.

Lord Marbrand seemed to understand the message Tywin hinted at, his daughter would not be wed into a minor house. A Marbrand bride however… "Lord Ethan, you've a younger sister, correct?"

The lord perked up, "Yes, Lady Darlessa, she is recently flowered and a beauty to behold." Tywin knew he had to award the Lord for sending men to deal with the Reynes and the Tarbecks, as the other lord has recently wed a Velaryon bride.

"Perhaps she would like to serve as my wife's handmaiden for a time, get to know my brother Tygett." Tywin offered, it seemed as though Diana went through her handmaiden's like water, quick to marry off those she is not fond of to houses of equal standing, while those who she liked remained slightly longer, and were wed into a higher house. It was a revolving door of about six moons to a year, and Tywin had given up on learning their names, and simply addressed them as a unit: my ladies. The only one he still knew the name of was Lady Alyssa Velaryon, but she was to be wed on the morrow to one of his bannermen, yet another reason for the large gathering.

"Of course, my lord!" The eager head of house Marbrand replied, "I shall inform her that she shall stay behind when my people return to Ashemark at the end of the week that she shall be staying, and send a raven to have her things prepared right away!" His simpering was annoying Tywin, but he hid it with a long drink of his wine and a curt nod. It was late into the night, and his Lady wife had already returned to their chambers for the evening, having danced for a good hour after the feast had ended.

She was a sight to behold, spinning in silks of gold, silver hair flying about. He had led her out for a dance or two and then enjoyed her schemes as she danced with hedge knights and lords alike before returning for the evening, as any proper lady would.

But Tywin remained as his countrymen got deeper and deeper into their cups, for it led to loose tongues. Prince Aerys was drunk and laughing with a servant maid, and Tywin made a mental note to ensure that the girl had moon tea slipped in her breakfast. He would not tolerate a Blackfyre in his home, intentional or otherwise. Further down the table, his brothers sat, Kevan beating Tygett by a hair in an arm wrestling match. Tywin watched with a hint of amusement as Kevan got cocky and used too much of his strength at once, and Tygett slammed his brother's palm to the table. "Ha!" Tygett shouted, "That'll be twenty dragons."

"Have you heard?" Lord Steffon asked him suddenly, sitting down at the empty seat Diana occupied during the feast. "There's a new heir to Winterfell."

"Yes," Tywin commented, "Lady Diana brought me the letter, Brandon Stark was born a moon ago." It seemed all the great houses were competing for heirs and daughters to marry to another lord's heirs, he had heard Minisa Tully nee Whent was expecting as well.

"Diana seems to be happy as a mother." The informality he used with his wife's name made him grit his teeth, but it was her cousin, after all. "As children, my Father visited court often, Diana always wished to be Good Queen Alysanne, Prince Aerys insisted on being Aegon the Conqueror." 

"She was the one to name our daughter." Tywin conceded, smiling at the image of his wife as a child playing "Come into my Castle" with her cousins and siblings.

"Any offers for her hand yet?" Steffon asked with a laugh, Baratheon blue eyes shining, "Or perhaps for little Lord Jaime? After your stunt with the Tarbecks, everyone wishes to be in House Lannister's good graces." 

It was not a stunt, it was an act of war. "A few, but they are years away from wedding." Twin responded flippantly, he had stopped bothering to respond to betrothal requests for his children. His siblings were in need of weddings, and blood cements alliances. "Have you seen Lord Redwyne?"

"Sorry, Lord Tywin, his daughter Olenna has already become Lady Tyrell. She's a bit old for you, is she not? Her son is older than you!" Steffon told him, reaching towards a jug of wine. Tywin would give the man that, he could hold his liquor.

"Yet he was recently widowed, was he not?" Tywin pondered, "A summer wife who died of a winter chill?" Winter had not even been heralded yet, only autumn. 

"Something like that." Steffon replied, "I think it was a fever, burned right through her. They were wed less than a moon, so there was no love lost there."

"Good," Tywin stated, "I plan to wed Gemma to him." With the Redwynes sharing blood with the Lannisters, it would bring the Reach closer to the Westerlands, as the Tyrell's would share Redwyne blood as well. Not to mention the lowered tariffs they would be able to implement on goods received between the Arbor and Lannisport, now that Arbor Gold had stopped freely flowing into the Westerlands, they would be seeking revenue from the West in a different manner.

"A wise move, Lord Lannister." The Baratheon raised his glass, "May Lady Gemma give him many red-haired, green eyed sons.” 

Tywin sipped his wine in response, saying nothing. In his mind was a map of Westeros and how to best play the game of thrones, beginning with a new ally in the Reach.

Chapter Text

Two year time jump next chapter, so here’s a list of important characters and their ages/location
As of 262 AC:
The Royal Family:
Seat: King's Landing, Dragonstone
King Jaehaerys the Second, King of the Seven Kingdoms, called a weak king, age 36,
Silver of hair, purple of eye
Queen Shaera, Queen Consort, wife and sister to Jaehaerys, age 38
Silver of hair, purple of eye
Crown Prince Aerys, husband and brother of Rhaella, age 22
Silver of hair, purple of eye
Princess Rhaella, wife and sister of Aerys, age 21
Silver of hair, purple of eye
Prince Rhaegar, son and heir to Aerys and Rhaella, age 3
Silver of hair, purple of eye
The Westerlands:
The Lannisters of Casterly Rock:
Tywin, Lord of the Westerlands, called the young lion, age 22
Blonde of hair, green of eye
Diana, formerly of house Targaryen, Lady of the Westerlands, called Lady Brightheart and Lady Divine, age 20
Silver of hair, purple of eye
Jaime, heir to the Westerlands and Casterly Rock, age 2 ½ years
Pale blond of hair, green of eye
Alysanne, a Lady of house Lannister, age 2 1/2 years
SIlver of hair, purple of eye
Kevan, second born son of Tytos and Steward of the Rock, age 19
Blond of hair, green of eye
Gemma, betrothed to Lord Paxter Redwyne, age 17
Blond of hair, green of eye
Tygett, third born son of Tytos, age 15
Blond of hair, green of eye
Gerion, fourth born son of Tytos, age 8
Blonde of hair, green of eye
House Banefort of Banefort:
Quenten, Lord of Banefort, married to Alyssa of Valeryon, age 24
Black of hair, brown of eye
Minor houses/small folk:
Tywin, called Tywin Surefoot, orphaned, age 11
Brown of hair, blue of eye
Ellinor, apprentice to Nina the Seamstress, age 9
Brown of hair, blue of eye
Nina, a Seamstress in Lannisport, age 28
Brown of hair, brown of eye
The Reach:
House Tyrell of Highgarden:
Luthor, Lord of the Reach, age 54
Brown of hair, brown of eye
Olenna, formerly of house Redwyne, Lady of the Reach, age 46
Brown of hair, blue of eye
Mace, heir to the Reach, age 22
Brown of hair, blue of eye
House Redwyne of the Arbor:
Paxter, Lord of the Arbor, aged 22
Red of hair, blue of eye
{Mina Tyrell}, Lady of the Arbor, died at 17
Brown of hair, brown of eye
The Riverlands:
House Tully of Riverrun:
Hoster, Lord of the Reach, age 24
Red of hair, blue of eye
*Minisa, formerly of house Whent, Lady of Riverrun, age 23
Pale blond of hair, blue of eye
*Pregnant with heir to the riverlands
The North:
Rickard, Lord of the North, age 25
Black of hair, grey of eye
*Lyarra, a cousin of Rickard's, age 22
Black of hair, brown of eye
Brandon, heir to the North, age 2 ½
Black of hair, grey of eye
*Pregnant with a second child
Dorne:
Elia, Princess of Dorne, age 20
Brown of hair, hazel of eye
Mors, Prince of Dorne and Lord of *Fire Field, age 19
Brown of hair, brown of eye
**Johanna, formerly of a minor branch house Lannister, Lady of Fire Field, age 19
Blonde of hair, green of eye
*Fire Field is what I'm calling the remains of Summerhall, Mors has been given the land and is building a keep on the opposite side of the ruins of Summerhall.
**Pregnant with the heir to Fire fall
The Vale:
House Arryn:
Jon, Lord of the Eyrie, age 30
Brown of hair, blue of eye
Jeyne, formerly of house Royce, Lady of the Eyrie, age 24
Brown of hair, brown of eye
The Stormlands:
Steffon, Lord of Storm's End, age 23
Black of hair, blue of eye
Cassana, formerly of house Estermont, age 21
Black of hair, blue of eye
Robert, heir of Storm's end, age 1 moon

Chapter Text

Diana had not seen winter since she was a child, yet autumn had left them and winter began on her children's first name day, when a small feast was interrupted by the white raven. The former princess had begun to request a small stock pile of warm children's clothing from Nina and her apprentice, Ellinor, ever fearful her small children would catch a chill and grow sick. 

Her father was not well, and winter had done him no favors, the more moons passed the less letters she received from her father, and the more she received from her sister. Rhaella had given birth to a stillborn daughter, and had miscarriages before and after. She asked Diana to bend the Mother's ear for her, and joked that it seemed they both were too close with the Stranger. 

She never gave any confirmation of this, but it haunted her at night. Diana never quite agreed to removing the tongues of the Reyne girls, but the message her husband sent was in her name. Whispers had spread, of how the Lady of Lannister had taken the Stranger into her bed, both in her husband and in sending the girl's to the Silent Sisters, who married the Stranger, as per the custom of that order.. Tywin was cruel when he felt he had to be, and the smallfolk whispered the Stranger had blessed him for sending so many souls to him.

Diana hated that it thrilled her slightly, how the Seven Kingdoms feared her Lord husband. It was why she had married him after all, that and the dreams. She had fought them, ever since the dream of Summerhall, of watching flesh melt from bone and seeing the agony of her grandparents as they died brutally. Even now, as the land was given to the son of the Martells and building had begun, the scent of burning clung to her nostrils. It wasn’t until she dreamed of two suns in the sky did she finally give into her dreams, embracing the warmth they gave her.

It took two years for winter to end, a short one compared to many, but they still prayed for a longer summer. As the chills began to lessen and the heat began to return, Diana started on her latest project: a week-long festival of the Seven. It was tradition to begin spring with worship and devotion, a day for each of the divine. Day one was for the Stranger, thanking him for passing over them during the winter. Diana had commissioned a new dress for each day, and wore a black silk gown with golden lions at the hem on the day of the Stranger.

She took great care that while the feast was grand, it was a soft start to the week, lest rumors spread further of the family’s connection to the grave god.

Tywin smiled down at her as they headed to the Hall of Heroes, clad in black and gold as well. Diana held in each of her hands one of her children's own, the twins toddling along. Alysanne stopped suddenly, and put her fists up expectantly as she stared at her father, "Up!" Her red silk dress had enough volume at the bottom to make her appear as though she were half tulle.

Tywin stared at his daughter with amusement for a moment, "Yes, my lady?" The child simply repeated the lone word, "Up!" He smiled, and lifted the child into his arms, only to hear his son call out, "Up!"

Both parents laughed, and Diana picked up her son, ruffling his blond hair, "Aren't we demanding, my Lord?" She teased her son, eyes bright. When Diana had forged her betrothal, she had never imagined how it would feel to be where she was now. Sure, she knew she would have children with her lord husband, but she never thought of the warmth that would come with it. The love that Diana held for her children was fierce, and just as strong for her husband. 

She still dreamed of the lion at the foot of the Iron throne, yet no longer clung so fiercely to it. Diana had thought contentment would come with a crown, yet found it in a hallway of Casterly Rock, walking with her husband and their children, and seeing the way he looked at her, as if she held his heart in her hands.

The dream of the two suns flashed in her mind again, she would tell him on the day of the Father, during the last dance of the night, she decided.

Chapter Text

Tywin would never speak it aloud, but he cursed Ellyn Reyne and her shoddy attempts at playing the game of thrones with a hint of personal vengeance. His wife was barely two moons pregnant when he left her, and returned to see her half dead from giving birth; he was never able to see her swell with child, or furiously embroider little outfits. 

So when he found her sewing little socks and a coat too small for a toddler, he was overjoyed. "My moons blood is late." Her flippant tone hid the smile upon her face, the air of certainty she carried was palpable. For three nights, Tywin had watched her refuse a second glass of wine at the feasts of the Stranger, Crone and Smith, now he knew for certain why she lowered her level of alcohol consumption.

"I was thinking I would see Pycelle tomorrow, before the feast. When he confirms what I believe, the night of the Father would be the perfect time to announce it to the realm." His lovely wife claimed, her eyes bright. She had wanted to tell him then but couldn’t hold it in any longer.  He crossed the room and knelt by the hearth where she sat, and placed a palm to her barely swollen belly.

"Jaime and Alyssane will be excited." Tywin murmured, staring down at her midriff.

"And you?" Diana asked, taking his hand in her own. There was a hint of fear in her voice, as if she were unsure of his reaction.

He kissed her fiercely. "I am pleased." Tywin said in a nonchalant tone, enjoying the tinkling of her laughter. He did not wish to leave her, not when she had announced such big news, but the feast was to start soon. The young lion did not hold as much stock in the Seven as others did, but tradition was a useful thing. 

Tonight would be the feast of the Maiden, and unmarried girls from across the Westerlands had flocked to the feast, hoping to catch the eye of a young lord or his heir. Those unwed girls spent the morning in prayer, the afternoon gossiping and weaving flower crowns, each becoming their own Queen of Love and Beauty. Diana was amongst them, and had a crown of red fire flowers and baby's breath waiting to be worn, with a matching single stem for him to pin to his doublet. 

Tradition held that the women would choose who to honor with their favor, and with winter over at last, spring was a time of betrothals, announced the next morning as they broke their fasts in honor of the Mother. Those already betrothed whose family's had stipulated they would be wed once winter was over would be joined together by a Septon on the day of the Father. 

This was why the last feast was the grandest, it was a celebration of many things. This Father's Day feast would celebrate Gemma marrying Paxter Redwyne, and his sister had made her betrothed a lovely boutonniere of purple flowers, bunched together to mimic his sigil of a branch of grapes, or so Diana had told him.

He was simply happy that Gemma fancied her soon-to-be husband, rather than a lowly Frey who was unworthy of her. The connection to another powerful family helped as well.

A knock sounded on the door, and Gwen Dayne entered the chambers. "My lady, you asked that I come to help you prepare an hour before the feast." Had they truly spent two hours before the hearth, speaking and working on the house's finances? Tywin shook his head and stood, grabbing his ornament as he went.

"I shall leave you to it then, ladies." He needed a proper shave himself, and knew that Diana would take as long as she pleased to preen herself before entering the feast, knowing fully well that they would wait for her as Lady of the House.

Tywin left his wife's solar to enter his own chambers, changing into a finer outfit for the feast. It seemed as though Diana had commissioned him a new outfit for every day of the festival, always matching hers just so. Not so much that they looked like children dressed to mimic each other, but enough of the same pattern or color to show the world they worked as one. 

Tywin was a strong lord, and had proven himself in war and in the wealth his house accrued, but no one would see weakness in his wife either. She was no simpering maid, but a dragon in her own right. Diana forged alliances with smiles and well timed gifts. The raven of Robert Baratheon's birth had only just arrived, yet a rider with lavish gifts for the babe had been dispensed a week prior, arriving on the day of the babe's birth.

Tywin made quick work, shaving his beard and changing into better clothing. He was ready before his wife, who had yet to appear from her rooms. So he made his way into the nursery, to ensure the children were ready. At such a young age, they usually were only present for a few courses, and then returned to the nursery for the night with their nurses. Soon, a new babe would be joining them, Tywin thought with a smile.

Alysanne was dressed in a golden dress the same color as his doublet, while Jaime was in a miniature version of his own outfit. The nurses were fussing over the children, but quickly bowed when they saw their lord. Tywin ignored the women and scooped his children in his arms.

"If I may, my lord." A nurse asked, in her hands lay a flower crown about the size of his daughter's head, Dianna surely thought of everything. With a nod, Alysanne was crowned.

"My Queen of Love and Beauty." Tywin said softly to his daughter, watching her chubby hands reach up to stroke the flower on his chest and give a toothy grin to her father.

"I thought that was my title, lord husband." Dianna teased, wearing a crown of her own. She was swathed in a scarlet gown, golden flowers blooming from her feet to her waist, across her entire skirt.

"I would crown you both, and it seems there are enough flowers for everyone." Tywin replied dryly, and earned a laugh from his wife.

"The Maiden is a fan of flowers, it seems." Diana japed, "As are most maidens." Tywin allowed her to carry their daughter as they made their way to the feast. In the hall, Gemma and Paxter were already seated, and his sister beamed as she subtly pointed out her betrothed flower pinned chest to Diana, who smiled in encouragement. His wife had been counseling her good sister on how to facilitate a warmer relationship with her betrothed, and it seemed to be working.

Everything was falling into place nicely, in two days, his sister would be the lady of her own keep, and his brother Kevan was wooing Dorna Swyft quite nicely, he would forgive the debts of the Swyft family at their wedding breakfast, he decided, it was not as if they would afford that and a proper dowry, anyways.

Chapter Text

The feast of the Mother was Diana's favorite night of the festival. She wore a bright white dress with silver accents of myrish lace, practically floating through the Hall of Heroes. Before the feast began, Tywin stood up and offered her his hand, and he guided her from her seat, gathering the attention of their guests.

"My lords and ladies, I thank you for honoring these halls with your presence, the gods have surely been with us this week." Her husband paused as a few shouts of agreement and claps rang through the room, "Tonight is the feast of the Mother, and she has surely smiled upon us tonight, for I am happy to announce my wife, the Lady Diana, is expecting our third child."

They had gone back and forth each night on when to announce it after Pycelle confirmed the news, Diana sought to honor her husband, who insisted it be her triumph. So they announced it the night of the Mother, as she herself was blessed with becoming one to another child.

The roar was deafening, and Diana preened at the attention. Throughout the feast, nobles would approach the couple at the head table and offer congratulations to the couple. The news also allowed her to slip away early without losing face, taking her children to put to bed personally. There were two nurses to help care for the children, but Diana did not want her children to remember comfort coming from a servant, and not their parents. Growing up, scraped knees and lullabies were all handled by Ella, an elderly servant in King's Landing.

Her mother was a lovely woman, but Shaera treated her children with indifference, maternal instincts simply were not present. Perhaps it was the lack of motherly affection that made Diana coddle her children so. Although, Alysanne had her father wrapped around her finger at not even three name days. The girl would never end up betrothed at the rate she was going, no man would ever be good enough to Tywin for his little girl, no alliance worth losing her. Gemma was to be wed tomorrow, and Diana had prayed to the Mother all morning that she find the happiness that Diana had found with the Lannister Lord.

Paxter Redwyne was a fine match, and seemed to love to make others laugh, while also knowing when to be serious. They would leave in a few days, Gemma wedded and bedded, officially deemed Lady Redwyne. Lady Olenna did not seem too happy about it, hoping the lord of the Arbor would wed another Tyrell cousin and seal their alliance further, but he could not seem to look at any woman of the family without pain in his eyes, seeing his dead wife. It was not love, but it could have been, and the loss stung.

Diana slept that night and dreamed of a great many things, of her sister praying to the Mother, begging for her blessing as she had the other great houses, her brother sitting atop the Iron Throne, looking as old and bitter as a man aged before his time, screaming of fire and blood, her father, leaving his crown behind to walk up the statue of the Stranger, and disappear into the stone.

She broke her fast in private, her children playing at her feet in her solar. A small leather bound journal in her hand, she recorded her latest dream, trying to make sense of it. Rhaella was praying for a child, that much was clear. House Stark, Lannister, Baratheon and Tully had sent letters of heirs or expected ones within the past few moons; winter left many couples warming beds.

But her father and brother, what could they be doing have meant? Her father, there was an easy explanation, but one she would not consider. Rhaella's letters spoke of how the king had been ill more often than not, heavy is the brow of he who wears the crown.

The door of the solar swooshed open, and only one person would enter without knocking. Tywin's face was grave, his hand holding a letter with a three headed dragon stamped into the wax. "Diana…" She was not sure what he expected as a reaction from her, but his voice betrayed what he could not bring himself to say.

"Long live the king." Her voice croaked, and she began to weep. Tywin hushed her cries, stroking her hair. She did not break as much as she did with the tragedy of Summerhall but he was still her father, absent in her life though he may have been compared to her grandfather.

"It's not good for the babe, my love." Tywin murmured, "We shall wait another day, once Gemma has been wed and the festival has come to an end. Queen Rhaella sent the fastest raven in King's Landing, she wanted you to hear the news first hand."

Diana allowed herself a moment to cry before she took a shuddering breath and slowed her breathing. The children were already appearing fussy at seeing their mother distressed, and Jaime looked about to cry. She was the king's sister now, no longer a child of the king. Her father ruled for three good years, and the crown killed him for it.

She wondered then if that was why her dreams had centered on the Iron Throne as of late, Diana made a silent note to herself to only record her dreams in High Valyrian from that point on, to keep them from prying eyes who would scream treason.

Chapter Text

Tywin never knew his good father well, he saw him as the heir to the throne and then the man to sit upon it, so his death was more of a headache over travel to Tywin than anything. He had wed his sister to the Lord of the Arbor, and announced that he and any nobles present who wished to follow in his retinue were leaving in two days time for King's Landing, to pay their respects to King Jaehaerys and swear fealty to King Aerys.

 In those two weeks of travel, Tywin watched his wife grieve from the comfort of her carriage, her eyes revealing less signs of tears by the day. The children traveled with her, and her handmaiden's followed in a separate coach. They had missed the funeral by about a week, but the coronation was not until two days after they arrived.

 Queen Rhaella greeted them graciously, Prince Rhaegar even giving a clumsy bow. The toddler looked as much like his mother as Alysanne did Diana, the Valyrian blood strong in their veins. He would grow to be a handsome man, Tywin had no doubts.

The King had requested that they dine alone that night, allowing the sisters to catch up. Aerys was already wearing his crown, that of Aegon the Unworthy, a gaudy thing emblazoned with dragons wrought with gold and precious gems. He had employed a taster, it seemed, yet made no comment to point out the minor cuts in his food. "Lord Tywin." The King began, "My father bid me marry my sister Rhaella, as he wed his own sister, yet our line has yielded only one living son." Tywin had heard the rumors, multiple miscarriages, a stillborn daughter. Diana did not say much on the matter but the grave expression on her face when reading her sister’s letters told him all that he needed to know.

"Prince Rhaegar shall be a fine heir, your grace." Tywin offered, allowing the man to lead the conversation as he drank a glass of wine.

"Yet he shall need a bride, one of Valyrian blood." King Aerys claimed, "Your Alysanne has inherited her mother's looks, she shall be a beautiful maiden in a few short years. I'd make you my Hand and your daughter a princess, and one day a Queen."

Tywin was expecting a betrothal, it was only a matter of time before his good brother gave up on his hopes for a daughter, but to make him Hand? That he was not expecting. He did not think any man would be worthy of his daughter, but she was worthy of a crown ten times over. "I would be honored, my King." They toasted to their plans and began to eat.

Absently, he wondered how Diana would take it, would she enjoy returning to her childhood home or wish to remain at the Rock with their children? She would enjoy the power he held, surely, if nothing else.

The venison stew was spiced perfectly, and mixed with the buttered bread and arbor gold, a gift from his other good brother. "They say all the great houses are blessed, the day of the Mother yielded ravens from every kingdom, ladies soon to be mothers, yet my sister has failed me." Aerys complained, "My father and grandfather were fools to believe the wood's witch about his children and prophecies. The Prince who was promised and the rebirth of dragons, ha!"

"I never held stock in witches, your grace. They will spin webs to catch you like spiders." Tywin responded, but was curious, "What did she tell them, anyways?" Perhaps it was the same woman who his wife cursed in her sleep. He took the bait Aerys offered.

"That the Prince who was promised would be born of Jaeherys’s children." The King started to eat his bread, tearing it into chunks with his fingers, "And that a dragon would only be born when the Andal Divine bled Valyrian blood for the First men."

"What a foolish woman." Tywin remarked, but made a mental note to look further into the exact wording of such a prophecy, especially knowing the surprise that shook the kingdom when Diana was not named Dyanna, the usual Valerian spelling. 

He did not believe in fates or prophecies, but they tended to be self fulfilling. Besides, they rattled his wife often enough for him to keep an eye on such things.

Chapter Text

The doors slammed open, and Tywin looked up from the letter he was drafting, "I was planning to tell you after you broke your fast." His tone was demure, and infuriated her more. He had planned? It was not a discussion they would have, it would be him telling her what was to be done. She crossed the room and the echo of her palm meeting his cheek was deafening.

"You promised me!" Her voice was snarling, and tears began to fall, but Diana did not care a whit, she would blame her swollen belly, blame her emotions on the babe. Not her scheming husband, who enjoyed the power of being Lord Paramount of the Westerlands but sought more power yet. "We would wait until the children were old enough to be out of the nursery before they were betrothed! We would know our children, know enough of their likes and dislikes to give them happy marriages, not just throwing them into a marriage bed for the sake of an alliance!" 

The irony was not lost on her that she was betrothed to him the day after they met, save for the few times they had seen each other as children. But it was she who arranged it, with the blessing of the King, not her father selling her to the highest lord available. Her hand went to strike him again, but Tywin caught her wrist. "Your brother is the king, and my friend-"

Diana would not let him finish, "Your friend? You played Aemon the Dragon knight a few times in the yard as children, and suddenly he is your friend? Or perhaps he became your friend when you were knighted together, surely you both wet your cocks together afterwards as well." The many bastards born on the route home from the war did not escape her, she would be lying if she had not searched for green eyes or blond hair amongst them, despite herself.

Tywin stared at her coldly, and for a second she worried she had gone too far in her fury. "My father shamed my house and disrespected my mother's memory with whores, do you think I would shame you that way?" His grip tightened where he still held her wrist, yet the moment she flinched from the action his hand fell to his side. She shouldn’t have struck a wound that was not healed but for her daughter, she would do anything. "King Aerys trusts few people, he was closer to Steffon because they shared blood, but now I am his good brother, and the trust of a king is a rare thing. We do not have to exchange letters weekly the way you and your sister do, in order to have an understanding of what friendship is."

"I hope his friendship is worth selling our only daughter like cattle." Diana bit back, "What if Alysanne does not wish to marry Rhaegar? Would you force her to marry a cousin she barely knows as soon as she flowers?" The thought of a twelve name day girl entering Baelor’s Sept with a Lion cloak haunted her.

Tywin sighed, irritation flashing in his eyes, "They shall not be strangers, they shall grow up together, as Hand of the King, she would know King's Landing from the Tower of the Hand. I thought it would please you, to be able to spend more time with Queen Rhaella."

She laughed then, cold and unfeeling, "Spend more time with the Queen? Watch her pray to the Mother and the Maiden every day so she may have what I possess? You have not seen the way she looks at me, Tywin! The more the baby shows in my womb, the more bleak her eyes become, and you would have me stay here and birth and raise my children while my sister looks on? It is a cruel trick on Aerys' part, but that you would agree without my consult?" 

Aerys had stared at her queerly as well, a strange glint of hunger in his eyes, whether for her or the babe, she did not know. Either way, she had no desire to raise her children here, to bear the slights of those who saw her not as a Princess any longer but the wife of the Hand. Diana was his Lady Wife, but she was a Princess of Fire and Blood. 

"Then go to Casterly Rock." Tywin replied, "Return when the babe is able to travel." His eyes were hooded, but matched hers in the pain shown. He knew how much his words hurt her, of the fragile love and trust they had built withering before them. 

She had snarled at the lion, who hard revealed sharp teeth of his own. 

"I have lost two good men to this court." Diana said after a pregnant pause, "I shall not lose my husband as well. You might think this is the right decision but remember, when the king shits, the Hand wipes.” Her lips curled back into a snarl, she had no desire to see her husband belittle himself to appease a king, especially not her brother. 

The dream of a lion in front of the woman on the Iron Throne crossed her mind yet again and for a moment she wondered if she had dreamed of herself…or Alysanne.

Chapter Text

Tywin knew his wife would be displeased, but he had not expected her to hold true to her family's words, she rained down fire and blood upon him. She barely spoke to her over the next moon, and stared at his hand pin with disdain over tense dinners. Still, as their child grew within her, she became more and more radiant.

He watched her, when time permitted, as she cared for their children and sewed diligently, little doublets and dresses, unsure of which their new child would wear. She was pregnant with just one, this time, it seemed. But she still whispered sweetly to her stomach and did not venture far from the Tower of the Hand.

The Hand of the King spent his days in small council meetings, finding Aerys to be a capable leader, despite his wife's fears. The king had managed to negotiate a larger portion of fruit and grain from the Reach for a minimal reduction in taxes, allowing their stores to refill after the recent winter. Lord Redwyne had increased the amount of Arbor Gold wine in the capital almost two fold, a gesture of goodwill towards the king's recent coronation, and to earn his good brother's praise in hopes of a seat on the small council. A Tully was already Master of Ships, and a Redwyne had been coveting the position ever since.

"Any news from your birds, Varys?" Aerys asked the newest member of the council. Varys was an interesting man, a eunuch who simpered more than he spoke, but more often than not, his words rang true. Varys did not need dragon dreams when he had little birds to whisper to him.

"A raven arrived from Lord Baratheon, it seems his bride has gotten with child again." Varys stated neutrally, "While Minisa Tully has given Lord Hoster a daughter, Catelyn. Lord Rickard has also written of a second son, Eddard."

Tywin watched the rage flash in Aerys' eyes, but the king only nodded. His cousin, Johanna, had also had a son, who they named Jason after her father. He held his tongue with that information, knowing how the king had vied for the Queen's handmaiden a few years ago. "Send the appropriate gifts then." Tywin spoke, waving a dismissive hand. The day had been long, and he wished to return to his wife and eat dinner in their chambers, just them and their children in the Tower of the Hand.

He knew better than to approach the topic, Aerys was a just ruler, but as a man his pride was wounded over the lack of another living child. Tywin did not need Varys to tell him of the stillbirths and heavy moon bloods the Queen experienced. Diana had been visiting her sister less and less as she herself grew larger with their child, it pained Rhaella to see her that way, they all knew. 

With the council dismissed, Tywin was about to leave when he noticed the king had not moved. The room cleared out, and when they were alone Aerys spoke, "Rhaella carried a child for three moons, a son this time." His voice was cold, "She told no one she was with child, a servant found her in a bed of blood, I have confined her to her quarters, no visitors for now."

Tywin was silent for a moment, "As you wish, your grace." The Hand stood from his seat, "It would be best if this information was kept quiet, your grace."

"No one is to know, not even Lady Diana." Aerys commanded, his violet eyes hard. He stood then too, and moved to leave the room. Tywin followed him with his eyes, and watched the pieces on the board move in his mind, the game of thrones was a complex one.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Diana found her dreams were stronger when she was with child, perhaps it was because Valyrian blood ran in their veins as well. " A Dragon is worth more than two commoners, your grace." She had dreamed herself saying the words for three nights in a row, sees her hands outstretched, her red dragon egg being offered. 

Diana does not know who she is speaking to, but the lilt of panic of her voice is palpable, her reluctance to call the two she spoke of commoners has her falter slightly. Who is she speaking to, and about whom? In her dream, there is only darkness, save for the green fire and the bright red egg, glowing hot.

Her hand falls to her stomach, she feels like a fat house cat rather than a lady lion, the Maester claims her child would come into the world any way. Diana hopes to dream of her child, but all she ever hears is herself speaking of dragons and commoners. Would Tywin let her give the child another Valaryian name, like Visenya? Or would he insist on a Lannister name, like Lancel? As if reading her thoughts, the babe kicks.

The Tower of the Hand has a lovely view from the top floor, but Diana finds it isolated. She has not spoken to her sister in weeks, the Queen was avoiding her and she, her. The pain that etched into Rhaella's face when she thought no one was looking broke Diana's heart. Barristan Selmy, a recent installation to the King's Guard, stood before the Queen's door and tried to carefully craft an excuse of why her sister was unavailable whenever Diana tried to see her. After a third failed attempt, and an even more pitiful excuse, Diana stopped trying.

Diana's rage at her husband had lulled over the months they had spent in King's Landing, mainly because every night he insisted on sharing her chambers, sleeping with his palm pressed firmly to her ever growing stomach, accepting every kick of their child as if it were a rare gift.

She hated that this was enough for her, to be with him every night, even though was always up and gone before the sun rose, leaving her waking to a long cold bed.

The twins enjoyed the gardens, and the lavish name day presents that the court had presented them with for their second year of life. It would be time to write for a Septa for Alysanne soon, though Diana was loath to have a woman whose sole purpose was to ensure her daughter become a proper lady and follower of the Seven. Diana had shared a Septa with her sister, a woman named Septa Lizette, a stern woman who made embroidery sound like the most important thing a Lady could ever learn. 

Sure, her stitches were straight and small, but she had a seamstress for things she did not have time to make on her own. Septa Lizette had given her lessons in the form of parables from the Seven, and Diana retold them to her own children, and to the orphans she passed goods out to, finding it kept her in good standing with the High Septon and the Faith.

She stood from her desk in her solar, it was a floor below her husband's in the Tower of the Hand, and gasped when the front of her gown was suddenly soaked. Water trickled down her legs and onto the floor, and a contraction had her gasping for breath. "G-guards!" Her voice was shaking slightly, it was time to meet her child.

Chapter Text

Tywin held his newborn son, his wife asleep from exhaustion in the bed beside him. Swaddled in red and black silks, a silver tuft of hair was barely visible, as fine as feathers. "Daemon." Tywin murmured to the newborn, who opened his eyes at his name. The green of his father's, but with specks of violet as well. A perfect mix of Lannister and Targaryen, so they chose a name from both their houses, Damon the Grey and Daemon the Rouge.

A soft knock sounded on the door to his wife's chambers, and he bid them enter softly. He expected a handmaiden or a servant, but was faced with Ser Barristan and the Queen. "Your grace." He stood and bowed as best he could with a babe in his arms.

"I just wished to see how my sister fared." Her smile was tight, and Tywin knew she was only there because the court would whisper if she did not visit at least once. The Hand of the King knew well that the Queen had been avoiding her sister. He had been told from Aerys and Diana both.

"Labor is hard on any woman, your grace. But Diana needs only rest." Tywin replied, and watched the pain flicker in her eyes as she stared at the bundle in his arms.

"May I?" She took the babe from him, and melancholy filled her features, "He's beautiful, just as Rhaegar was. You must be very pleased my lord, my sister has given you an heir, a princess, and now a spare to continue your family legacy."

Tywin was unsure of how to respond, and Ser Barristan stood mutely next to his Queen, an apologetic look on his face. It was strange, just how similar and yet different the sisters appeared, even that fateful day they arrived at Casterly Rock. Rhaella was a frail beauty, willowy and thin, where Diana had a curve to her, a fierce, passionate, beauty.

 "The Seven smile upon us all in their own way." He found himself using a line his wife spoke when visiting small folk, it felt foreign on his tongue. Tywin could not fathom the roles being reversed, if Rhaella were his wife and Diana his queen. Diana would have murdered Aerys in his sleep after securing a son, he had no doubt.

"Indeed, my lord." Rhaella said stoically, "My husband and I shall be traveling to Dragonstone for a moon, he trusts you shall keep the seven kingdoms running until he returns?" The news was a surprise to Tywin, but Aerys seemed to wish for an heir more strongly with each bloody miscarriage his sister-wife endured. Perhaps the solace of the island will do them both good.

"As you wish, my Queen." Tywin responded, and took his son back into his arms. It was not until the door closed behind her that he realized the Queen never asked for her nephew's name, she had only smiled longly down at him. Perhaps wishing Daemon were her own child to bestoy a name to.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Diana knew what she was meant to do as Lady of the Westerlands, she was all but the Queen of that kingdom, but as the wife of the Hand of the King? She was supposed to look pretty at feasts and greet guests and courtiers in her sister's absence, but outside of that she did nothing. She was repeatedly told she already did far more than the previous Hands’ wives ever did. It was infuriating.

Diana doted on her children and waited for her husband to come back to the tower. Some days she took the children to the gardens, but the ladies of the court loved to whisper behind their hands and coo at her children as if their rank allowed them familiarity. As if she were not a Targaryen Princess as well as the Hand’s wife.

So she avoided them all together, sneaking the babes and nursemaids into the Godswood. She held no faith in the Old Gods, but enjoyed the serenity and the fact that no one ever looked for her there, in fact, no one ever came there in general. There was a wilted winter rose in the corner, one that she wondered if Lord Stark had left after her brother’s coronation.

She fed Daemon from her breast as the twins played near the roots of the grand tree, it was not a Weirwood tree, Diana noticed, but grand all the same. "Day!" Jaime said with a smile, coming towards his little brother.

Diana smiled, "Yes Jaime, his name is Daemon." She knew he was still struggling with his little brother's name, but his mother found it adorable. A little hand tugged at her braid, and Alysanne pouted from the lack of attention.

"Mama!" Her voice held the lilt of a musical voice, she was growing to resemble her mother more every day.

"Yes, little lady?" Diana asked, glancing over at her. Jaime continued to entertain Daemon as he suckled, waving his little fists as the babe followed with his eyes.

"Cake!" The toddler stomped her slippered foot for extra effect.

"Alysanne, ask nicely." Diana replied, "Mama, may I have a honey cake?" The two-year-old only stomped her foot yet again, making Diana frown.

"Cake?" Jaime asked, turning to Daniella, the nursemaid, to see if she held any in her basket. "Can I has cake?"

Diana laughed, "Yes, Jaime, because you asked nicely." She looked at Alysanne, who looked about to either cry or throw a tantrum. With Daemon done feeding, she covered and adjusted herself and her dress, before lifting the babe onto her shoulder to burp, waving away the maid who moved to take him from her. This, at least, was something she could do.

"Cake!" Alysanne commanded, glaring at her brother who was being handed a honey cake. Daniella only repeated what her mother had told the girl, "Ask nicely, Lady Alysanne."

The child began to throw a fit, demanding cake and stomping her feet, drawing muck onto the hem of her dress and all over her shoes. Diana only sighed, and passed her son reluctantly to the nursemaid before promptly walking up to her daughter and giving her three good swats on her bottom. "You are a lady, Alysanne, a lioness of Lannister, and a lioness does not throw tantrums."

Alysanne began to cry in earnest for a moment, before her mother fetched a honey cake and presented it to her, "What do you say?"

"Can I has a cake, mama?" A tearful voice asked, and was rewarded with the treat.

Diana was pleased to be able to spend so much personal time with her children, especially at such a young age, but wife of the Hand was unfulfilling. Casterly Rock was without a Lady once again, while Kevan served as acting lord and Castellan, and she missed the Westerlands more than she thought she would.

Home was where she ruled, King’s Landing was not home any longer.

Chapter Text

Tywin knew the line: "the King shits and the Hand wipes," yet found it less funny by the day. He had been Hand of the King for almost two years, and the sentiment was slowly becoming more and more true. King Aerys was a good king his first year on the throne, he attended small council meetings daily, even praying in the Great Sept of Baelor a few times a week for the small folk to see. 

Yet when he and his sister-wife went to Dragonstone and returned eight moons later, far longer than planned, something had changed. Queen Rhaella was four moons pregnant, her smile filled with such relief. His king had confided in Tywin that he worried that the stress from court had caused Rhaella to be unable to carry a child, and wanted to remain in Dragonstone until the child was born, but Rhaella wished to return to court, to prove herself in their eyes.

Diana seemed happy for her sister, but the two still did not speak. Little Daemon's stock of silver hair had stuck, and the envy in Rhaella's eyes never dissipated, even as she was pregnant with a second child. Prince Rhaegar was almost six name days, and had begun to learn the harp. His finger's had yet to accustom themselves fully to the grace the instrument required, but he was showing promise. Perhaps Tywin should enroll Alysanne into singing lessons, or was that something a Septa would teach? Womanly arts were a loss to the Hand of the King.

Tywin was drawn out of his thoughts as Aerys spoke before the small council, "We shall need to appoint a new Grand Maester soon. Maester Gormon has fallen ill. I am told he shall not last a fortnight."

"I shall write to the Citadel." Tywin replied, making a mental note to put forth Pycelle's name as well as a good amount of gold. "We should also-" The lord of Lannister was interrupted by a swift knock, and a servant entering.

"My king, the queen is in labor!" The boy said hurriedly, out of breath and panting.

Aerys broke into a grin, "Lead me to my lady wife, then." The king turned to the rest of his council, "You are all dismissed, Tywin, come with me."

The two men set off, Ser Hightower and a Lannister guard following a few steps behind. They entered the maidenvault, where the Queen's screams of pain echoed. A few plush chairs had been set just outside the door, so that the King and Hand may sit comfortably, with a table with wine and meat between them. Tywin poured them each a glass, "A toast, your grace, to a new prince or princess."

The goblets clinked, and the men drank. Hours passed, and Aerys became more restless by the moment. Rhaella's screams were becoming more pain infused, and at last a voice called, "One more push, your grace, I see a head!" One long screech filled the air, and then silence.

There was no sound for a moment, then a heartbroken wail pierced the room, that of the Queen. A Maester appeared from the room, and his face told Tywin all he needed to know.

"I am sorry, your grace. A stillborn boy." Tywin watched something snap in Aerys, and the chair the King sat in was knocked over in a fit of rage. He stormed down the hall, not turning back.

"And the Queen?" Tywin asked quietly, once the King had left their sight. He had been on pins and needles the two times Diana had labored, yet Aerys was at ease until the news of a birth, or lack thereof.

"I have stopped the bleeding, and given a few moons rest, she should be able to try again physically, but mentally…." The Maester trailed off, and Tywin walked into the birthing chamber. Rhaella held a child with a tuft of silver hair, blue in the face.

She wept and would not give up the child, as if her love alone could bring him back. Tywin made sure to keep both Diana and the children, especially little Daemon, far from the maidenvault and the King and Queen after that.

Chapter Text

Tywin did not wish to see his Lady wife return to his ancestral seat, while he stayed in the cesspit that was King's Landing. But there was a fire in Diana that seemed to fade the longer she remained in the Tower of the Hand, nothing to do but raise his children and deal with two-faced courtiers. The twins needed to be raised in Casterly Rock, as true Lannisters, while the babe was too small to be away from his mother. So he sent them away, back to where they should have all been, together, all along.

Tywin kept to his duties, but missed the sound of laughter as his wife played with his children after dinner, and sleeping with a warm body next to him. Through letters, he learned of Daemon's first steps, of Kevan's betrothal being finalized, and of how much Diana missed him. 

He kept her letters apart from the others he received as Hand, locked in a private trunk. There are a plethora of seals on the other letters, Minisa Tully has given Hoster another daughter, Lysa, while Lyarra Stark has a baby named Lyanna, even Cassana Baratheon has given birth to a second son, Stannis, the prior year. He waits until the end of the small council meetings to notify them of such letters, for Aerys's rage at his wife's lack of fertility leaves him too enraged to continue. Still, the kingdom runs smoothly with or without a second child of the royal family.

He thinks of his own children, and ponders Hoster Tully's two daughters, perhaps if he does not have a son, Daemon can be betrothed to his eldest, Catelyn, and inherit Riverrun. Diana would be furious, so perhaps such things can wait, there is always an heiress in every generation, and a modest keep for a second son is nothing to look down upon, despite his greed and pride telling him Daemon deserves so much more than that.

He's set to sail in the afternoon, three days on The Lady Divine, a ship commissioned by Tywin a year or so back, to attend his brother's wedding to Lady Dorna Swyft. It appeased his bannermen to see one of their own daughter's marrying into his house, especially one who owed them coin. It soothed out any remaining tension, and was a good match for his brother.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/**/*/*/*

Tywin had not seen his family for six moons, and he had never realized how much children changed in that time. Daemon was over a year old, and toddled towards him, yet seemed unsure of him as he stayed by his mother's skirts. "Father!" His four name day old twins shouted in unison, crashing into his legs before he was fully down the walk plank from the ship. Diana smiled at him, and there was a light in her eyes that had been dulled in King's Landing, relit again.

He spent the night in his old rooms, memorizing every line and curve of his wife's body, worshiping her the way he never did the Seven. The next afternoon they walked into the Sept within Casterly Rock to witness his brother's marriage. It was not as luxurious as his own wedding some years before, but it held ten courses of fine food, and a Bard had traveled from Pentos to sing for them.

The tourney was held the third day Tywin was in the West, and held a mystery knight amongst its ranks. His armor was new, a polished silver set with a helmet covering his face, and a shield with a golden foot on a black field. He rode a black dustier, heartier than most horses, that caught Tywin's attention. "Is that one of Dark sister's foals?" He asked his wife, speaking of the wedding present Rickard Stark had given them, a fine mare Diana named Dark sister, after her family's female ancestral sword. They had bred both horses a few years back, his mount, Bright Roar, had hefted quite a stud fee.

His wife grinned, "Seven hells," She looked around, and made eye contact with a visiting noble in fine silks, who was recording bets on a parchment, "Fifty gold dragons on the mystery knight!"

"Diana…" Tywin scolded, but smiled at the way she seemed to look at him with mischief in her eyes. Perhaps it was another of her frivolous dreams, her sharp intuition. Either way, he would empty the vaults for that sort of smile. 

The tilts went through round after round, hedge knights and second sons falling to more experienced riders. The final four came down to Gregor Clegane, the mystery knight, Gerion Lannister and a hedge knight, from a minor branch of house Brax.

Gerion fell to the hedge knight, while Ser Gregor narrowly lost to the mystery knight. The hedge knight was announced to be Steffon Brax, and he kicked his horse towards the foot knight. The lance splintered into Ser Steffon's chest, and he bit into the dust. The mystery knight with the foot shield rode forward, and Kevan stood as the groom. "Good Ser, you have won the tilt! I give you the right to crown your Queen of Love and Beauty and ask for one boon, should be in my power, I shall happily give it!"

With bated breath, the audience watched him gather the crown of red roses onto the tip of his lance. "It is not you, that I ask a boon of, but that of Lady Brightheart." The voice of the mystery knight was familiar, and it bothered Tywin that he could not place it. 

Slowly, the knight rode to the right side, where Kevan's family, and thus Tywin, sat. The laurel of flowers was placed upon his wife's lap, and the turney grounds fell into a hush, "Lady Brightheart, I ask you to honor me by accepting the title of Queen of Love and Beauty, and give me the boon of accepting me as your sworn shield."

Whispers broke out, only to be silenced as his smiling wife replied, "And tell me, good ser, to who is asking to guard the Lady of Lannister?" The mystery knight removed his helm, to reveal a head of brown hair, Tywin Surefoot smiled up at them from atop his horse.

"A man who owes his lady his life," He replied, "Tywin Surefoot, squire for Ser Addam."

Diana smiled at the boy, before turning to Tywin expectantly. "Knight him, and accept him into your service." She whispered, and they rose from their seats together.

"Tywin Surefoot," Tywin held out his hand as a servant ran forth with a blunted tourney sword, he tapped each of the boy's shoulders, "I knight thee, Ser Tywin, and accept you into the service of house Lannister, as the sword shield to Lady Diana." The small folk screamed and cheered, while the fifteen year old before him blushed.

Chapter Text

Prince Jaehaerys looked a lot like his brother, the Crown Prince Rhaegar, when he slept. Surely, that is what the babe appeared to be doing. At six moons old, Jaehaerys was a sickly thing, and breathed his last in a fitful night of sleep. The baby's birth was supposed to herald a new beginning, Tywin had watched the King and Queen grow closer at their son's birth. The relief and joy in Rhaella was palpable, and he contemplated bringing his own family back to court, perhaps to have another child of his own. 

But then the baby prince grew ill, at barely a moon old, and never fully recovered from the illness. Aerys had stopped attending small council sessions when the babe grew sick, and returned to them the day after his son had passed. The suspicion in his eyes as he roved over the men before him had Tywin gritting his teeth. Recently, a eunuch named Varys entered their ranks, a foreigner with spies throughout the city, if not the entire realm. His little birds, as they were called, were hard to spot, but Tywin weeded a few out of his own household and kept vigilant watch for another.

The funeral for his nephew by marriage was to be today, an intimate affair consisting of the court, nicely dressed in freshly black silks. Queen Rhaella looked desolate, her eyes blank as she stood before her son's casket. Tywin briefly wondered if the Queen wished for such a public display, her other dead children never say the light of day, though the Prince had lived, unlike Princess Shaera, Tywin learned the stillborn girl Rhaella had was named after her grandmother, the Queen Mother who now resided on Dragonstone. 

King Aerys watched the crowd of fake mourners with a steely expression, Ser Gwayne Gaunt of the King's Guard ever vigilant behind him. Varys brought whispers of those not satisfied with the king, and he was happy to spin tales of treason to the king to prove his worth. The Lord of Duskendale had been tenacious enough to seek a charter from the king, giving him the same rights that Dorne had on imports and taxation, a proposal Tywin shut down immediately. Tywin blamed his foreign wife, a woman too ambitious for her own good, and eager to step up in the world. Another Ellyn Reyne, who overplayed her hand and would meet the same fate if not put in check properly.

The death of his son had broken something in Aerys, and fueled the rage he felt to any who threatened the dynasty that he was powerless to add members to. The king was sterner in his punishments, even punishing children as if they were adults. An eight-year-old boy had been sent to the Watch for stealing a loaf of bread for his sister to keep from starving, and Tywin thought of his wife's sworn sword, of how he and his sister were once orphans suffering the same fate. 

Diana had a soft spot for bastards, children, and broken things, it was her way, and Tywin allowed her to give tax breaks to bakeries in Lannisport who have their surplus to the Septas to distribute to the poor the next morning. Yet in King's Landing, the small folk starved in the streets.

It was no wonder they called her Lady Brightheart, while her brother was the despised king.

Aerys had no qualms with his subjects growing distressed with the lack of food in the city from the closure of the King's Road that occurred the week before, closing all travels in and out of the main gate for three days and leaving crops to rot before they could enter the city. Varys had whispered of unrest coming up that road, spies hidden in the servants, delivering steel and not food, Tywin loathed the eunuch.

After the funeral, Tywin would leave court. He missed his lady wife, and his children had grown without him there to guide them. For a few moons, he would stay at the Rock, perhaps bring Jaime and Alysanne back to court with him to be playmates for Rhaegar. The crown prince looked glum standing next to his mother as they accepted condolences from the court. 

Lord Jon Arryn was speaking in hushed tones with Lord Steffon Baratheon and Lord Rickard Stark, and Aerys seemed to notice as well. The three men quickly ended their conversation and came forward, Rickard being the first to speak. "My condolences on your loss, your graces. May your Seven bring you peace." Tywin knew he followed the Old Gods, as every Stark did.

The two other lords quickly followed suit, and gave apologies and grim nods. "Lord Hand, may we speak for a moment?" Rickard asked him, and Tywin nodded and stepped away from the royal family to give them privacy. The Lord of Winterfell motioned a lad of about six forward, the spitting image of Northern looks, his heir most likely. "My son Brandon, has traveled with me. We were on our way to your seat, my Lord, but heard of the prince's passing and came here to pay our respect."

Tywin thought back to Diana's most recent letter, " Jaime is in need of a playmate, and I have written to a select few on warding their heir." Tywin thought she meant a bannermen of theirs, not the heir to the North. "You have reached terms with my lady wife, then?" Tywin asked, and received a nod. He did not wish to appear unknowing but he also did not know the terms of the fostering. 

"Aye, Brandon was looking forward to training with Lord Jaime and your master-at-arms." Rickard replied with a slight smile, "It is a shame Lady Alysanne is already betrothed, although my Lyanna is only three years younger than your Jaime."

The North held little military advantages, and the West had little need of furs or anything that could be traded to and fro, but they had land aplenty and the loyalest men to ever pledge to a banner. "Jaime would be a man grown long before she flowers, but our heirs may be lifelong friends." Tywin offered politely.

"Of course, my other son Ned, shall be warding in the Vale with Lord Steffon's heir." Rickard supplied, and Tywin kernelled the information away for a later date. Fostering was a step towards lifelong alliances, the next one marriage, though he would never offer his daughter, Alysanne or a future one, to a second son.

"I'm sure they will become fast friends." Tywin replied, growing bored with the lord before him, he needed to make sure the King did not act too cruel to his Queen in public, the whispers had already begun of such things.

"And please tell Lady Diana that the tree has been planted, and that she has my thanks for her permission." Rickard spoke once more, before excusing himself and taking his son to meet more of the nobles of each realm. What tree was he talking about? Diana sometimes spoke in riddles when she wrote, afraid of letters falling into the wrong hand. Perhaps his next trip home would be more informational than leisurely.

He watched the Lord of the North make his exit while Tywin planned in his mind his trip, as well as the child that would soon join his household.

Chapter Text

Diana was surprised when Tywin asked her to bring the children to King's Landing. His words are a suggestion, but the tone hidden within is a command. The twins had just reached their tenth name day, Daemon his seventh and her ward Brandon had turned nine the moon before. 

The ride is not too long, a week or two at most, but Diana has made it a moon long venture, stopping at the bannerman of every house of the West. They began their journey the day before, and decided to spend the night in the Clegane's keep. Lord Gregor's wife had given him two sons and a daughter, Gregor the second, Sandor and Elaine. Although little Gregor is not so little anymore, the boy is eleven but has the body of a sixteen year old at the youngest. 

Diana felt foolish, giving the boys wooden toys to play with as gifts, but Sandor seems enraptured with them. After the feast, the children are shooed off to play while the adults speak. Brandon and Jaime had grown thick as thieves over the few years of fostering, and Diana wrote to his father every few moons with glowing reviews. “ There’s is the song of ice and fire” she thought, more wishful than anything.

She had indulged in a second glass of unwatered wine, and her fuzzy senses almost wrote off the screams as drunken men making bawdy conversations. But the flash of silver-gold hair at the doors to the hall and the teary shout of "Mother!" had her on her feet before she could blink. 

Jaime is sobbing, still half a child no matter how Tywin may wish for his heir to be a grown man. Diana crouches before him and soothes him by running a hand through his mop of spun gold, the perfect mix of his father and mother's coloring.

"Jaime, darling, what is it?" Her son was not one to weep, yet here he was bawling like a babe in the cradle. Her instincts are screaming at her.

"S-sandor!" The boy bawled, "Gregor pushed him in the fire!" The look on Lord Clegane's face is more embarrassed than worried for his son, and Diana lifts her skirt with one hand and takes her child's hand in the other.

"Take me to him." She orders her son, before turning to glare at the Lord of the house, "Fetch a Maester, now." It was no suggestion, no matter who’s keep it was, they were in the Westerlands and she was the Lady of the West. With a swish of silk, mother and child walk away from the silent hall. Sandor is clutching his face and weeping, the smell of burning flesh tinges the air, she pushes down the dry heave that climbs up her throat. Brandon is holding the sobbing child, as Gregor picks underneath his fingernails, sitting in a chair as if nothing is amiss, as if the future lords of the North and West were spinning tales.

Diana takes in the scene, the broken swords on the floor, the weeping, horrifically scarred child, yes child and his nonchalant brother, expecting to get away with it. She sees red. "How dare you!" The blood is singing in Diana's ears, demanding retribution.

The heir of Clegane shrugs, as if nothing were wrong, "He tripped and fell into the fire."

"Liar!" Brandon breaks in, and lunges for the boy thrice his size. "He was playing with the toys Lady Diana gave to them, and Gregor got mad he was playing with both of them. He did not even want them, he said they were for babies!”

Fire and blood. Fire and blood. The words hum in the air, and the lady of Lannister does not even blink. "Guards." Her voice is cold and distant, and Ser Tywin and a few guards enter, wary and blanching at the sight before them. "Ser Tywin, please, take Sandor to the Maester and the boys to their rooms."

She thanks the Seven her daughter did not witness anything, having gone to bed early after a long day of travels. Her son and his companion did not need to see what she is about to do, what the fire was screaming at her to do. Gregor goes to leave as well, but when Diana shakes her head a faceless Lannister soldier grabs his arm. "Seize him, properly." Three men hold the boy still, his size giving him strength but not skill as he struggles in their grasp.

"Which hand did you shove him with, or did you use both hands?" Diana asks, and when the boy spits at the floor, saliva coating the hem of her dress, instead of responding, the lady glares at him. She feels outside of herself, watching from a bird’s eye view yet completely present at the same time. She knows what needs to be done, Clegan is barely a bannerman, he could be bought with gold. But Sandor, sweet little Sandor, he will bear the scars from his brother all his life. She will make revenge taste sweet. "I'll take both then." A torch is lit on the opposite side of the fire, spreading even light to the room.

She nods to the guards, who hesitate for the barest moment before they present the struggling boy's hands. When she moves the torch below his wrists, the screaming begins. The flames lick eagerly, and Diana does not blink as his fingers turn black, lunging the flame closer when he recoils. She waits until his hands are completely charred, no doubt needing to be amputated, before removing the flame. "Send him to the cells beneath the keep, the Night's Watch shall take him in the morning.

Her hands smell of soot and the scent of rotting flesh and the sound of screams haunt her, yet her mind conjures only the image of her ruby red dragon egg, of the whispers that haunt her dreams, fire and blood. Fire….and blood.

Chapter Text

Tywin knew it was the right decision to call his family to King's Landing, mainly because of the rumors surrounding his wife's journey to him. The tame version was that Gregor, the heir to house Clegane, had burned himself and his little brother in a brawl gone wrong. Others claimed that Sandor was burned maliciously by his brother and Diana was so appalled that she turned into a dragon and breathed fire onto the little lord.

Diana had lived unchecked for too long, had allowed the power to go to her head. The Clegane's were their most faithful bannermen, and could not be torn apart as the Reynes and Tarbecks had been. Loyalty should be rewarded, not punished, Diana herself was the one to push such things on him during the early years of their marriage.

Yet now his children were older, and it was time that Alysanne grew closer to her betrothed and Jaime learned to rule as a lord should. Aerys was already breathing down his neck as to when his daughter would flower, as if he controlled when his daughter became a woman and receive her moonsblood. Prince Rhaegar remained their only child, and was almost a man grown himself.

Queen Rhaella had traveled to Dragonstone the day after she heard that her sister was heading to King's Landing. The Queen Mother, Shaera, was said to be of poor health and as her eldest daughter, Rhaella was excused to take care of her. Diana never spoke of her mother, except for when she spoke of her own parenting, and how she refused to be like her mother, a great lady but a horrid, never present mother.

Tywin sat atop his horse, waiting for his lady wife to enter into the Red Keep, her golden carriage slowly plodding into view. His son and his ward rode atop twin black war horses, the colts of Diana and Tywin's own steeds, and Tywin could not help the pride in his chest at the sight of son riding as easily as if he were walking. Brandon Stark was said to be a fine horseman, and his equestrian skills had been shared with Jaime, Diana wrote that the two were the best of friends.

There was a third boy riding with him, wearing a hooded cloak of a golden color, three black dogs on his back. He could not see his face, for the hood was up and bandages wrapped most of the boy's face, but he knew who rode with them: Sandor Clegane. The boys and their guards rode in first, and upon closer inspection, Tywin recognised the small, even stitching on all three cloaks the boys wore, each in their house colors and with their respected sigils, Diana had been busy sewing on the trip it seemed.

"Lord Father!" Jaime called, spurring his horse forward. His companions seemed nervous, seeing the Lord of Lannister and Hand of the King for the first time atop his pitch black steed, but Jaime only saw his father, the man who his mother spoke about with utmost adoration. "May I introduce my companions, and the wards of house Lannister, Brandon Stark and Sandor Clegane."

The lines were rehearsed, but the words were what was expected and his son did well. "My lords." Tywin nodded to each in turn, "I welcome my wards and family to the Red Keep, the servants shall lead your items to the Tower of the Hand, where my household stays."

Tywin Surefoot bowed to his lord quickly before dismounting his own horse and walking briskly to the stopped carriage, offering his hand as the handmaidens exited. Next came Septa Rayanne, then his daughter. Alysanne had grown in the time Tywin had been gone, every time he saw his daughter, she looked more and more like her mother. The otherworldly beauty of the Targaryens glowed in Alysanne, and reminded him of Diana when they were first wed.

Alysanne was clothed in a crimson silk dress, lions and dragons upon the hem, and for a moment Tywin thought it was her mother's old dress. Diana followed her daughter, and grinned brightly at him, wearing a golden gown with black lions and red dragons prancing.

"My lord," Alysanne curtsied before her father, the picture of grace. Her lavender eyes were alight, her silver hair piled into braids atop her head. She was his perfect child.

"Lady Alysanne, you are a vision." Tywin replied, and dismounted his horse to stand at eye level. The boys followed suit, and Tywin watched the Clegane boy attempt to further cover his face.

Tywin offered his arm to wife to escort her, giving a chaste kiss as he helped to lift her up onto the horse that had been readily saddled for her arrival. The Hand of the King wished to take his wife for a short ride before they entered the keep. "Septa, please escort the children to the Tower of the Hand." Tywin ordered, climbing back onto Bright Roar.

Daemon seemed about to protest, still more boy than man, but Diana pinned her son with a no-nonsense look, "We shall have luncheon when I return, sweetlings. We can eat in the gardens and perhaps invite the prince." Alysanne blushed, obviously over eager to see her betrothed as a young adult and not a girl (when had she stopped looking like a child, he wondered) but her brothers seemed satisfied with the answer. A chorus of 'yes, my lady' and 'yes, mother' resounded from the children, and Tywin began to motion his horse forward.

They rode side by side in silence for a few moments, waiting until they were away from prying ears. "You sent one Clegane boy to the Wall and took the other as a ward, Lord Gregor was not pleased to lose both his sons in one night." Tywin stated, watching his wife struggle to keep her face neutral.

"Jaime and Brandon watched that monster press his little brother into a fire pit for playing with toys that I gave them. Sandor is heavily burned, Tywin! He will bear those scars for the rest of his life!" Diana snapped at him, the same unstable rage in her eyes that he saw in Aerys more and more with each passing moon. It startled him.

"So you turned into a dragon and set him alight?" Tywin quipped, "My family made the Clegane's a noble house, and you seek to undo that with what you have done."

"I have donned a lion's mane for more years than I have been a dragon, Tywin. What was it the Bards sing, with fire and blood, Lord Tywin roars? It is my house those words come from, and that boy deserved what happened to him." Diana replied sternly, her tone biting.

"To be sent to the Wall? Or to be burned?" He asked, and for a moment she looked ashamed. Although all to soon, it was replaced with her garish pride, one might think she was born a lion in those moments.

"He showed no regret for his actions, and spat at me when I asked why he did it. Sandor is seven, Tywin, and he may lose his eye to the burns, and has wept every night from the pain. I held the torch beneath the boy's hands to give him the same pain. I took no pleasure in the action." Diana said quietly after a moment, "I didn't know what I was doing, Tywin. The thought struck to give him a taste of his own poison, but once the flame met his skin, I just couldn't stop."

"When a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin, and the world holds its breath." Tywin replied, "Your coin fell on it's side, Diana. It's up to you whether to be mad or great." He took no stalk in such nonsense but knew his wife held whole heartedly to it. Tywin knew how to play the game with her, to tell her what she needed to hear. Her eyes were shining with tears, and she knows she must face her actions.

"I'm sorry, Tywin." She murmurs, and he only nods at her. Diana stares straight ahead for a moment, blinking back tears, he wonders if such a thing would have happened in the first place, had he been at his own keep instead of running the kingdom from behind the scenes.

"Kevan can run the Rock while you are here, perhaps King's Landing shall do you some good." Tywin had summoned her for selfish reasons, yet they had borne fruit. The relationship between the King and his Hand was becoming estranged, and Tywin selfishly hoped that Diana's presence would give Aerys a different target for his unrest. Yet now, Tywin knew that his wife needed his presence to balance her as much as he needed her to balance him. A sword and a shield, united again. Although, the thought of a shield as a weapon of destruction had never crossed his mind before Clegane. Let her take the brunt of her brother for a moon or two, perhaps that would keep her in check.

Chapter Text

Diana used to love King's Landing, playing in the great hall at night once court was finished, hiding in dragon skulls and looming behind bones. When the children were but babes, she wished for them to grow up in their father's ancestral home, not hers. Watching Alysanne ride her pony to Lannisport to see Nina and Evelyn to pick out silks for dresses, Jaime and Brandon in the tilting yard, crossing wooden swords, little Daemon sitting in her lap in the library, begging for another story about Lann the Clever or Daemon the Grey. It was a childhood filled with joy, a brighter one than she had.

Yet here she was, back at square one. Sandor's wounds had healed nicely, and once there was no need for bandages, Diana coaxed him into not hiding his face. " Scars are signs of strength, not shame." She had told the lad, and his brown eyes watered. She was grateful that the small fortune spent on salves had saved both eyes, though the scarring was horrific.

The children and she had been in the capital on and off for years, and Diana knew that the time for her children to be just that, was almost over. Prince Rhaegar's name day was in a fortnight, he was already a man grown in the eyes of Gods and men, turning seventeen soon. Alysanne at fifteen, was a late bloomer who had yet to flower, much to the King's ire and the Queen's pleasure. 

Aerys wished them to be wed as soon as Alysanne became a woman, much to Diana's displeasure. Her first born would be eligible for turneys in a few turns of a moon, Jaime at fifteen was a better swordsman than even his father. Spending the year and a half in King's Landing had been good for her children, allowing Alysanne to grow used to court and her betrothed, while Jaime was able to refine his swordsmanship skills with boys his age and the King's guard.

Daemon was a fine archer, but could not hold a sword properly to save his life. He could hit a target from across the keep, though, and Diana had made sure that tourneys included archery contests from then on out. Daemon found solace in the large library of King's Landing, and enjoyed reading softly to himself while his father worked in his solar. 

Tywin was grooming their second son to be a lord just as much as he was Jaime, and he and Diana had been in talks with the Tullys, whom currently only had daughters. A Lannister running the Riverlands would be dream for her husband, but Diana only cared that Catelyn was good to her son.

Diana almost wished for another child, the nursery was empty within the Keep as of late, but knew that her sister would only be enraged at the fact. Aerys had grown more and more temperamental as of late, and looked at Alysanne like she was the source of his misfortune. Her daughter took after her in looks, with Valyrian coloring and high cheekbones, but with her father's nose. Alysanne was a demure maiden, not as fiery as her twin, a Lady of good breeding and etiquette, always remembering her courtesies.

She, herself, avoided her siblings at all costs, staying within the Tower of the Hand or distributing goods to the Smallfolk. Diana had no desire to catch her brother’s heated gaze again.

When her daughter came into her solar in tears, Diana was perplexed, Alysanne was never a crier, even as a babe. Daemon, who sat by the fire and was reading of the Doom of Valyria, looked just as startled as Diana was. "Alysanne, darling, what is it?"

"The king!" She cried, and Diana was holding her in an instant, stroking her silver mane and soothing her until she could speak again, "Prince Rhaegar was playing his harp, and asked me to sing, so I started singing the Rains of Castamere, Father said I sing it so prettily."

Diana took a deep breath, her husband had mentioned having luncheon with the prince and King, and had invited her along as well, but she was busy and sent Alysanne in her stead. Her daughter was besotted with her betrothed, and Diana wanted her to be happy, praying Rhaegar's coin landed on greatness and not madness.

"What about the king, sweet sister?" Daemon piped up, his book forgotten as he looked towards his weeping sibling. Daemon had his father's cunning, and loved to watch people. He took his older sister in his arms, holding her a little too close, although Diana failed to notice. 

"He said that I sang like a dying cat, befitting of a serving lion." Alysanne blubbered, her tears dripping into Daemon's shoulder.

"Alysanne," Diana began, her tone stern but soft, a feat only a mother could achieve, "Do you know why you are betrothed to the crown prince?" Part of her wanted to coddle her daughter, but she was soon going to be thrust into the game of thrones, Alysanne needed to learn, and quickly. 

"Because she is the most beautiful maiden in the realm!" Daemon replied with ease, and his sister blushed. She knew in a year or so, Daemon would be breaking hearts across the realm with his charm, second son or no.

"That," Diana acquiesced, "And because the prince is an only child, and the King believes that the bloodline must remain pure."

"Then why am I not betrothed to Jaime, if we should marry brother to sister?" Alysanne asked, her tears calming. Her mother had told them proudly of their line to the throne, of the fire and blood that ran through their veins.

"Because madness brews in inbreeding." Diana whispered, and drew her children closer to her, "This does not leave this room." She glanced around the shadows of the room warily.

When they had both nodded, Diana continued, "You are the best bride because you are my daughter, a silver lion with the blood of the dragon in your veins. The Queen cannot bear more children, so one day you shall give your husband many children."

She turned to her son, "Jaime shall be lord of the Rock, but you, Daemon, can be many things. You can be Castellan, like your Uncle Kevan, or you may marry an only daughter and be given lands of your own."

"If we are so great, why does the King say such things? The Queen is jealous, so I understand her coldness, but why her husband?" Alysanne asked, playing with the hem of her pale silver gown. 

"Because greatness cast shadows, and men do not like to stand in the shadow of someone else." Diana said simply, the pride leaking from her voice, "And my children cast the greatest shadow of all."

Chapter Text

The Royal Family:

Seat: King's Landing, Dragonstone

King Aerys the Second, husband and brother of Rhaella, age 37

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Queen Rhaella, wife and sister of Aerys, age 36

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Crown Prince Rhaegar, son and heir to Aerys and Rhaella, age 17

Silver of hair, purple of eye

The Westerlands:

The Lannisters of Casterly Rock:

Tywin, Lord of the Westerlands and Hand of the King, called the Roaring Lion, age 36

Blonde of hair, green of eye

Diana, formerly of house Targaryen, Lady of the Westerlands, called Lady Brightheart and Lady Divine, age 34

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Jaime, heir to the Westerlands and Casterly Rock, age 15 years

Pale blond of hair, green of eye

Alysanne, a Lady of house Lannister, called the Silver Maiden, age 15 years

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Daemon, second son of Tywin and Diana, age 11 years

Silver of hair, green of eye

Kevan, second born son of Tytos and Steward of the Rock, age 35

Blond of hair, green of eye

Dorna, formerly of house Swyft and wife to Kevan, age 32

Blond of hair, blue of eye

Tygett, third born son of Tytos, knight of house Redwyne, age 30

Blond of hair, green of eye

Gerion, fourth born son of Tytos, recently knighted, age 22

Blonde of hair, green of eye

House Banefort of Banefort:

Quenten, Lord of Banefort, age 36

Black of hair, brown of eye

Alyssa, formerly of house Velaryon, Lady of Banefort, age 33

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Talla, daughter of Alyssa and Quenten, age 12

Black of hair, blue of eye

Brent, heir to Banefort, age 10

Black of hair, brown of eye

Minor houses/ small folk:

Tywin, called Tywin Surefoot, sword shield of Diana, age 20

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Ellinor, apprentice to Nina the Seamstress, age 17

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Nina, a Seamstress in Lannisport, age 38

Brown of hair, brown of eye

The Reach:

House Tyrell of Highgarden:

Olenna, formerly of house Redwyne, Lady of the Reach, age 56

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Mace, Lord of the Reach, age 33

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Alerie, formerly of house Hightower, age 24

Blond of hair, blue of eye

House Redwyne of the Arbor:

Paxter, Lord of the Arbor, aged 33

Red of hair, blue of eye

Genna, formerly of house Lannister, age 27

Blond of hair, green of eye

Tywin, heir to the Arbor, age 7

Jane, daughter of Genna and Paxter, age 4

The Riverlands:

House Tully of Riverrun:

Hoster, Lord of the Reach, age 35

Red of hair, blue of eye

Minisa, formerly of house Whent, Lady of Riverrun, age 34

Pale blond of hair, blue of eye

Catelyn, heir to the Riverlands, age 14

Red of hair, blue of eye

Lysa, second daughter of Minisa and Hoster, age 12

Red of hair, blue of eye

The Stormlands:

House Baratheon of Storm's End:

Steffon, Lord of Storm's End, age 35

Black of hair, blue of eye

Cassana, formerly of house Estermont, Lady of Storm's end, age 33

Black of hair, blue of eye

Robert, heir to Storm's End, age 16

Black of hair, blue of eye

Stannis, second son of Cassana and Steffon, age 14

Black of hair, blue of eye

Renly, third son of Cassana and Steffon, age 1 moon

Black of hair, blue of eye

The North:

House Stark of Winterfell:

Rickard, Lord of the North, age 36

Black of hair, grey of eye

Lyarra, a cousin of Rickard's and Lady of the North, age 33

Black of hair, brown of eye

Brandon, heir to the North and ward of the Westerlands, age 14

Black of hair, grey of eye

Eddard, second son and ward of the Vale, age 12

Brown of hair, grey of eye

Lyanna, only daughter of Lyarra and Rickard, age 11

Dorne:

House Martell of Sunspear:

Elia, Princess of Dorne, age 34

Brown of hair, hazel of eye

Quentin, Prince consort of Dorne, age 33

Brown of hair, brown of eye

Doran, heir to Sunspear, age 18

Brown of hair, brown of eye

Elia, said to be frail, daughter of Elia and Quentin, age 14

House Martell of Fire Field:

Mors, Prince of Dorne and Lord of *Fire Field, age 31

Brown of hair, brown of eye

*Johanna, formerly of a minor branch house Lannister, Lady of Fire Field, age 30

Blond of hair, green of eye

Jason, heir to Fire Field, age 14

Brown of hair, green of eye

Annalyse, daughter of Johanna and Mors, age 13

Blond of hair, green of eye

*Fire Field is what I'm calling the remains of Summerhall, Mors has been given the land and built a large keep, called Fire's Den.

The Vale:

House Arryn of the Eyrie:

Jon, Lord of the Eyrie, age 41

Brown of hair, blue of eye

{Jeyne}, formerly of house Royce, Lady of the Eyrie, died at 27 of a winter chill

Brown of hair, brown of eye

Chapter Text

The day before the Prince's name day, Tywin awoke at dawn, as he always did. He garbed himself in a doublet with his wife's stitching of his sigil on his breast, as she often sewed with other ladies to hear gossip. When he passed his daughters chambers on his way to his solar, the sound of frantic sounds came from within. He stopped and knocked three times before hearing her voice call for him to enter.

Alysanne jumped when she saw her father, expecting her chambermaid to be returning with the proper items she needed. "F-father!" Her voice shook with embarrassment, and Tywin narrowed in on the blooming red stain on the waist of her nightgown. Rumors had already whispered, as they were wont to do, of how his daughter had yet to flower at fifteen years. 

Diana assured him that she was a late bloomer, she herself did not flower until just before her fifteenth name day, hence why she was unbetrothed at sixteen when they met. A surge of relief filled him to see his daughter enter womanhood, but also a sense of fear that his little girl was growing up too fast. His lady wife had been rather insistent that they bed almost nightly the past fortnight, and he wondered if she had dreamed of this event or if it was mother's intuition, their children were not children anymore. In two moons, Jaime would enter adulthood at sixteen, while his daughter was a woman freshly flowered.

"I apologize, Alysanne." He said after a moment, broken out of his thoughts by the sound of the door being knocked upon again before a servant came in, with rags and a bowl of warm water. "I shall allow you to get ready for the day."

He stepped out with a smile, heading back to his personal chambers rather than his solar. Diana was not pleased to be awoken an hour before she normally rose, but she had to know. "Alysanne's flower is blooming." The wording was awkward on his tongue, but he was not sure how else to phrase it. His wife seemed to pale at his words, a hooded worry covering her.

"Oh." Was all she said, frowning. Her silver mane was knotted and wild around her as she sat up in their bed, "I should go to her."

"Rest, my lady. Her maid is with her now, and I shall send one of her handmaidens to her." Tywin reassured her, but Diana got out of bed anyway.

He watched her undress and begin to slip a silk shift to wear under her dress when he rose to leave. "Shall we share a midday meal together, with the children as well."

Diana smiled at that, "Sandor and Brandon as well?" His wife had taken in quite the brood with those two, they constantly sparred against each other and were like wild dogs at times.

"Very well." Tywin allowed, and left his wife to get ready. He was set to break his fast with the King, Queen, and Prince that morning, with Alysanne and Jaime joining him. The Queen had made it clear she wished to see nothing of her sister and was cold to her niece and nephews as well. Thus, Diana ate with a few ladies of the court and ignored her sister's snub.

"Good morning, Lord father." Jaime greeted, his voice cheerful for the early hour. Brandon Stark walked with him, but only stopped to bow slightly at Tywin before continuing on. As Lord Paramounts to be, they both earned seats at the table, Sandor had not, although Brandon usually chose to eat with the burned boy anyways.

"Lord Lannister," Brandon said formally, passing the father and son. "I'll see you in the tilting yard, Jaime!"

Jaime and Tywin stood for a moment in silence before the sound of silk swishing could be heard. "She takes as long to get ready as a princess." Jaime japed, causing her father to smile slightly. Alysanne appeared bedecked in a gown as silver as her hair, golden thread depicting trees and flowers across her shoulders and hem, the newest southern style.

With the twins in tow, Tywin headed to a small hall where the food would be served, finding Aerys and Rhaella already there. The Lannisters sat down, and they waited for the crown prince. "Your grace, there is something I need to discuss with you." Tywin began, catching the attention of both king and queen.

"If this about Duskendale, I'll hear no more of it!" Aerys snapped, already in a mood. Queen Rhaella looked drawn but sat mutely by her brother and husband.

"No, your grace. Lady Alysanne's red flower has bloomed." His voice was soft, but his daughter heard his words and turned bright pink. "Preparations for the royal wedding may begin."

"My son will not want to fuck a bloody cunt." The king drawled, earning gasps from the two women in the room, "The wedding can wait for now." Jaime looked as if he wished to draw his sword, and Tywin felt rage build in him at the slight.

Prince Rhaegar entered the room just then, and the tension in the air was palpable. "I apologize for my tardiness, my lords, my lady, your majesties." The silver prince greeted, looking at Alysanne with concern. His daughter was holding back tears, which only seemed to enrage her twin more, Jaime was gripping his knife rather tightly despite food not being served yet.

"No need to apologize, my prince." Tywin replied with a tight smile, "Join us, let us begin."

"I decide when we eat." Aerys demanded, "Sit boy, the Queen and I have news to share." Rhaegar seemed used to his father's snappy attitude and followed instruction without complaint.

Tywin stared at Aerys for a moment, waiting for him to speak. "The Queen is expecting, the Maester say she carries like a girl." His smug tone had Tywin reeling. What was he implying? That his daughter, a woman grown and flowered, would be set aside for a babe that would most likely not live past infancy? That Rhaeger wait until his parent’s age to wed his sister?

"Congratulations, your grace." Tywin pointed his voice towards the Queen, her smug smile confirming Tywin's suspicions. "I shall be sure to spread the news on my journey West. Jaime is almost a grown man, it is about time I taught him how to be lord of the West." The lord of Lannister said evenly. His rage was boiling beneath the surface. Let the King watch his fail to give him another child, and let him crawl to Casterly Rock to beg for Alysanne's hand for his son. Let him crumble without a lion to guard his throne.

Chapter Text

Diana had ravens flying to and from Casterly Rock, preparing for their journey. The tower of the Hand was being packed up, Tywin refusing to remain as Hand of the King when Aerys refused to make good on the betrothal promised to him for over ten years. A week after the Prince's name day feast, Alysanne ran to her mother, once again in tears. Prince Rhaegar had come to see her, and tell her that she would make a lovely bride for a lord one day, for his father had all but said that Alysanne was not Valyrian enough for a Queen. 

Diana stewed in her anger, staring into the fire that lit her personal chambers, and the red dragon egg sitting in front of her. Her dreams seemed stronger when the egg was burning the hearth in the same room she slept in. Tywin did not approve, but made no move to stop her.

 " A dragon's life is worth two servants, your grace." The dream repeated itself, every night. Sometimes there were things before it, a wolf howling and a dragon's screech, sometimes as her words echo, the vision fades and she sees thorns enveloping the antlers of a stag, roses blooming and choking the animal as it rages, falcons descending to sink their claws into a rooster's back. Diana was not a fool, she knew her dreams spoke of war.

Which was why Diana sent a letter written by her own hand and using her personal sigil with Brandon as he rode to Winterfell. Jaime was going to learn to rule the West, and Brandon must learn to rule the North. She had shed a few tears as she hugged her foster son goodbye, "Winter is coming, but you shall always have a place at my hearth, sweet summer child." She had whispered into his tunic, the boy had grown into a man a head taller than her.

They were to leave for Casterly Rock, for home. Her carriage was being readied, and she was looking forward to stopping at the seat of house Brax, and seeing Alyssa's children, they had surely grown as much as her own had in the years since she saw her friend last. Tywin entered her chambers with a tired smile, "I handed the King my hand necklace, we leave in half an hour."

"How did he take it?" Diana asked, taking her eyes off her cooling dragon egg to look at him. Being Hand of the King had aged him, the worry lines around his face getting more and more severe. 

"As well as to be expected. He ignored my advice and has told the servants to prepare a small retinue, he wishes to deal with Duskendale in person." Tywin replied wryly. The lord of Duskendale had stopped paying his taxes, and they were a moon late. The Hand wished to rain down fire and blood but the King scoffed and said only a dragon can do such a thing, not a lion. Tywin held back on bringing up house Reyne and Tarbeck at that.

So Aerys was visiting the defiant lord himself, bringing only a small retinue of servants and only his favorite of the King's Guard, Sir Gwaine Gaunt.

"And the Martells?" Diana continued, the Princess of Dorne had arrived with two of her three children in tow, Elia and Oberyn. She presented them to the court, looking for good matches. The girl was a frail and flat chested thing, but she had a lovely, warm smile. Oberyn was rambunctious and spent more time in the tilting yard than even Jaime, and the two had been sparring nonstop since the prince's arrival. He was a good lad, but third in line due to Dornish laws of inheritance.

"Lord Frey has sent a missile to them, offering a bride with her weight in silver for either prince, but their mother scoffed at it." Tywin drawled, "Much like you did when he asked for Genna's hand."

Diana smirked at her husband, "I was a wild, young thing then." The amusement reflecting in Tywin's green eyes makes her smile.

"You still are a young, wild thing, Diana." Her husband tells her, before reminding, "We need to leave soon, the sooner we leave this cesspit, the better." Diana nods to him, and from the dying embers she reaches for her egg, cradling it in her palms.

"Will you open the box?" She asks, and Tywin opens the sturdy box of oak that is lined with black silk, custom made to house her egg. It fits snuggly, and the scale skims Tywin's palm as Diana releases it, and he almost drops the box.

"Seven hells, Diana!" Tywin exclaims, dropping the wooden keeper onto the floor and grabbing her wrists, inspecting her pale hands. They aren't even pink, yet a blister is already forming on Tywin's wrist where the scale grazed him. "Your hands...they aren't burned."

Diana laughed, but it had a forced edge to it, "Tywin, the bottom of the egg is probably scorching, that's why I held it from the top." She did not though, she cradled it like a child, but he is mute to contradict her, lest he have to muse over the fact that the scorching hot egg did not burn her, and why that might be.

"Let's go home." He says after a moment, warily, and picks the box up to leave it with the last bit of their things to be collected by the servants. With that task done, he offers her his arm. "Any word from the Starks?"

"Brandon should be in Winterfell soon, so there should be a raven awaiting us at Casterly Rock." Diana replied, "We should have our answer then." She prayed that Rickard would answer her request with the response she wished, one that took many evenings of logical whispers and the sight of thin silk on her body to get Tywin to agree to.

Chapter Text

A moon after Tywin left King's Landing, a small escort bearing the royal banner entered the lion's mouth. He stood waiting to greet them, keeping a smug smile at bay. Prince Rhaegar came personally, it seemed, to beg for his forgiveness. He would give it, after a bit of groveling, of course. It was strange though, that they would arrive before dawn. 

Nonetheless, when a servant informed him that scouts from Lannisport spotted them, he readied himself to greet them. As he walked to the spot he now stood, he heard the servants whisper, it was said that today was the day the dead walked the earth, spirits guiding other lost souls to solace. Tywin thought it ridiculous, an old belief that should have been forgotten over the years, yet the Calendar of the Seven marked this day as the Stranger’s Walk.

"My prince." Tywin greeted, bowing only the amount that was required. The silver prince dismounted his horse, and Tywin was surprised to see him riding a sand steed, they were known to be the fastest in the realm. Even his retinue was small, just enough to be proper, all on Dornish horses.

"I have come in great haste, my lord, on my queen mother's behalf. She could not make the journey herself, so I come in her place." Rhaegar began, "The King is being kept prisoner in Duskendale, and the Queen bids you to rescue her kingly husband."

Tywin processed the information, and shook his head. The king was a fool, to ride into his enemy's home with such a small escort. Although, here Rhaegar was doing the exact same thing, entering the keep of a man his father severely slighted. "What are the Lord's demands?" Not that he would heed them.

"He wishes for his land's own independence. I would not be surprised if he styles himself as King of Duskendale as well." Rhaegar said with a sneer. Tywin imagined him as king one day, so full of gusto and a thirst for power, Tywin wondered if he would be able to achieve it, the boy was rather soft.

"We shall siege them then." Tywin replied flippantly, "After the wedding, of course." The surprise on Rhaegar's face had Tywin feeling rather smug. Did he honestly think Tywin would go just because of the order of Aerys?

"And whose wedding is that, Lord Lannister?" Rhaegar asked defiantly, his voice tight. "My father has already said I shall wed my sister."

Tywin shook his head, "The King will be dead before you wed a babe not yet born over my daughter." The escort included Ser Barristan, who stared hardly at him. "Lady Alysanne is a maiden of Valyrian blood, grown and flowered. What if you have a brother, my Prince? Your father promised my daughter a crown, and you shall fulfill that oath. In three days' time, you shall wed my daughter in the Sept of Casterly Rock, and once you two are wedded and bedded, we shall depart with a host of my men to siege Duskendale and rescue the King."

"And if I refuse? Would you defy the order of your king?" Prince Rhaegar tested. Tywin smiled cruelly at him, and shrugged.

"My men shall still march, but gathering an army takes time, and moving them such a distance? Well, who knows how long it could take so many men to march so far…" Tywin trailed off, and saw he had his nephew pinned.

Rhaegar grit his teeth, and nodded, "Lady Alysanne shall make a fine bride, and a wonderful Queen one day, like the good Queen before her."

"Wonderful!" Tywin said with mock cheer, "I shall have your horses seen to and your men seen to chambers to rest, eat and drink." The servants seemed to pour out of the castle at their lord's words, guiding the horses and men to where they needed to go. "Come, nephew, I shall show you to your chambers personally."

They were the last people in the courtyard when they heard a haunting voice, "Alysanne, Alysanne, where have you gone, my love?"

Tywin felt a chill go down his spine, he knew that voice, he heard that voice sing his children to sleep as babes. "Diana?" He rushed forward, and there, coming out of the woods of the lion's mouth, was his wife. Her cloak covered her shoulders, but her purple eyes were rimmed with red, staring into the distance, her hair matted with twigs and her slippers in tatters, feet cut from stones and bleeding into the earth. Tywin grabbed her shoulders, shaking her roughly, "Diana? Diana, by the Seven, woman!"

Her dragon dreams of late had grown wilder, though he made sure to keep word of it hushed. He loved his wife but she had not appeared like this since the fire of Summerhall. 

"Tywin?" She finally said, but collapsed into his arms.

He cradled her to his chest, eyes wide. Rhaegar stared at them, and then focused his eyes over Tywin's shoulders and paled as if he saw a ghost. Tywin shoved past the prince and headed to the Maester's towers. “Not a word.” Tywin hissed to the gaping prince, who had his eyes fixed at a long, silvery shadow in the woods and hearing the cackle of a wood’s witch long gone.

Chapter Text

Diana knew she was with child not only because her moon's blood was late, as well as the active endeavors with her husband when they were in King's Landing a moon ago, but because the intensity of her dragon dreams. When she awoke in the middle of the night to find the fire roaring in the hearth, her egg all but glowing, she was transfixed. In nothing but her nightgown, she approached the fireplace, and gasped when a voice called to her, one oh so painfully familiar, "Diana…"

"Grandfather?" Her voice was shaking, she was a woman grown, not a scared child. Then again, when her grandfather had passed, she was but a child herself, barely older than her eldest children now. A silver silhouette danced in the shadows of the flames on the wall of her chamber, a man with a crown in his hands. 

He beckoned her to follow, and the moment she grabbed her cloak to wrap around herself, the flames breathed up the walls and snuffed out as Diana left the room. The world seemed hazy, almost as if she were in a stupor, and she followed the shadow that looked like her kingly grandfather, through the twisting caverns of the Rock, deep into the bowels and into passageways that had not been in use for years, and Diana found herself in the woods outside of Lannisport.

"Diana…" The shadow called, "Andal Divine…" The edges of her vision were but hazes, and she barely felt the pain in her feet as her slippers were torn as she stumbled in the dark woods, guided only by the outline of her most cherished relative.

An enclosure appeared in the distance, a shoddy hut made from fallen trees, slanted and enclosed by trees. Her grandfather let her into the small home, if one could call it that. She paused at the door, should she knock? When the door opened on its own accord and she stepped in, the fog on her mind lifted and she took a step back in fear, her hand instinctively falling on her stomach.

What had just happened? She had dreamed true dreams before, but never had she been lead somewhere by them. Diana looked around in terror, she had no idea how to get back to Casterly Rock, she was in but a shift and a cloak she did not have on before bed, her fingers clutched it, ruby red, black dragons dancing on the back. 

She remembered that cloak, her grandfather had wrapped her in it often as a child, when they would walk the grounds of Dragonstone, when he would whisper to her about her dreams.

"At last, you have the sight, so you do see." A voice so familiar to one she heard a child haunted her ears. She was before a wood's witch. Diana glared venomously at the woman, and turned to leave, but the old hag spoke again, "My sister tried to warn him, in the end the king did not listen. Only a true dragon can hatch an egg, and he was not."

Diana wanted to lash out at the woman, but her hands shook too heavily for her to do much other than stare at the witch darkly. "Why have you brought me here?" She asked, "It was a cruel trick."

The wood's witch laughed, "That was no trick, milady. On this night, spirits wander on their own accord. You chose to follow his spirit to me, so now you must ask yourself why you wished to come here, or moreso, why did your grandfather lead you to me?"

Diana pursed her lips and stared sourly at the woman, her mind reeling. The cotton like fog in her mind when he led her here, she thought of his few words, mere whispers. "What is Andal Divine?"

"Who is Andal Divine?" The witch corrected, "I am Maggy the Frog, and who are you?" She stared pointedly at Diana, her hooded eyes boring into her. The woman was grotesque but Diana was transfixed.

"Diana Lannister of the house Targaryen, Lady of the Westerlands." Diana said with conviction, but the witch only waved her hand as if for her to continue. "Lady of Casterly Rock and wife to Tywin Lannister, the Roaring Lion. Mother to Jaime, Alysanne and Daemon."

Maggy the frog sighed, "Perhaps you do not see, Aegon was clever, insisting on the old Andal spelling for your name, your father insisted on naming you Dyanna, but the King insisted, his granddaughter was to be the Andal Divine one day."

Diana stared at her in shock, her grandfather was always superstitious, he was just as enthralled with Lady Jenny's witch as Lady Jenny herself, the king took her prophecies for truth, no matter how cryptic. He had insisted she marry an Andal Lord, now that she thought of it, he said that First Men were too barbaric for such a Valyrian beauty, and that she would freeze in the North, though her child would benefit from a winter maiden. "How clever of you." Diana finally bit back, "And my grandfather, I suppose, if one believes in prophecy."

"But it was not prophesy that brought you here today, you seek to have questions answered, and I can answer them. For a price." Maggy the frog drawled, her webbed fingers reaching out to the Lady. "For blood and a song, I shall answer three questions you seek to be answered."

Diana glared at the woman, but proffered her wrist, and the woman slashed into the junction of her wrist with a fingernail, drawing a hiss from her. She was not sure why she did it, was it the whispers of her dear Aegon? Was it the glow of her dragon egg, safe in her rooms, the reminder that only a true dragon will hatch an egg? 

 Maggy's tongue swiped across her bloodied fingernail, and her eyes flashed. "What do you seek to ask?" Her voice seemed different somehow, darker and older, a thousand voices, all speaking as one.

"Which gods are the true gods?" Diana asked, cradling her wounded wrist. She was brought up with the Seven but Brandon Stark had spoke at length of the Old Gods.

"There are many gods, the Old and the New are but mouthpieces to the same mummer. You have restored the sight of the Old in the South, and for that they owe you a debt." The witch's voice was the pitch of an old man, ancient and filled with wisdom.

"My husband wishes my Daemon to wed into house Whent, and become Lord of Harrenhal, but the land is cursed." Diana told the witch, "How can the curse be lifted?" It was a compromise they held, Diana had secured her offer to house Stark in exchange for the offer to house Whent, though Diana was wary to send Daemon to such a cursed keep.

"Fire and blood rained down during the Dance of Dragons." A feminine voice informed, "The Realms’ Delight cursed the land that defied the dragon, only with fire and blood can the land be yielded against the curse." Rhaenyra, the first and only of her name, had been burned alive in that keep, as well as countless others.

Diana pondered her third question for a moment, "I've dreamed of sitting on the Iron Throne with a lion at my feet since I was a child, what does it mean?"

"You live as a lioness, but have the blood of the dragon. Only when you are reborn as you were meant to be, shall you be crowned Queen of Andals, Rhoynar and First Men." A legion of voices spoke then, the High Valyrian lilt prominent, and for a moment Diana felt as if her ancestors were looking down on her, judging her.

Had she disappointed them? For being a Lannister more than a Targaryen? She had spent more of her life in her husband's household than her father's, so it was natural that she be a lioness. Maggy the Frog broke her out of her thoughts, "I am owed a song, Lady Brightheart."

The fog descended once again, and she found her voice singing words to a song she had not heard since she was a babe in the nursery, "Alysanne, Alysanne, where have you gone, my love? Atop your sweet Silverwing, riding into the night...Alysanne, Alysanne, the good Queen lost to me, Alysanne, Alysanne, where have you gone my love?"

Her voice was haunting, and Maggy the frog looked about to weep as she began to lead Diana through the forest, the haze around her seemed to thicken with each word she sang. The mist around the forest hung thick around them, and in the distance, Diana heard a voice calling her name. "Diana? Diana? By the Seven, woman!" Hands gripped her shoulders, and she blinked a few times. Maggy the frog was gone, and Tywin was shaking her a bit to roughly, a wild look in his eye.

"Tywin?" She asked in a daze, collapsing into him, she looked down at her shaking hands, there was no wound. Diana glanced frantically to the forest, King Aegon the Unlikely smiled at her and with a nod of approval, he was gone.

Chapter Text

Tywin had to admit, he was rather proud of himself, today his daughter would become a princess, and later in life, a queen. Diana was still a bit shaken from the events of a few evenings before, and Prince Rhaegar would not say what he saw, while Diana only said that she had met a witch who told her how to erase the curse of Harrenhal. Tywin had snorted at that, and Diana pinned him with a fierce glare for it. 

It was the bane of their relationship, a sufferable thorn in his side. Targaryens had always been obsessed with magic, bloodlines and dragons. He knew well before he married her of the supposed prophetic dreams, he had chalked it up to simply strong intuition, yet as their years together progressed, that thorn dug deeper. It took a small fortune of gold to silence the rumor from spreading and a couple loose tongues cut out before it could spread, he did not need word of his wife being mad spreading. 

Diana was proud of her bloodline but Tywin was growing more and more wary of it, especially with her recent behavior. The Maester had bandaged her feet and suggested that perhaps something had been slipped into the Lady's wine, and suggested he hire a taste taster as the King had for the Queen. Tywin did, if for nothing else than to have a pair of eyes on his wife. He loved her, but he was wary as of late.

The lord of Lannister waited outside his daughter's room, hearing his wife speaking softly. He had no doubt Diana was crying, as she often did at momentous moments in her childrens’ lives. The door to the chambers opened, and Tywin was struck back to his own wedding, seeing Alysanne in her mother's wedding dress. The lions and dragons on the silk gleamed with the jewels embroidered on the cloth, and Tywin was glad to see his daughter wished to wear her mother's wedding gown rather than have her own commissioned.

"You are a vision, Aly," Tywin said softly and watched Diana share a smile with her daughter. Tywin cleared his throat and blinked rapidly, blaming a stray sunbeam for making his eyes water.

"Thank you, father," Alysanne replied, a hint of nervousness in her voice. She took her father's arm and he lead her to the Sept, Diana trailing behind. When the doors opened a single harp began to play, a piece composed by the prince himself and Tywin escorted his only daughter to her bridegroom. Rhaegar was wearing a doublet emblazoned with his house sigil, and Ser Arthur Dayne stood a few feet behind him, bedecked in his white armor and holding a black cloak, no doubt meant for the bride.

Tywin presented his daughter and stepped to the side, waiting for the Septon to speak so he may take his daughter's cloak. The man was a Septon his wife worked with, Walton or Walder, something like that. He simply called him Septon. "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The man proclaimed, and Rhaegar reached gently to Alysanne, removing the roaring lion cloak and handing it to Tywin. The two shared a tense glance, but his daughter was all smiles as Ser Arthur gave his best friend the cloak to wrap around her shoulders.

"Father, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Smith, Warrior, Stranger, I am his/hers and s/he is mine." The couple said in unison, and the Septon proclaimed them Lord Husband and Lady Wife. The kiss was chaste, and for that Tywin was happy. 

At the feast, Tywin sat next to his wife. With her feet still bandaged, she did not dance but sat by his side. "It's strange to think we shall be doing this again so soon." Diana commented to her husband, "Lyanna Stark has flowered, and her father has agreed that she shall marry Jaime before winter begins."

"We have been blessed with a long summer, the fall is still two years away from the Maester's claim. That is long ways away." Tywin replied Lord Stark had been adamant that his daughter was fifteen when she wed. "If anything, Daemon shall be wed before Jaime. Lord Whent has agreed that he shall name the Lady Lynda his heir, with his eldest son dead and his younger son in disgrace. I have agreed to have Harrenhal restored to its former glory in exchange for allowing Daemon to remain a Lannister, and sire Lannister heirs to Harrenhal." Diana had a dark look crossed her face at the mention of Harrenhal, and he knew it was because of the supposed curse and that damn woods witch. He had sent out soldiers to hunt her down but she had disappeared.

"I'm sure it will be a wonderful seat once it's cleared of ghosts," Diana muttered darkly. Her eyes lightened though once she changed the subject, "Lord Rickard really has outdone himself, giving his daughter to the lions and catching his son a fine trout."

Tywin chuckled at that, "Lady Catelyn shall make a fine bride for Lord Brandon, shame she has a little brother now. Lord Steffon has also betrothed his son to the other Tully girl it seems."

"Oh?" Diana asked, Tywin knew that she had been meeting to go to Storm's End and visit her cousin, but never seemed to have the time. "Robert fostered with Brandon's brother, Ned. They are forming close ties."

"That's why Lyanna Stark shall be the next Lady of Casterly Rock." Tywin replied, "The great lords and royal family shall be united by blood." Tywin had thought having Brandon for a ward was enough, the north had little to offer in trade that could not be imported across the narrow sea. The other six kingdoms had no real use for furs, which were a high commodity in the north. He was happy to have gotten Lord Rickard to agree to the betrothal, considering Lord Steffon had also offered his son Robert for Lyanna's husband. 

The ambitious lord saw the wealth of the West and made the right choice, Tywin asked for little for a dowry, simply more of the strong, sturdy horses such as the ones given at his own wedding. Lyanna was pretty enough and would be useful to keep the ambition of Lords Tully and Baratheon in check.

"And have you decided who this one shall wed?" Diana joked, resting her palm against her slightly present stomach, swollen with child. Tywin smiled at her, a sense of pride filling him at the idea of another child between his wife and him. She would be distracted with the babe, hopefully forgetting her conversation with the wood’s witch soon enough.

"Perhaps little Lord Renly could be given Castamere to rebuild, should it be a girl." Tywin japed, halfway contemplating the idea.

His wife laughed but was not looking at him, and he followed her gaze to his daughter and her husband, dancing. They spend a good portion of their lives together and thus were not strangers when they were wed. There was so much happiness in Alysanne's face, a small tiara with a lion and a dragon emblazoned on the center crowned her silver hair as she danced with her prince. Rhaegar was not nearly as enthusiastic but played his part well enough.

It was no love match, but it was a powerful union all the same. Tywin would see his grandson on the throne, who would share relatives with three other lord paramounts through cousins. His legacy was secured, or would be once Aly was with a child of her own.

Tywin had refused the bedding ceremony, no man would touch his daughter except her husband. So as the dance ended and the guests got deeper into their cups, the couple slipped away. He hoped his daughter would give her husband a son as soon as she could, to ease the King's anger to find his son wed to Tywin's daughter. Although he smirked when picturing the king finding that out, perhaps he would do the honor himself.

They would ride out tomorrow, and lay siege to Duskendale and Tywin would rain fire and blood down upon Lord Darklyn, and the seven kingdoms would hear the lion roar.

Chapter Text

When Diana rode into King's Landing with her family in tow, she listened to the cheers of the small folk, who heralded the Lannister's as the saviors of the realm for rescuing their king. At eight moons pregnant, she was happy to recline in the carriage and take in the praise.

 Alysanne looked at her with a slight envy, but she assured her daughter there was plenty of time for her to have a child, the whispers at court be damned. She had laid with her husband one night, while Diana and Tywin had years together to have their three children, and the two on the way. The Maester had told her it was common for mothers of twins to have more than one set, the body grows accustomed, he claimed.

Yet the wide smile her husband cast at her as he helped her from the carriage made her feel twenty years younger, and she was reminded of when she was pregnant with Jaime and Alysanne. "You’re carrying rather large." Tywin said in greeting, and Diana chortled.

"I take it the raven telling you of twins did not arrive?" His smile widens, and her question is answered silently. "How is the little prince?"

"A strong babe, but a boy nonetheless." Tywin replied, and placed his palm on her swollen stomach. They shared a loving glance before the King and Queen arrived, as well as five of the seven King's Guard. Diana thought it a bit of overkill, but then again the king was held captive for nearly half a year.

"Sweet sister," Aerys crooned, and Diana noted that his beard and fingernails were jagged, had he not cut them since he was held captive? "Fat with child once more, I see. Yet not your daughter." 

The jab was souring, and Diana resisted the urge to glare at her brother. Her sister stood mutely, the babe in the nursemaid's arms, her eyes locked on the child and not Diana. Although, Rhaella had written to her for the first time in years, personally telling her of Prince Viserys’s arrival and congratulating her on knews of her own child. "They were wedded and bedded, dear brother, they shall have many warm nights to come I am sure." Diana offered with a false smile.

Her sons stood on each side of her, while Alysanne had walked to Rhaegar's side, she had worn the tiara Tywin smithed for her as a wedding present every day since she received it. "I'm sure my household is weary from travel, let us have them shown to their chambers." Tywin commanded, yet Diana noted with relief that he had no sigil of the Hand on his clothes.

"After they have been searched and their weapons removed." Aerys commanded, drawing a glare from both the lord and the lady of Lannister. Diana had not realized the rift between her husband and her brother had grown so much, she frowned discreetly. 

"As you wish, my king." Diana bit back, and with a slight curtsy dismissed herself. Daemon followed her while Jaime went to speak with Sandor and Alysanne to her husband. She was surprised when she asked to be led to her solar that she was led to the Maidenvault, another jab on Aerys's part. Would he seek to lock her in, under the guise of her own protection as their ancestors did? Already there were far too many gold cloaks roaming the keep. 

The fire had been started in the hearth, and a jug of wine and water were on the table with a couple goblets. Daemon helped himself to a glass of wine, and watered it slightly when he felt his mother's stare. He sat on one of the chairs before her desk, and watched his mother sit in her own seat.

"What if Lady Lynda is ugly?" Daemon asked, "I have never even met her, and we are to be married next year. What if she is a beast, with small teats and six feet tall?" He was fifteen, but had his mother laughing with his childish imagination.

"Then once this beast has bore you a son, we slip some poison in her wine." Diana japed, and watched her son pale, "Or perhaps Lady Lynda is a beauty just as her aunt Minisa is, with pale blond hair and blue eyes." Diana knew it was true, and her son seemed comforted at her words.

"Your seat shall be Harrenhal, my little dragon." Diana continued, "You are welcome to go visit it, and your betrothed as well." 

Daemon blanched, "I don't want her to think I already like her alot, going to see her in front of her whole family to court her!"

"Then don't visit to court her." She replied, "Go to Winterfell with your brother, stop in a variety of keeps and make a tour out of it, spending coin to make the small folk more endeared to you, and be there to get an honest impression of Lyanna Stark for me, not the love sick puppy version your brother will tell." From the sheer amount of ravens flying, she knew better than to think Jaime was exchanging letters with Brandon that often.

Daemon perked at that request, and Diana knew it was because her son was the inquisitive type, who liked to read and listen before he spoke. He would make a grand Maester had he not been born a Lannister. But he was also young, and would no doubt enjoy the attention put upon him on his travels. Diana coddled him a touch, seeing as he was not his father’s heir or an only daughter. "You'd have me spy on Jaime?" He seemed a little too enthused at the prospect. 

"No, of course not." Diana reassured her son, "I would have you let me know of the next Lady of Casterly Rock, if she is worthy of the name Lannister." She had drilled the importance of family into her children, of the worth of a name and carrying on traditions. They were the blood of the dragon and descended from Lann the Clever.

"Shall you ask Jaime about Lady Lynda as well?" Daemon prodded, thinking over his mother's words. Of all her children, Daemon had the Lannister cunning. He was always trying to barter deals.

"No, I already know I need to of your betrothed." Diana teased. A charming portrait of the girl had already been sent, the looks confirmed by more than one person. 

"Alright, I'll do it for you mother." He said after a moment, and Diana smiled, she coddled him perhaps too much, saw no faults in her youngest son. He was the perfect mixture of her and Tywin but none of the pride, none of the foolish dreams or arrogance.

Chapter Text

Tywin grew to hate King's Landing after the Defiance of Duskendale, the King insisted that Tywin was needed in the West and had not renamed him as Hand, all the while insisting he should stay for this feast or that celebration. Yet Diana was due for birth at any time, and thus was unable to travel. 

The Valyrian names she had selected were daring, a direct jab if looked at in the wrong light. Yet who was he to refuse the mother of his heirs, his Lady? Sure, servants scuffling in with that horrid smelling spiced milk that she never seemed to get enough of was loathsome, worse than the strawberry tarts she adored when pregnant with the first set of twins, but the delight in his wife's eyes was worth it.

He was trapped in a court that he no longer held power in, and the sooner his wife and children were able to travel, the better. Jaime and Daemon had already left for Winterfell, planning on stopping at Harrenhal, the Eyrie, and even Riverrun along the way. His wife had sent them with a caravan of goods, acts of good will towards the other kingdoms. His wife had a calculating look in her eyes, the same as before his father died, he wasn’t sure what to make of it, after the fiasco with the Cleganes not so long ago.

He left his heavy wife to rest for the day, the Maester wished for her to remain in bed until she gave birth. Tywin no longer held an office, but worked as an advisor, a demotion that left him little room to complain, he had just as much power now as any lord, and the slight sent him reeling, though there was little he could currently do, as he knew he was being punished for the crown he put on Alysanne’s head, something he would do again if given the chance to go back.

Queen Rhaella appeared in a swirl of red and black silk, looking out of place in her own house's colors. "Lord Lannister." She greeted, "There is something we must discuss." She seemed healthier since the birth of her second son, but still far too pale and wane.

Tywin offered his arm for escort, and he guided them through the gardens. Varys no doubt has his little birds watching them. Five servants had been publicly executed the first week that the King returned to King's Landing, and from what his spies whispered, there was a much larger body count behind closed doors. "Yes, my queen?" Lord Lannister asked as they took a leisurely stroll.

Her voice was soft, lyrical yet aged beyond her years, "The King has grown wary of those around him. My chambermaid was burned to death yesterday, a spy according to Varys." He saw then why she seemed so wide eyed, rumor had it Rhaella never chose to change her servants, they were closer to her than family. 

Tywin kept his face neutral, even though the woman had been a spy in his employ, one who it took years to win over, which meant that the Spider was growing more bold, and the king as well if she had been burned alive instead of quietly killed. "I am not allowed to be alone with my son, while his nursemaid must prove that her teats do not have poison on them before the prince may eat." Rhaella continued in a whisper.

"The King is simply mindful of the prince's safety, my queen." Tywin replied dismissively, he was without power in this court, yet she sought to use him anyways. "After what Lord Darklyn put his majesty through, one could hardly blame him." Rhaella fixed him with a cold stare in response.

"Of course, as he is with his sister." Rhaella replied, and for a moment Tywin felt a threat in her words. "Funny, that your wife and daughter's rooms are in the Maidenvault, no? Yet you reside on the other side of the keep, to be readily available for the King." His office was just outside, as well as his personal rooms. What Tywin had written off as a power play, a way of keeping them slightly apart, but not so much that one could complain, was suddenly a real plot. King Baelor had wed his sisters, and trapped them within to keep himself from temptation, hence how it got the name: Maidenvault.

"Yet Princess Alysanne spends her nights in the Royal Apartments, warming her husband's bed." Tywin bit back, letting his ire show for but a moment before he was a blank slate once more.

The queen was silent for a moment, as if ready to contractice him, and when she made sure there was no one nearby, she whispered, "Aerys dreams of being Aegon the Conqueror the come again, a true dragon with a harem of sister-wives. Diana needs to leave this city, Alysanne as well." There was a true concern in her face, but Tywin knew the ploy well enough.

"And leave you as the only powerful woman in court, with a son who has yet to have an heir by his Lannister wife, the daughter you could not have." Tywin shook his head, "You are truly foolish, Queen Rhaella, if you believe that outwardly displaying your hatred of your sister for years will suddenly ring false with a single cry of worry."

The queen stared blankly at him for a moment, and tears welled her eyes. "I have envied my sister for years, and I have been cold towards her, but never have I hated her." It was an unsettling gaze that she placed upon her, simply because it reminded Tywin of Diana, of how resigned she look sending yet another raven to her sister with the expectation of receiving no response.

"Your sister would believe differently, as well as the rest of the realm." Tywin bit back, and would have continued if a servant had not appeared before them in the gardens, seemingly searching for someone.

"Lord Lannister! Lord Lannister!" The boy was no more than ten, a page with the sigil of house Redwyne, a nephew of the Lord of the Arbor, taken in as his page last year. "The Lady Lannister has gone into labor, and is demanding her lord husband!"

Queen Rhaella said nothing, only frowned and waved her hand in dismissal as she walked away from Tywin and the Redwyne lad. "Take me to my wife." Tywin commanded, and they set off the Maidenvault, a place Tywin slowly began to hate.

Chapter Text

Diana was not sure what to think, staring into the eyes of the three eyed raven. As she rose from the bed she lay in, there was no pain, only an echo of the world around her that seemed so distant in that moment. Her husband's snarls to the Maester, the wail of her newborn babes as they met the day. She was wearing a black and red dress, the last gift her Grandfather ever gave her, and she swore that in that moment, she was dreaming while awake. Looking back, she could see herself, eyes closed and skin white, blood soaking her waist and Pycelle's hands as he frantically called for the help of his apprentice, to bring this medicine and that needle. The raven cawed at her, and numbly, she followed the wandering bird out of the Maidenvault.

They swept through the hallways of the Red Keep, and into the Throne room. Dragon skulls adorned each side of the room, the steep descent of the Iron Throne looming before her, illuminated beneath the light of the stained glass depicted the seven pointed star. A man in a black cloak stood before the throne, his eyes far older than Diana expected, and her heart quickened. "Do you know who I am, little one?" His voice asked, and she bristled. She was thirty four, not a child. But this man, with his high cheekbones and washed out lavender eyes, seemed so familiar, yet so ancient. He stared up at the seven pointed star in disgust before turning to her again.

After a moment, Diana realized she was speaking to the kin of her ancestor, "How many eyes does the Bloodraven have, my lord?" She sang softly, "A thousand eyes and one, my lord, a thousand eyes and one."

Brynden Rivers smiled at her then, "It has been a long time since a true dragon has been born, one with the sight." He walked toward her then, and held out his hand. She took slow, sure steps toward her relative, wary of a ghost long passed. Her fingers barely brushed his palm when the Bloodraven tightened his grip, red eyes boring into her. And suddenly, everything was on fire. Green lit up around them and as Diana blinked the smoke from her eyes, she saw Aerys, his hair and fingers even longer and his eyes more deranged, screaming for more fire. 

"Fire and blood, sweet sister!" His voice hissed, and she saw a toddler walk into the room, shrieking with horror at the sight of the flames. "A true dragon does not fear flames! Your whore mother bedded that knight, you are no dragon!" The child's screams increased as the king threw the child into the pyre, slamming down by the throat onto a piece of sharp wood, the blood dripping down onto a red dragon egg, her red dragon egg , which seemed to hiss with every drop that landed on it. In horror, Diana stared at the child with Valyrian features, he was no more than three name days. Was this the fate of her child, for her? To be burned alive, to be put into a pyre?

The cold skin of Brynden's fingers left her grasp, and a sob fell out of Diana's mouth before she could stop it. "You have the sight, Diana. There are somethings that must be seen." He watched her reaction, giving her no signs of remorse, only steadfast acknowledgement.

"I have to stop it!" She cried, turning to him in desperation, "Why show me things I cannot stop? I saw my grandfather burn!" Her tone was filled with venom, her eyes held tears. Was he who showed her that as well?

"Summerhall was Aegon's own doing, he chose that path, you merely saw the consequences of it. What I have shown you now can be prevented, but the gods will only exchange a life for a life. There are two lives destined to be lost in the future. I have shown you, it is up to you to change who those two are, but I warn you, but trying to change fate, one often causes it." The Bloodraven warned her.

Diana only stared at him for a few beats, "Why are you showing me this?" She asked after an eternity of silence. Pressing him for information, her fingernails biting into her palms.

"I swore to my brother on his dying breath that I would look after his kin, and now I look after you, your siblings, and your children and nephews." Brynden replied easily, honestly softening his words.

"Will my sister ever forgive me?" Diana asked, her eyes hopeful. She missed Rhaella, though they had not been close in years. Part of her wondered if she was at fault, should she have married a lord in King’s Landing, supported her against their brother, been there for each loss. But instead she felt scorned, Rhaella had turned her back on her, so why should she not do the same? But the guilt was all encompassing.

"When she has a daughter of her own, all will be forgiven." The Bloodraven replied, and began to lead her back to the Maidenvault, "Your walk with the Stranger is coming to an end, Princess Diana." She stumbled then, no one had called her a princess in years and suddenly, she opened her eyes and there was Tywin, her beloved Tywin, threatening to gut the Maester himself should she die. Diana smiled and closed her eyes again.

Chapter Text

Alysanne was a Lady of Lannister and a Princess of the house Targaryen, in more ways than one. She was fire and blood, a silver lioness, the envy of every lady at court. She had wed her childhood sweetheart, who wrote such sweet songs to her that she would weep, openly weep alongside everyone who heard it. Yet the tiara on her head was heavy, the eyes sweeping her always so sharp. 

She had been wed for over half a year, yet had bedded her husband less than a handful of times. When they would lay together, he would pepper her body with kisses, touch her with such a grace and gentlemanly manner that she felt priceless. But those moments were fleeting, often accompanied by heavy amounts of wine. Aly had never met her grandfather but from the stories she had heard, she wondered if that was how he treated his whore. Rhaeger showered her with jewels, fine dresses and sweet words, he made love her with reverence, but never as much as she wanted. 

Alysanne needed a child by him, her sweet silver prince, she needed to do her duty to her family and the realm. She needed to prove to herself that she was doing the right thing, having wed Rhaeger despite the lack of warmth in his eyes. He gazed at her with love, it was true, but with no passion. King Aerys, both her uncle and good father, was happy to send Rhaeger away at every opportunity, the latest being a wedding of a lady of Hightower. Ever since the Dance, there had been no Hightower Queen and Rhaeger would never betray her with one, she knew. 

But still, the day his horse rode through the gates, her moonsblood appeared and she wept. Aly loved her new siblings, honestly, truly. But a part of her raged with the thought that she should have birthed them, she should be the new mother, not her own mother with a daughter grown.

She found herself avoiding her parents and instead spending time with the Queen. Alysanne rationalized it as preparing for when the crown would fall onto her own head but if she were honest with herself, it was for the solace of a similar soul. Rhaella longed for a nursery full of children, her own or her son’s, it mattered not. Her dear aunt and good mother was wan as of late, face white and eyes sunken in.

Prince Viserys was nearing two name days and was such a sweet child, though he also made her heart ache. Rhaella was sitting with him on her lap, surrounded by half the Kingsgaurd, including Ser Barristan, her ever loyal shadow. 

Rhaella smiled at her, softly and with warning and when she was already noticed by all she realized who was also there. King Aerys scowled at her, “Did my son fuck you enough yet?” His tone was scathing and she resisted a flinch. 

“Our marriage bed is constantly warmed, your grace.” Aly said as a way of greeting, dropping into a low curtsy before slowly rising, keeping her eyes on Viserys, who was squirming in his mother’s now tight grip. “I will allow your graces time together as a family.” 

She moved quickly to make an exit, barely hearing Aerys mutter, “Perhaps I should fuck you again, get a child before that worthless lion proves to be barren, the dragon must have three heads.” Alysanne walked quicker, pretending she didn’t hear the screams of Rhaella that followed.

Chapter Text

Diana had made a habit of entering the Godswood at least once a week after the small sapling had been planted, courtesy of the Starks. She came to water the budding tree, nursemaid and twins in tow. It felt strange to have two new babes to take care of after so many years, she felt so young and so old at the same time. Sitting beneath the weirwood with a freshly carved stern face, she pondered the Bloodraven's words. 

Two lives lost, in the end it would be her that caused them. When though? Already, the king grew more and more unstable, he refused to leave the Red Keep for anyone or anything. Instead he sent Rhaegar, ensuring that his son was left without children of his own, another way to slight her husband and herself, she was sure, after forcing the wedding on Rhaegar in exchange for remedying the Duskendale situation.

Aerys had been leering at her more and more often, he was so bold as to enter the room while she nursed her children, stating she would have made an excellent royal broodmare, unlike their useless sister. Diana's blood went cold at his words, as well as his lust filled stare. Servants whispered of how Rhaella's screams filled the hallways as the king took his husbandly rights.

The queen grew colder towards her as well, her blank expression always hovering over Diana, never actually looking at her. She wondered how everything went so wrong since they were children, raised in the royal nursery together. Perhaps it was the wood's witch Lady Jenny brought to court, who told the children tales before the entire court, of how they would hatch dragons and bring forth the Prince that was promised, prophecies told in the form of flattering tales.

She had thought it a tale of a far flung future, something their descendants would accomplish, but now, with the vivid dream of the Blood Raven still rattling her head, she was not so sure.

The red leaves rustled in the wind as Diana sat beneath the trees, enjoying the solace. She closed her eyes, replaying her dreams in her head, trying to make sense of riddles. "My Lady." A simpering voice greeted, and Diana bristled at the intrusion, primarily that she did not hear anyone else approach.

"Lord Varys, what a pleasant surprise." Diana replied to the Spider, "I did not imagine you to be a follower of the Old Gods." Part of why she enjoyed visiting was because it was always empty.

The silk garbed man smiled softly, and gestured to the open seat beside her on the small stone bench, and Diana nodded her permission for him to sit next to her. "I serve no gods, only the realm." The Spider replied easily, a practiced smile offered. She liked to imagine what the High Septon thought of that, she held no love for him or the Spider.

"And the realm thanks you for it, I am sure." Diana stated flatly, "What do I owe the pleasure of your company?" He was perfumed, and the strong smell of lavender flooded her nose, she tried to keep her face neutral despite the wave of nausea at the scent.

"A warning, Lady Lannister." The Spider implored, and he looked into the face of the heart tree before them. "Prince Rhaegar seeks an heir, born of ice and fire; some say he sees it in his dreams." He glanced at her knowingly, and Diana resisted the urge to stiffen. It was no secret that she had dreams, the extent of them, however was. 

"Dragons have dreamed of the song of ice and fire for years, none have made it come true though." Diana replied flippantly, "He shall have his heir when he returns from the Hightower." How it was the Mormonts managed to arrange for a Hightower lady, Diana would never be sure. Some say the Lady Lynesse was no maiden, so she was given to a bear as a last resort. Still, it was a Northern wedding, and the chance for Jaime to be seen publicly with his betrothed. 

Her heir and spare had spent a moon in Harrenhal and two weeks in Winterfell, before they traveled with the Starks to Old Town to see Ser Jorah wed. In a fortnight, her sons would return, with the prince who traveled as a representative for the royal family, who had asked Aly to remain behind for his mother’s sake.

"The Lady Alysanne is surely as fire-filled as her princely husband, though." Varys simpered, his eyes tracing the sky of leaves above them. "So how could ice come into play?" His words pulled a memory to the forefront of her mind, of Brandon as a lad of eleven swinging a stick that he had dubbed Ice, after his family's ancestral sword.

"Prince Rhaegar has taken a Northern mistress?" Diana asked softly, as if the words burned her tongue. Her thoughts raced a mile a minute, he wouldn’t dare…would he?

"No," He replied simply, "Or at least not yet. That is all I can say, my lady. My birds take a bit to fly from such a distance.” 

Diana was not sure if she should thank the Eunuch or strangle him, so she simply nodded mutely. When Rhaegar returned to King's Landing, he needed to put a child in Alysanne's belly, or a bastard would be born soon enough. And no prophecy was worth the end of the Targaryen dynasty, or the birth of a Blackfyre. But most of all, no shame was worth laying on her sweet Aly’s shoulders.

Chapter Text

When Jaime met his betrothed for the first time, he was awestruck. A wild mane of chocolate colored hair fell down her back, barely tamed by a simple northern style, with a long face and steel grey eyes, Lyanna was a beauty indeed. She was no simpering lady, with ulterior motives hidden beneath honeyed words, she was a rare, true beauty.

Yet she had taken one look at him and his cocky smile, and glared at her eldest brother with disdain. "My lady, you are a vision." He greeted, and she scoffed at him. His heart sank slightly but if anything, he wanted her more because of it, for who in his pampered life had ever scoffed at the heir of Lannister?

"I have no wish to marry a southerner, my lord." Lyanna spat at him, curseying slightly so that those watching from afar would see an amicable meeting and he frowned for a moment at her.

"I am more a Westerner than a Southerner, my lady." Jaime quipped, "A northern girl was not who I expected for a bride, but my father was happy with the alliance, and my mother does love playing her games." He tried another easy smile but she fixed him with a baleful state.

"What game is that?" Lyanna asked him, still cold but by the way Brandon was smiling encouragingly next to him, he knew he had broke the ice, Lyanna was intrigued.

"The game of thrones, as well as matchmaking." He replied, "She insisted that the next Lady Lannister not be a simpering southern maiden." Her eyebrow arched, and he grinned at her. His mother was right, she was a lady of steel, more Warrior than Maiden. He loved his sister and her friends, but they were all so soft, so spoiled, yet Lyanna was wild, humble and beautiful in a way he had never seen.

"And you, my lord? What are your expectations for your bride?" Lyanna interrogated, stepping closer to him, as if she were to poke his chest before she thought better of it. Jaime smothered a grin.

"A lady wife should be willing to fulfill her duties." Jaime said bluntly, and when she did not seem to like the answer, he elaborated, "I must continue my line, of course. But when my Father meets the Seven, I shall need someone to help me run the West. My Mother makes matches for bickering bannerman, visits the poor in the city, runs the household, and serves as my father's chief councilor. I would ask the same of my wife. I do not want a woman to lie about in silks, I want someone to help me run the west, continue it’s glory."

She seemed pleased with his answer, for silks were not her preference. "And if I were to keep the Old Gods?" The use of personal pronouns had him grinning at her, she was agreeing.

"The godswood in Casterly Rock is quite beautiful, Lady Lyanna." Jaime replied easily, enjoying the slight blush that crossed her cheeks at the use of her name. 

"Jaime and his family have visited the godswood with me many times, even in King's Landing." Brandon piped up then, "Except Lord Tywin, of course. Lady Diana has to drag him to the Sept as it is."

They all laughed at the jape, imagining his slim mother dragging a powerful man by the ear to the Sept of Baelor, which Jaime had bore from his Aunt Genna, who enjoyed twisting his own ear. Brandon continued to gush about the Godswood, how while it was not as grand as the one in Winterfell, the presence of the Old Gods sang through the leaves.

Seeing Lyanna begin to grow bored of her brother’s rambling, Jaime asked, "May I escort you to the ceremony, my lady?" They were to head to the Sept soon, a smaller ceremony for the Old Gods would later that evening since Ser Jorah was a Mormont, and they kept the Old gods while Lady Lynesse and the Hightowers worshiped the seven. And, as rumor had it, the Hightowers were footing the bill for the entire celebration.

Lady Lyanna nodded to her betrothed, and they walked outside the tent. Brandon and Jaime's horses were tied nearby, and Lyanna looked at them with envy. His friend had told Jaime of how his father insisted his sister ride in a carriage, and not atop a horse to meet her betrothed. The twin black steeds were large, powerful beasts that any rider would be proud of, the descendants of the breeding pair Rickard Stark had sent for Diana and Tywin's wedding present.

"Would you like to meet Brightheart, my lady?" Jaime asked, the name being a nod to both his paternal house sword. Lyanna nodded, and stroked the nose of the horse. Brightheart snickered at the lady, and allowed her to feel his mane.

"He is beautiful." She whispered in awe, "A fine mount for any man, my lord."

A thought struck him then, and before he could think it through, he simply exclaimed, "A fine mount for any lady as well, he is yours." Her gray eyes widened and she attempted to refuse, but Jaime shook his head. "Your father gave his parents to mine own, and now I return the favor as a gift to my betrothed. I broke him myself, I would see you on no other horse as we travel to Harrenhal for my brother's wedding."

Lyanna grinned at him then and allowed him to place his hands on her hips to help her mount, although it was clear she needed no help. She took the horse around in a small circle, gauging the steed’s reaction to her. Jaime was already in love, watching her command the horse.

In the distance, Rhaegar watched them, a frown marring his features. The two looked sort of alike, Jaime had a hint of silver in his gold hair, but was a head taller than his cousin. Lyanna beamed at him, and Jaime failed to notice the jealous look cast at him when she did, too distracted by the beautiful northern girl before him. Tomorrow, once the wedding was complete, they would head to Harrenhal to see Daemon wed, before traveling to Casterly Rock for their own wedding.

They continued walking out of the tents set up outside of the tourney yard that had been set up for the wedding, and headed into the castle, towards the sept. As Jaime witnessed the wedding of Jorah and Lynesse, he imagined his own wedding, and the lion cape that would drape Lyanna's shoulders in a few short moons. When Lyanna gripped his hand in her own, it took everything he had not to stand up and marry her right then.

Chapter Text

Tywin felt ten pounds lighter as he rode to the Riverlands, his lady wife beside him. The twins were six moons old, barely old enough to travel, which left them running a fast past to get to Riverrun in time for Brandon Stark's nuptials. 

Though the boy was like a son to his wife, his time in King's Landing during his fostering in Casterly Rock left him with less of a bond between them. Still, the loyalty of the Starks had been assured, the fostering opening a segway into a betrothal. The North was wont to stay in the North, but Lord Rickard was ambitious, something he was sure Diana only fed into. The Lord of the North and the Lady of the West exchanged letters every moon for years, though this was the first time they would meet face to face since Diana’s wedding. 

Diana had forgone the elaborate carriage he had commissioned for her after their wedding, choosing to ride Dark Sister as a means of keeping a tight pace. The normal journey to the Riverlands, carriage and all, would take a fortnight, but with the minimal retinue and only horses, they would be there in a day or so, having already been riding for a week.

He was not surprised to see banners of a snarling direwolf and a leaping trout ride out to greet them, a small escort for important guests was custom. However, the grim faces of Rickard and Brandon Stark leading the men were not who he expected to see. A moment later, a shock of red hair rode beside them, wearing scaled armor as dark as pitch, the Blackfish rode with them.

Diana seemed pale beside him, a feat considering her ivory skin. "Something is wrong." She murmured, and her eyes cast towards the small retinue of guards, Tywin Surefoot moving closer to the servants who carried the twins towards the back of the small group. The Lannister lord could only nod, waiting for the riders to approach.

"Lord and Lady Lannister." Lord Rickard greeted, and a large black horse with a rider in full golden armor broke through the formation. Jaime was a decent rider, his large horse breaking through the men easily, his green eyes glinting with rage.

"He is as mad as his father!" Jaime spat, and nods from the Northern Men abound. Tywin was unsure of who he meant for a moment, but his wife looked at her son with cold understanding.

"Rhaegar." Diana said simply, and Tywin held back a snarl. His wife had warned him of the Spider's words, of how Rhaegar wished for a mistress of ice to accompany his wife of fire, Diana had seemed eager to speak with her nephew, perhaps talk some sense into him, but they had arrived too late. Why couldn't he had taken an Umber, or a Mormont? The wrath of the Starks and the Tullys would rain down upon the royals now, and Tywin was eager to throw his own men into the fight, had it not been his daughter who was lined up to be Queen. 

"My sister has been taken against her will!" Brandon snarled, "Her tent was ransacked, and Arthur Dayne and Rhaegar Targaryen are nowhere to be found!"

Was he that much of a fool? To risk everything Tywin had plotted, for a prophecy? Tywin spent years dealing his wife’s so-called visions, the only thing he could ever truly dislike about her. But Rhaeger, who was assured his crown since birth, to do such foolish things in the name of a dream? He wanted to rage, to leave a path of destruction, but his wife's hand reached out, her doe skin gloves covering the hand that he held the reins of his horse in, her deep purple eyes looking at him intently.

"My nephew has been accused of heinous crimes, and like all crimes, he shall be tried in the light of the Seven." Diana offered, though the fire in her eyes spoke to personal justice, the image of Gregor Clegane’s hands burning in a fire alighting her mind.

"Fuck your Seven!" A voice called out, a large lord with a sprawling beard. Northerners were full of cheek it seemed. There was a hum of agreements, a murmuring of nothing good happening when a Stark goes south of the Neck.

"Old or New, the gods preside over a trial." Tywin commanded, "It was your sister that was taken, but my future good daughter and son's betrothed." When Diana pushed her mount forward, he followed. Slowly, Brandon, Rickard, Jaime and Brynden rode to meet the lord and lady lion.

"Start from the beginning." Diana told her son, before flicking her gaze to those around them. It took a moment for Tywin to realize she was looking for Daemon. Tywin wondered if perhaps he had dragon dreams as well, for his second son was the child his wife was closest to. She was still angered that he insisted she be present for the Tully/Stark wedding over Daemon’s, although the plan was to arrive during the tourney afterwards. 

"Lady Lyanna and I had our evening meal together, the two of us as well as Daemon and Lady Rhynda Poole." Jaime told his mother. Tywin thought for a moment on the names, remembering that the Stewards of house Stark had long been a Poole, and while handmaidens were uncommon the further North one went, so ladies often kept companions instead. 

Since his son was not yet wed, it was only proper for other's to eat with him and his betrothed. "I bid her goodnight, as she said she wished to bathe before bed. But this morning, her tent was empty. Lady Rhynda went to fetch servants for the water, but someone knocked her unconscious and hid her in her own tent for the evening!"

“They left Brightroar’s head in her place in the tent.” Rickard rumbled, causing Diana’s eyes to flash with fury. It was she who gifted the horse to Jaime, “Lord Jaime gave it to Lyanna as a betrothal gift.”

Someone had been watching, waiting for the moment Lyanna would be expected to be alone for the evening, undisturbed. Perhaps the prince was no fool, simply mad as the other's claimed. "So where do you ride now, my lords?" Tywin asked Rickard and Brynden. He was surprised to see the Tully men among them, since Brandon did not seem to have wed his bride before riding for his sister.

"To King's Landing, to demand my sister's return and the bastard's head!" Brandon snarled in reply, hearing shouts of here here's from the hundred men following him.

"And how do you think the king will reply when his heir's head is demanded?" Tywin asked flatly. "That he shall present his eldest son to be slaughtered?"

"For the sake of my sister's honor." Brandon replied, and Tywin resisted rolling his eyes. What care did Aerys have for the honor of a Northern girl? His son was either plotting to overthrow him, or the heir of his dreams, depending on the day. Rhaella’s warning surfaced again, one he had dismissed out of jealousy. 

"Have you learned nothing?" Diana's voice surprised them all, the fury in her words. "Honor means nothing to a dragon, only fire and blood. If you tell my brother you wish to end his son's life, he will have your head atop a spike for treason. Your justifications are only threats and whimpers to him."

The Northern men did not seem pleased to hear a Lady speak, especially on the matters of war or politics. "Then what would you have us do, Lady Diana?" Lord Rickard was staring strangely at his wife, as if she were not what he expected. Her riding pants were black, but her shirt was golden, emblazoned with a golden lion and a three headed dragon facing each other. Tywin was used to seeing his wife in her riding clothes, she chose to personally exercise Dark Sister, the old mare was fearsome in her youth, and would only be saddled by himself or his wife, similar to Brightroar.

"I would have Brandon return to Riverrun and marry his Tully bride, while my Lord husband rides for Harrenhal to ensure that Daemon is wed to Lynda Whent, using the cover of the weddings to call the banners." Diana replied, "I shall ride back to King's Landing and attempt to stop the war that is brewing, but if it cannot be stopped, we shall be ready."

They were silent for a moment, before Tywin spoke. "Absolutely not, I shall not have you riding right into what could be trap. You are a valuable hostage, Diana. And Aerys has already burned servants." Another rumble of murmurs, Tywin had to play his cards in just the right order. Stoke outrage without an outright demand for blood.

"Meaning that I will not be killed, I am no servant." She fired back, but there was a haunted look in her eyes, as if she had personally witnessed people burnt alive. "Lord Stark may ride with me, if it pleases you, Lord husband. For it was his daughter and my son who have been slighted. If we do not return within a moon, lay siege to King's Landing."

"Brandon shall wed Catelyn, and bring the Riverlands into the fold, and I shall write to Lord Baratheon, and with his permission, shall wed Lysa to his heir a year early and secure the Stormlands through a fresh union rather than old blood." Brynden spoke then, his calculating eyes casting over them, Steffon was always loyal to house Targaryen due to his mother being a cousin of Aegon the Unlikely. "If there is to be war, we must strike fast to secure our allies."

Tywin nodded to the man, "I shall send Lord Stark and my wife with the fifty Lannister men I have brought with me, and shall instruct my brother to send the might of the Westerlands down the Gold road, should King Aerys refuse to see sense, he shall see the might of the great houses at his doorstep."

'That leaves the Reach, the Vale and Dorne' He thought to himself, the Crownlands would choose the King simply because the lands surrounded his seat. Dorne would likely stay neutral, with the heir of Dorne married to a foreign woman, and the other prince and princess unwed as of yet. Rumor had it that the Princess Elia would marry her cousin, the heir to Firefield, which may work to his advantage, given the Lady of Firefield was his cousin, Johanna. 

The Reach were staunch Targaryen supporters, since their claim to Highgarden came from the establishment of the Targaryen Dynasty. Lord Mace had three sons, Willas, Garlan and Loras, with another child on the way. Visenya was but a babe, leaving only a third son in close age with her, and Diana would throw a fit if he were to barter their daughter to the Reach. But his sister was lady of the Arbor and a Lannister through and through. Genna could secure at least half the houses of the region with her connections.

The Vale had Lord Arryn at its head, who had fostered both Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark, so perhaps a little bit of gold would cement the loyalty of the Eyrie. The old falcon loved those boys as his own, or so he had heard.

"We leave at dawn, Lord Stark." Diana told the grim lord of Winterfell, receiving a nod in response. "Aye, I shall take my second son and a host of fifty men as well." 

Chapter Text

Aemon and Visenya were as the sun and stars to Diana, her third born son inherited her coloring, down to the shade of deep purple in his eyes, while her second daughter was a Lannister through and through, glass bottle green eyes and golden fuzz atop her head. The children did not appreciate being strapped against a servant's chest for the week-long ride into the Riverlands, and were fussy due to it. At six moons, they lay on the furs before the fire and kick their little limbs into the air. 

Tywin did not like how close Diana had grown to the dragon egg before her, placed securely in the flames as soon as her tent was prepared. She carried it with her, in her saddle bag as she rode, a hint of paranoia that a servant would find it and cause rumors of magic, madness or treason. A deep fear had grown in Diana, as she looked to her son and daughter.

 Aerys had burned a Page from a minor crownlands house, simply for mentioning the crown prince's absence at court as of late. He called it treason to speak ill of the royal family, and here they were to ride to the King and demand a trial for his son?

That was why Diana had refused to allow Brandon to join them, using the guise of securing the Riverlands. Robert Baratheon was in Riverrun with his father, her cousin and a dear friend, Steffon could have pushed the wedding of Lysa and Robert up six moons, and secured the Tullys for them. But Brandon was hot headed, wolf's blood they called it, and she knew he would not be able to hold his tongue in his sister's defense. From the whispers gleaned in court, Eddard Stark was who kept Robert Baratheon in line, and a voice of reason was who she needed when facing her brother. 

She would keep the twins in Riverrun, the Tully words were "Family, Duty, Honor" after all, and they would not condone the killing of babes, they would protect her children. The vision of the little boy dying in flames would not be her son, she vowed. 

Diana's thoughts spun around her family these days, especially since Daemon was nowhere to be seen when they rode into the Stark and Tully camp. As if her thoughts summoned him, her tent flap flew open, and both her elder sons walked in. She could not hide the relief in her face.

"Tell her! Tell her what you have done!" Daemon demanded, glaring at Jaime with venom. He was the calmer of her children, his rage surprising her. Visenya began to cry at her brother's shouts, and Diana held her daughter to her chest to soothe her.

"Tell me what?" Diana asked, and Daemon seemed to just then realize that she was not alone in her tent. He knelt onto the fur next to them, and picked up Aemon, who stared at his brother with wide, royal purple eyes.

"Lady Rhynda was not knocked unconscious. She was drunk on the cask of Arbor Gold Aunt Genna sent Lyanna and I as a betrothal gift." Jaime said after a beat of silence. The shame on his face had soured the bravado he had when announcing his betrothed's kidnapping.

"And why was she drunk Jaime?" Diana stared at her eldest, a fire of fury blooming in her eyes. "If you took advantage of a drunken maiden, Jaime, I swear I will geld you myself!" The thought of her perfect son, her heir, doing such a thing would make her lose herself to rage.

"No! No!" Jaime quickly replied, waving his arms for extra emphasis. "Lyanna poured Daemon and Lady Rhynda's glasses, and she watered down our own portions so it seemed as though we were drinking the same amount. A jest, she had said, to allow us to spend time together without others listening and watching."

"I took Lady Rhynda to her chambers, and Jaime told me he was going to check the horses before going to bed." Daemon butted in, the softness he had at looking at his new younger siblings gone as he stared at his elder one.

"I did not leave Lady Lyanna's chambers for a few more hours." Jaime confessed, and the way he would not look his mother in the eyes made her know that was not all.

"Jaime…" Diana started, "What did you two do that evening?" He only blushed in response, and her hands shook. "You deflowered Lyanna Stark?" Her voice was a snarl, her mind reeling.

"We are to be wed!" Jaime quickly defended, "Lyanna is wild, and beautiful, and smart! She wanted to have me for me, not for my title, and…" Diana suddenly feels sixteen again, betrothed to a stranger for his title, yet by Jaime's age, she was in love with Tywin, the man, and not the Lord of Lannister. “We talked, late into the evening, drinking and kissing and then….” 

Diana was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts was like grasping at smoke. What her son did was wrong, she knew, and the lack of maidenhead would need to be explained as a rape on her nephew's part, to save both families face if any rumors were to spread. Yet to save her son from dishonor, she would need to paint more on her nephew. Rhaegar took her future good daughter, and the more time passed, the more she was convinced the Stark girl did not go willingly. "When did you leave her rooms?" She finally said, her neutral tone shocking her children.

"Just after midnight." Jaime replied, "The guards switch shifts then, it's easier to slip in and out." The Lannister cunning was not lost on her eldest, it seemed, though it faulted momentarily at the sight of a northern girl.

"How often do they change shifts?" She asked, rocking her daughter in her arms, the babe was quickly falling asleep. Daemon placed his little brother down, and gestured for his sister.

"Every four hours." Jaime stated, "What are their names?"

Diana smiled at her son, "Visenya was born first, and then Aemon." She thought over Jaime's words, that meant the men switched just before dawn, allowing the Prince to spirit Lyanna away before the sun rose.

"They are beautiful." Daemon spoke, "After the Queen and the Dragonknight?"

Diana shook her head, "The Queen and the Maester. My uncle Aemon joined the Citadel in his youth, and joined the Night's Watch, keeping his vows even when a throne was dangled before him. Your great grandfather rose to the throne because Maester Aemon kept his vows." In such tumultuous times, Diana wanted a reminder of honor, of keeping promises.

"Honor is needed now more than ever." Daemon spat at his brother, and Diana understood his anger then.

"Daemon, what is it?" She stared at her son, and his green-purple eyes alight with fury.

"It's all your fault!" Daemon snarled at his brother, "Rhaegar has had his eyes on Lyanna, he watched you two flirting and whispering, he was green with envy, and you pushed him over the edge!" 

"He married our sister!" Jaime growled back, "He took a vow, and you speak of my honor when he slights our family two fold?" Her eldest had the temper of a Targaryen, that was to be sure. Jaime was a dragon with a lion's mane.

"If she were your wife, he would have no claim!" Daemon argued, and Diana stepped in then.

"What claim?" Diana asked, staring down her middle son. Varys's words rushed through her head, ice and fire.

"Rhaegar visited the library in Bear Island, his Kingsguard following in his shadow." Daemon replied, his eyes burning, "He was looking into the legends of the First Men, and asked after legends pertaining to ice, but the Maester only knew of the Song of Ice and Fire."

Daemon always was a lover of reading, and enjoyed traveling with his brother simply because every Keep had final copies of old histories, usually pertaining to their own houses. He was a walking Maester of long forgotten histories.

"Why was he looking into prophecies?" Jaime asked, "Lyanna is a Stark, not a grumpkin."

"Because the Song of Ice and Fire tells of the Prince that was promised, forged in Fire and Ice." Diana said with a hint of fear in her voice, her eyes staring into the fire and her egg within. "A bride of Fire and a bride of Ice."

"He can't think of marrying my betrothed!" Jaime snarled, "And Alysanne will not accept being a sister-wife!" Her daughter had dreamed of being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not a consort to a man with a queen from each kingdom.

"Jaime, you are staying in Riverrun." Diana said suddenly, "Daemon, you shall ride to Harrenhal tomorrow and marry Lynda Whent, Lannister gold rebuilt that keep, and Lannister soldiers will flock there disguised as wedding goers." 

"Mother!" Both boys shouted at once in protest but she only raised her hand to silence them, never taking her eyes off of her egg.

"Jaime, I need you to watch after your siblings, I will not give my heir as a hostage." Diana replied sourly.

"So you would give yourself instead? And what of Alysanne?" Daemon questioned, ever the clever one.

"Alysanne is princess of Dragonstone, it is time she traveled there, the island serves as a fortress, but has few men. I shall send her with enough men to overwhelm loyalists to my brother." Diana stated, "Aerys knows to kill me is to bring death to his house, I am simply giving him a way out, a valuable hostage to exchange for his own life should things turn for the worst. Besides, Lord Stark shall be with me, and he is not enough of a fool to openly disrespect a Warden’s son before the court." He might a page but not an heir, she reasoned. It would bring the North, Riverlands and Westerlands down upon the court. Aerys would never be so foolish, so mad….would he?

Chapter Text

Tywin stared down at the Targaryen seal in red wax, he had broken it, yet paused when he saw his wife's feminine, loopy scrawl. She took her personal seal with her everywhere she went, fashioned in the form of a lion ring she wore on her thumb. It was a sign they had agreed to before she left, her writing, but not her words.

Lord Lannister,

On behalf of my brother the King, I am recalling your heir to my side, to answer to the crimes of insult against the crown. You too, shall arrive, to swear fealty to the true King.

Diana La- Targaryen

There was no sweep of signature at the bottom, no proclamation of titles, it was unnerving. Diana loved to include long proclamations at the end of her letters, naming herself Lady of the Westerlands and of Casterly Rock, yet here she used her maiden name as if she were forbidden to call herself anything other than a dragon. The way she had begun to title herself a Lannister yet was marked out spoke volumes.

Someone had watched her pen the letter, had told her exactly what to say and how to say it. Jaime was her son, not his heir. She loathed when Tywin would, as Diana put it, force him to become his heir before the boy was fully grown. Tywin had been forced to act as a true lord of Lannister for years before he was ready, he wanted his son prepared for when it was his turn to take the title. 

Diana was in danger, he had warned her and she had not listened. He cursed her in his mind, but himself more for not stopping her. She was his , his wife, his beloved Lady and how she was in Aerys’ mad clutch.

Brandon Stark lunged into Tywin's tent, a week's ride from Harrenhal, still in his riding clothes. Riverrun was a three day ride from here, and it seemed he wasted no time in gathering the host of the Riverlands and marching them here after his wedding. "What is this?" The Stark heir spat, holding a letter with a Direwolf seal. Tywin took the parchment and read it, revealing the same words Tywin was given, only Lord Rickard, it seemed, was demanding Brandon come to swear fealty to the Iron throne, and bring Robert Baratheon to answer for crimes of insult to the crown as well.

"The King has overstepped," Tywin said flippantly, silently watching Brandon steam as Sandor entered the tent with the Lord's dinner. The entire camp was on edge it seemed, and Tywin had already ordered a thousand Lannister soldiers to march up the gold road, they would intersect them with the forces of the Riverlands and answer the King's request of fealty with a force of their own, and demand the return of Lady Lannister and Lord Stark. 

"We make demands through his captives, the guard has been sent to the Black Cells, as well as your father." Tywin had spent a good sum of gold for that information, but it was worth every stag. His wife was in the Maidenvault with her sister and daughter, and the information chilled him to the core. Aerys did not think of her as a Lannister, despite the years of their marriage, he saw her as a Valyrian woman, as a Targaryen, ready to be wed back into the family fold.

"I want his head!" Brandon raged, and Sandor snorted at him. "Have something to say, Hound?" The Clegane heir curled his lip at the Stark heir but said nothing else. The nickname came from both his house sigil and fierce loyalty to Jaime, his little guard dog.

"You cannot just decapitate the King of Westeros." Tywin replied, "Not before a trial, that is."

"Like the one Rhaegar was supposed to have?" Brandon bit back, irritating Tywin to no end.

"We ride into the Red Keep tomorrow, Brandon. We must keep an even head." The Lord of Lannister reminded the brute. He poured a glass of Arbour red for each of them. Inside the cask of wine they received was the answer Tywin had been waiting for, the Redwyne fleet had set sail to Stormbreaker Bay, to reinforce the Stormlands while also leaving the Reach vulnerable should they need to attack. Already, Highgarden was pulling their grain stores, preparing supply wagons for battles to come. There was no cry for war, but whispers had caused frantic actions for it.

Chapter Text

Diana did not leave the room she was placed in for four days. Her entire body seemed to vibrate with the lack of fresh surroundings, she was caged and she loathed it. She paced back and forth in front of the hearth, her dragon egg causing leaping shadows around her. Lately her dreams had been of a red dragon, she blamed her room. It was covered with the Targaryen symbol everywhere she looked, red dragons on the curtains, the bed spread, the walls, even her dresses. 

The fact that none of her old dresses made it to her room irked her, the black and crimson gowns she was left with were low cut and ostentatious, the unfamiliar guards' gazes had wandered down her chest too many times in these silks. She had been surprised they had left her egg, but not any of the trunks she had arrived with. Her breasts ached, full of milk and taught against the revealing gowns.

On her fifth day of captivity, it was the Spider who appeared to her. His simpering face hid a sly smile that made her skin itch. "Princess Diana." Varys greeted, "The King wishes you to write to Lord Lannister."

"And tell him of how I am locked in the Maidenvault as if I were a princess of old?" Diana bit back, her temper rising. She hated the Spider, he wreaked of incense and perfumed smiles, she had no time for him but wanted any information he would give.

"To tell him that he must swear fealty to the king, and present his son for the crime of insulting the crown." The Spider replied flippantly.

"And if I refuse?" She tested. The Spider did not seemed, rattled, lion or dragon, it not matter how she roared.

"Then Princess Alysanne is to be gelded." The words slid from him like silk, and her blood went cold.

"She is the next Queen of Westeros." Diana replied tartly, "Aerys would not dare." But then again, she had comforted herself on the ride to King’s Landing that he would never harm her, either.

"The King has formed quite a distaste for the Princess, something about having dirty Andal blood." He shrugged, "He seems to think quite highly of you though. No, you aren't to be harmed, if you misbehave, your daughter shall bear the beating."

Her hands trembled as she scrawled the message on the scrap of paper the Master of Whispers provided her, and she reluctantly began to sign her name, "You are a Targaryen, Princess. The King would not be pleased to see you label yourself otherwise." 

Not once had her marriage been recognised, and it sent a jolt of fear through her. She married into the West for protection, and it was being denied to her. They left her alone in her chamber for another week, until the King himself appeared.

"Sweet Sister." His voice crooned, it was barely past dawn, she had not even risen for the day when he barged into her room. "How lovely you look." His eyes raked over her thin nightgown, and she shivered. These clothes, too, revealed far too much compared to what she normally wore. 

"Your grace, allow me to dress and we may speak." She tried to keep her voice even, but a week of isolation had rattled her. Diana missed her home, her husband and her babes, both grown and just born.

"No need to dress, it is not as if you were a maiden." He laughed at his own bluntness, and Diana knew something horrible was about to happen, the chill in the air was not due to a lack of a fire. "No matter, you are a bride fit to bear heirs nonetheless."

"What?" The word fell from her mouth, and the hungry gaze he pinned her with made her cold. "I am already married, Aerys. And you have been wed to Rhaella for longer than I have been Lady Lannister."

His palm struck her cheek the moment the name was spoken. "Do not speak that traitor's name! He stole you from me, all those years ago, but not again." Aerys stared at her with a rage that only seemed to grow. Madness danced in him as he grabbed her by the scalp, tears stinging her eyes. "Your marriage has been dissolved by the crown. And you shall be a widow soon even if not.” His yellowed fingernails sliced into her hairline, she winced.

Diana could not breathe, she could not even think. Her brother pinned her to the bed, enjoying the feeling of her shaking body. ' Tywin, I want Tywin.' She thought to herself, closing her eyes as to not see the horror in front of her. Her brother grabbed at her body through her nightgown, taking liberties only her husband had. Her mind shut down, reminding herself that if she did not comply, her daughter would suffer for it. ‘ Bear it, bear it for Alysanne…Tywin will save me.’ It was all she could think as he forced himself into her, as his mouth bit into her flesh and his fingers pawed at her chest.

The King left Diana's chambers a few hours later, and the silent handmaidens only directed the woman to her bath, leaving her in the water to clean herself. She was sobbing as she cleaned her dirtied skin, scrubbing every inch of herself that she could reach. Bruises bloomed on her hips and wrists, her hair a tangled mess. ' I will burn him to the ground, I will make him pay. Tywin will make the Reynes of Castamere look like child’s play' She vowed to herself.

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She counted the days by marking the wall with a dot of hot candle wax, a moon had passed. A week after the first unholy visit from her brother, Diana had been dragged to the sept, and forced to don a maiden cloak and vow to be her brother's bride. Alysanne looked pale, Ser Whent holding a dragonbone dagger to her slender throat to ensure Diana complied. She constantly told herself this was for Aly, she would do anything for her dear, sweet, firstborn daughter, her silver lady.

Diana was a prisoner, despite the halfhearted Queenship, her only visitor was her sister. She begged her every day to leave, to run to Dragonstone and hide from her husband. Rhaella always refused, her hand placed over the swell of her belly. With the true Queen with child, Aerys had focused his sexual and physical pursuits on Diana. The acts, while horrid in nature, led to Rhaella visiting her sister, allowing them to rekindle their bond. Rhaella did not fully forgive Diana for the past, but they were working on it.

They wept together, often and hard. Rhaella was torn between her sister’s torment and the horrible happiness she found being pregnant, with the surety she felt that this child would be born, that she and her three children would live in peace, it would somehow, someway, cure his madness, that he would let them go. It was a fool’s folly, she knew, but Rhaella clung to it with everything she had. 

Then, one day the horrid routine was broken. She saw the lion banners in the distance when she broke her fast, and almost wept.

A moon's turn had passed, but Tywin had come for her, come to rescue his beloved lady wife. The troops gathered at the entrance of the gold road and the king's road, a flurry of roaring lions, leaping trouts, snarling direwolves, prancing stags and even a few soaring falcons.

A soldier escorted Diana to the throne room after she broke her fast, a servant serving as her handmaiden following and she was surprised to see Aerys atop the Iron throne, looking quite pleased with himself as a pyre was being built in front of him. "Fire and blood." He said easily, gesturing to the wooden contraption before him. "Today, I shall roast the wolves and lions."

"I want my dragon egg." She murmured, and the servant seemed happy to have an excuse to leave the throne room. It was her sole comfort of late. Diana stared at her brother, the hatred she felt consuming her. "If you kill them, their men shall only kill you."

"They cannot kill a dragon!" Aerys snarled, "I shall only rise from the ashes, a beast reborn!" The doors to the hall opened, and members of court entered, what few loyalists remained, mostly because it was too late to flee. Rickard Stark was brought in once the usual faces had appeared, and Diana paled. Rickard had lost at least a third of his weight, his gaunt face revealing the horrors of the Black Cells. His son followed behind him, chained and weak, with Tywin Surefoot following him. Diana wanted to weep, seeing her Sworn shield starved and beaten, yet he only looked at her with such relief, as if he assumed the worst of her own fate. Soldiers strapped the Lord of the North to the pyre, and Aerys stood from his throne. "Allow the traitors in." He commanded, and footsteps sounded in the distance. The servant girl slipped to Diana's side, and the heat of her egg in her hands calmed her. There was a fog in her mind, the sense of deja vu that burned her soul. Two people would die today, she knew.

Tywin walked into the throne room, his eyes searching until they landed on her. He had Brandon Stark, Brynden Tully and Jon Arryn with him, but only stared at her, and the egg in her hands. She wanted to run into his arms, but the guard at her side would never allow it. "Tywin Lannister." Aerys spat, "Have you come to swear fealty?"

"I have come for my wife, and for the release of Lord Stark and his son." Tywin replied with a slight snarl.

Aerys laughed, "Did you not receive the raven? You have no wife. As my ancestors, I have taken my own Rhaenys and Visenya, my sisters and wives, Rhaella and Diana." Rhaella paled at his words and Diana stared at her sister. The room was silent for a beat, until the sound of a sword being drawn was heard.

"How dare you!" Brandon Stark raged, his eyes never leaving his father, who was half dead, tied to a log atop kindling.

"Kill them both!" Aerys snarled to his men, one who went to light the fire while the other raised a sword to Ned's throat.

"Please, your grace." Diana spoke before she could think, her mind racing as she held up her dragon egg, the only thing she could think to offer him. "The life of a dragon is worth more than two servants." She was reluctant to label them so, but the wording would appease her brother.

Aerys grinned at her, "Cut him loose." A moment of relief filled her as Rickard was cut free from the binds and led down to where his son and the other prisoners watched on. Diana looked at her sister, "Please, go to Dragonstone, take your son and run." Rhaella only nodded, and when Aerys motioned Diana forward, Rhaella and her kingsguard Ser Jonothor fled. Diana walked towards him, holding out her egg. Her fingers burned at the thought of giving away her prized possession, but moved nonetheless. When she was right in front of him, Aerys grabbed her arms, his long fingernails cutting her flesh. A nod to Rossart, and the pyre was lit before them. Brandon and Tywin leaped forward, but gold cloaks blocked their way. "Fire and blood." Aerys cackled, and pushed Diana into the flame.

She screamed as she fell backwards, the wooden kindling piercing her back and catching her clothes aflame. The heat burned around her, and her ears rang with the roar of the flames. The smell of her own hair burning filled her lungs, and Diana swore she heard the gods' voices, ' Fire and blood...two lives….fire and blood…" Everywhere she looked, patches of green and red surrounded her, she could not see out. Wildfire was used, it was the only way she could not see the hand in front of her face, but strangely, there was no pain.

A scream filled the room, a grief stricken sound as Tywin slashed his blade through the air, killing man after man as he worked his way to the king, a howl of grief slicing the air.

 "No! I want Father!" A small voice rang through the noise, and a silver head zoomed past the fighting men and a body curled into the king's side. Lost in the flames, Diana realized with horror that it was Prince Viserys, running from his mother who was attempting to take him with her to Dragonstone.

Aerys revealed no sense of kindness to the child, "Bastard!" He snarled at the crying child, he swatted the child, who fell down the stone steps of the trone. "You are no dragon! You have no seed of mine!" Diana's hands reached out in the flames, but it was too late. Viserys crumbled in the fire, his little body burning as the sharp kindling pierced his skull and came out through his eye. Diana stumbled forward, falling on her knees as she watched her nephew's corpse feed the fire that burned around her. Her hands, stained with her own blood, reached to cradle him, and landed on the dragon egg instead. It made an unholy hiss at the contact, ' One more…' It seemed to hiss, ' One more life to make the dragon take flight'

Her feet were cut and bleeding with each step as she stumbled forward, to where her brother stood. Aerys was surrounded by guards, his back to the flame as he yelled commands. "Kill them all! Burn them all!" Rossart was throwing something into the flames, causing the green to overcome the red in the coloring of the flames. Diana could only think of feeding the flames, and grabbed her brother by his overtly long hair, the same way he did when he took her against her will. Using the leverage, she yanked him into the flames, her burning hair setting him alight as she drug his flailing body into the flames. His screams gave her a sick sense of satisfaction, his skin puckering and peeling while hers remained unblemished. 

A cracking sound echoed, and the sound distracted her enough that with his last bit of strength, Aerys pushed his sister further into the flames. She fell on her back, his burning body pinning her down. The madness had left his eyes along with any signs of life.

A screeching noise she had never heard before sounded, and she felt a warm creature slither up her shoulder. She stumbled out of the flames, naked as the day she was born and hair a red flame as the last bits of her once proud silver name smoldered, a baby dragon on her shoulder. “Diana?” Tywin’s broken voice asked in disbelief.

Chapter Text

Tywin had never felt more rage, and more fear, than when he watched his wife be pushed into the flames. He had tried to keep a steady head as insults were thrown his way, he had heard of the farce of a marriage ceremony Aerys forced his wife to perform, and from a Bard no less. His dagger had plunged into the man's throat before Tywin even thought the action through. The words mocked him still, 'Dragons come in mates of three, just ask King Aerys. He took the Lion's bride with steel to royal neck, and now Lady Lannister enjoys the King’s pecks.' The man was paid a large pile of gold from the king to deliver that song, a pity it cost him his life.

Tywin's sword hacked down upon the royal loyalists, his rage boiling over. She was dead, his brightheart, gone. What happened to him did not matter anymore, only securing their legacy. He would go down in history as the man who killed the last Targaryen King, and then he would destroy their house, root and stem, until there was not a reminder of a dragon left in the world, a reminder of her. He did not think he could bear to look upon his daughter, either, who looked so much like her mother when she was young. She would be married to a suitable house, though a modest one. He had no use of a crown, not without his Diana. 

There was chaos around him, Brandon Stark had rushed to his father's side, and was killing the guards who held his kin captive. Tywin only saw red, he killed any Targaryen loyalist around him, and worked his way to the King's guard. Aerys backed himself further away from the fighting, his back growing closer to the flame. Perhaps after his sword pierced the king's heart, he would burn him as well. Yet before he got the chance, a roar came from the fire, an anguished cry that echoed through the hall, and drew the gaze of everyone in the room as the king's screams accompanied the sound. It was Diana, naked as the day she was born, her hair a glow of red flame, as if it were a mane of fire, her hands clawed into her brother's silks and drew them alight. 

The Targaryen soldiers that were left alive dropped their swords with a loud clang as they watched their king burn, his screams dying mid-cry as he died in agony. The Lannisters showed no mercy though, and to the Starks' horror, slaughtered the unarmed men who had surrendered. At the side door to the throne room, one known by few, Tywin saw Rossart attempt to escape. The man who fed the flames that burned his wife, the Pyromancer turned Hand of the King. "Seize him, I want him alive." Tywin spat, and sheathing his bloodied sword, walked towards the dying flames.

Another screech echoed the halls, inhuman and scathing, and from the dying embers, Diana stepped out of the flames once more,unharmed, by whatever god had decided to spare her, a red dragon curled about her breast and shoulder. Her wrists, hips and neck bore hand print shaped bruises, and her purple eyes were glassy. Tywin felt uneasy seeing his wife so exposed, and moved to drape her with his lion cloak. She fell into his arms as he called her name, and the dragon curled around her body to not touch him, and he eyed it warily. He scooped his wife into his arms, and moved to leave the throne room without a word. Everyone stared at Diana's passed out form in his arms, and the baby dragon in her lap.

"Find my daughter, and have her brought to me." Tywin ordered, "Kill any who do not let you pass on my command." Ser Surefoot came rushing forward then, his brown eyes wide and frame thin from weeks of confinement. He draped a bloodied cloak, no doubt taken from a fresh corpse, and draped it across Diana. 

"Is she alright my lord?" They both looked down at Diana, her waist length hair had been burned to the barest bit of fuzz atop her head, the bags under her eyes speaking to her exhaustion, yet her skin remained unburnt from the flame, the aging of the bruises though, gave him fresh fury.

"She has nearly died," Tywin bit out defensively, and watched the young man flinch back. He knew it was not Tywin Surefoot's fault, but the man responsible was dead, by Diana's own hand. Tywin hid the shaking of his own palms with a tight grip upon his wife.

The Lord of Lannister brought his wife to the guest chambers inside the Red Keep, not trusting her to be comfortable in the Maidenvault, royal chambers, or tower of the Hand, weary of what memories she now held of those locations. Tucked into white sheets, Diana seemed even more pale, the soot on her body blackening the blankets. Right after his wife had been settled in, the dragon eyed Tywin as he curled about his wife's neck and prepared to sleep with her. He still hadn't quite processed that his wife had hatched a dragon, a feat that had not been achieved in generations, that she had survived the flames. That he had allowed her to be placed into them, to bear the horrors of the former mad king. 

He did not have the time to think on it though, when the doors opened and Alysanne rushed in, wearing a black dress with the red three headed dragon on the hem. She seemed paler than he remembered as well, her eyes no longer bearing the rose colored glasses of innocence. She knew she was not married to the prince of her dreams, and Tywin felt in that moment that he had truly failed her, for she pinned him with such a look of relief at his presence.

 "Father!" She rushed forward, clinging to him in an embrace, tears openly falling. "Thank the seven you're here!" Alysanne seemed to just then notice her mother's char covered skin, and the resting dragon at her neck. Alysanne’s hand flew to her own and he saw the healing knicks from a dagger. How many times had a knife been held to her throat? 

She jumped back and seemed so fearful in that moment, he wanted to hold her as if she were still a child. "Is that a…?" Her voice was shaking, "What happened, father?" Tywin stared at her, drank her in, his precious daughter. All thoughts of marrying her to a vassal lord disappeared, she needed to be safe, protected.

"The Mad King tried to burn your mother alive." He spat, and she gaped at him. "But she burned him instead, and her egg was in the flames. The house words are fire and blood, I suppose now we know why."

"She was a sight, my lady." Surefoot said then, "A burning lion, Lady Brightheart burned the Mad King alive!" Alysanne stared at him, trying to comprehend the information. Tears shone in her eyes.

"Aly," Tywin spoke to his daughter then, "What has happened, since your mother and the Starks were taken prisoner?" Rumors swirled, he needed to know how many knights to bloody on his sword, how many ladies to send to the silent sisters in revenge for his family. 

She was loath to speak of it, her words short and clipped. "The King said my Andal blood made me unfit to be Queen after he passed, so he declared an annulment of your marriage, and refused to see me as anything other than a bastard. I was confined to the duties of Queen Rhaella's handmaiden, and whenever the King thought mother was being uncivil, he would have the kingsguard beat me or…!" Her voice quickly turned into a sob, she did not wish to look too unseemly in front of her father, but her experiences left her shaken. The horrors haunted her, the sight of her mother repeatedly telling her it was okay when it was not.

"I'll have them all drawn and quartered." Tywin vowed, ruthless as he stared at his wife's frail form in bed.

"If the King is dead, does that mean Rhaegar is king now, and I am Queen?" Alysanne asked, and Tywin stared her down with a dark look.

"Do you wish to be Rhaegar's Queen?" He asked dryly, and was rewarded with a revolted look, good.

"Father, I want to go home!" Alysanne practically sobbed, "I miss Casterly Rock, I hate it here! The Capital is filthy and smells of shit!" Her language surprised him, but he did not comment on it.

"Then you shall return home, and once you are widowed, you may spend a year at the Rock recuperating." Tywin replied. The gears in his head turned, he stared at his wife. He failed to protect her, he needed to protect his daughter, now.

"A year, what do you mean?" Her violet eyes stared at him, a light lavender.

"A year will be an appropriate amount of time for you to recover, and remarry, ensuring that any child produced is by your new husband." Tywin replied with ease, as if he were discussing the weather. But his daughter only gaped at him, and then left the room in a huff. The Lannister lord only shrugged, and resume his vigil beside his wife and her baby dragon. Aly would be angry with him now, but he would assure she was never slandered or abused again. 

For now though, he thought as he held his wife’s hand and listened to the screams as the city was taken by his and the Starks’ men, Rhaeger would hear him roar. 

Chapter Text

Diana woke to the sight of her husband half in a chair and half curled into her side, his blonde hair mussed and his worry lined face smooth with sleep. As she sat up, the dragon curled down to her waist, and she stared at the creature with disbelief. It was not all a dream after all, she was not sure if she should weep or be overjoyed. "Brightfyre." She sired the creature with a soft voice, and the crimson dragon preened at the name. Her fingers ran over the baby dragon's scales, warm to the touch. He cawed at her, a strange little squawk to let her know he was hungry, and her stomach growled as well. 'When the Andal Divine bleeds Valyrian blood for the First Men, a dragon will be born' Her mind recalled the prophecy, toying with it in her mind. 

The gods had warned her two would die, and she had tried so hard to ensure it was not her Aemon, only to doom Viserys to a bloody fate. She should have known better, the toddler often came to his mother, telling her of how his father would give him a sweet for pointing to a dragon skull and name the creature correctly. His small voice did not fully wrap the words correctly, but he was ever eager to please his father. Of course he would run to him if he were afraid, and his mother was trying to take him away.

She was so sure Rhaella had forgiven her for the imagined slights of her children after what they had experienced together, but would her sister forgive her now? After she caused Viserys's death? After what she would do today? Diana had hated how much she still loved her sister, despite the misplaced spite directed towards her. But now, the thought that her dragon was born from her sister’s beloved child…the child that grew in Rhaella would live, Diana vowed to herself, Rhaella would have that babe that she was willing to flee king’s landing for.

Tywin sat up next to her with a start, pulling her out of her thoughts. His palms reached out to touch her skin, to brush the fuzz that was left of her hair, to see if she was real, that his beloved wife was awake at last. Green eyes stared at her with such relief she could have melted then and there. "Diana…" Her name was a prayer on his lips, and she kissed him before she could blink. Brightfyre huffed and jumped from her body and curled himself at the edge of the bed. Diana pulled herself out of bed and faced her husband, noting he must have dressed her in the nightgown she now wore. "I had servants bring some dresses you left behind at Riverrun." Her shoulders fell in relief at his words as she went to the wardrobe, eyes nearly tearing at the sight of a black dress with golden lions snarling on the hem and shoulders.

"I want a letter sent to Riverrun, to have Catelyn Tully bring the twins with her to the Red Keep." Diana told her husband. He nodded at her, the River road was a straight shot, under a heavy guard the only hassle they would endure would be the Freys, who would wish for a mighty sum that would end up being Lannister gold, Frey was especially greedy after his son was denied her good sister for a bride.

"She is Catelyn Stark now." Tywin corrected, and tied the laces of the midnight gown she draped on herself. "I shall send the letter myself. For now, we must talk of what is to come." A servant knocked before she could reply, with a plate of food to break their fast with. The maid eyed the baby dragon wearily and bowed deeply with a murmur of “your majesty” which made Diana flinch.

"Have a goat butchered, and the meat cut into strips and brought for Brightfyre." Diana commanded, and resisted another wince as the servant curtsied and called her 'your grace.'

"Brightfyre?" Tywin asked, and the dragon raised his head at the mention of his name. They shared a wry smile, the relief in his eyes was palpable, he continued to keep his hands lingering on her back.

"Like Blackfyre, only he is bright and red." She shrugged, Diana rather liked the name, it simply suited her dragon. “Bright Roar and Black Fyre, our ancestral swords.”

They sat at the chairs before the hearth and picked at the food before them. Nibbling on a strawberry tart, Diana watched her husband pick at a piece of bacon. "Jaime left Riverrun a day after we received your letter. Johanna wrote to me, white knights were seen riding towards Dorne. By now he will be just landing there with a section of the Redwyne fleet."

"What else have I missed?" Diana asked, her months of isolation had left her with little knowledge of the battles fought. "Are the Tyrells still loyal to Rhaegar?"

Tywin's face was grim, "Mace Tyrell has decided not to partake in battle, rather he has laid siege to Storm's End. A few ships have broken the blockade with supplies, but the Redwynes only have so many ships." Diana nodded, thanking the seven she wed her good sister to a man with a fleet. The Targaryen ships still sat in Dragonstone, uncommanded as no one had seen the prince and the king had yet to call for naval aid.

"How many crewmen do we have?" Diana asked, pondering. The Iron Islands had been rather quiet, but they would start reaving soon, with war starting.

"Fit for sailing? We've five hundred seasoned veterans without ties to a ship and a thousand green boys itching to sail." Tywin replied, considering the figures. With the dead men from the war of Ninepenny kings came children who inherited an apprenticeship in sailing. Ironic, now, that they were sending men to Riverrun to sail ships, for the Lannister's had yet to finish building the rest.

"The ships in Dragonstone, the sailors have been ordered to pick up their swords and march to the Reach, it was Aerys final order." Diana recalled, "The ships are just sitting there, he needed the men, not the navy."

"Then we march on Dragonstone, commandeer the ships, and lift the siege of Storm's end, bringing the Reach to heel." Tywin reflected, "It's brilliant." He grinned at her, and she remembered how much she had missed him as well. It was hard to think of him as he was now when Aerys visited her bed. She imagined her mighty roaring lion, not the sweet tongued cub that found any excuse to touch her.

"It's just...my sister fled to Dragonstone." Diana whispered, picking at her food more than actually eating it. "She is with child, Tywin. Seven moons when she left, the Maester guessed." Fear gripped her then, Tywin would not allow a boy to live, a child king, a piece of Aerys still left.

"I am sure she shall surrender peacefully." Tywin offered in response, and she smiled weakly at him. "Diana, Jaime has vowed to kill Rhaegar. When he has, the throne shall be vacant..."

He stared intently at her then and her voice was strong as she spoke, "Queen Regnant and King Consort, long may we reign." Tywin grinned at her then, and raised his glass.

“With my sword, I shall lay the seven kingdoms at your feet, my Brightheart.” Tywin offered, “To be passed to Jaime and his son after him.”

"How is Aly?" Diana asked, biting her lip. She wished to see her daughter, but knew the court would be expecting her to make an appearance, to prove she had not been broken, to see if the rumors of fire and blood were true.

"She understands her duty." Tywin replied, and Diana glared at him, rage catching.

"Duty? She is seventeen and about to be widowed, she has been through hell, Tywin!" Diana scolded him, huffing as she stood. She wished to go to her daughter, but the servant returned with the meat she ordered, and she commanded her daughter to be summoned instead.

"Then speak with her." Tywin growled, and left to send the ravens that needed sending. Tywin loved his daughter, but with his wife well and seven kingdoms to bring to heel, he had not time to think of what she would feel at that moment. She was a Lannister, she would know what needed to be done.

Diana focused on her dragon, offering the raw meat to the small beast. Brightfyre continued to huff at his food, until a small flame came from his mouth and his meat was charred. Pride flared in her chest as she watched her child eat. Mother of a dragon, she never thought she would see the day.

"Mother?" Alysanne's voice called out, and Diana noted that her old wardrobe was returned to her as well, a crimson gown swathing her daughter, more modest than she had seen her daughter wear in years. The silk hid bruises, she had no doubt.

"Alysanne!" Diana hugged her daughter, clutching her closely. "I am so sorry, Aly, for everything." It was the first time they could speak freely.

"Mother, are you alright?" Eyes matching the color of her own stared back at her, colored with worry. "Did you really kill him?"

Word traveled fast, she had no doubt. "The king died by my hand." She confessed, "He would have killed us all in the end."

Tears filled Alysanne's eyes, "Father wishes me to marry again, I loved Rhaegar, mother. But after everything that has happened, I do not wish to be his Lady wife, but that does not mean I wish to wed someone else!" Guilt stabbed at her as she realized how young her daughter was, it was not fair to push her so much. How many times had she promised her first born daughter a knight who was fair and strong, who would love her unconditionally? 

"Hush, love. It's alright." Diana coddled her daughter, "I will not make you remarry. You may grow old in Casterly Rock or join the Septas for all I care!" Alysanne snorted at the thought, and the smile that cracked her face brought Diana joy.

"Thank you, mother!" Alysanne replied, and she smiled at her.

Chapter Text

Jaime and the rest of the crew aboard The Brightheart anchored upon the shores of Sunspear, the Dornish heat and salty air making the heir to Lannister feel awfully sticky. His clothes stuck to his skin, even though they were the lightest material he owned. Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn greeted Jaime at the port. The younger prince looked venomously at him, while the ruling prince projected an aura of calm. "Welcome, my lord." Doran greeted, and they exchanged bows.

"I thank you for welcoming me into Dorne, my prince." Jaime replied, to which Doran smiled stiffly. Lewyn Martell of the kingsguard was last rumored to be traveling with Prince Rhaegar, and to Dorne no less. The Dornish had not raised their spears for either side, although rumor had it Lady Johanna Martell still kept in touch with her Lannister kin. His father had often said they should travel to Firefall and see their second cousins, but his mother had looked so haunted at the thought of being anywhere near where her grandfather, his great grandfather, Aegon the Unlikely, had met his demise that it never came to be. 

"Of course," The prince motioned a servant forward with bread and salt. Jaime took a loaf offered, breaking off a piece and swirling it into the salt before taking a large bite, sealing his guest rights. He thought it rather blunt of them, to show they meant no harm before he even stepped foot into their keep.

"Thank you." Jaime repeated himself, motioning to the bread and salt. "Have you heard from your uncle?" From the whispers of spies, he had gleaned that the Martell knight's paramour had escaped the city soon after his mother had been taken hostage, and made her way to Sunspear for protection of her lover's family.

Oberyn shook his head, "His Lady speaks to how the King took your mother to wife, and forced his rights upon her." Jaime curled his lip, before he realized that the prince was goading him, looking for a weakness to exploit, a button to push. He forced his face into one of neutrality. 

"And he shall face my father's wrath for it." Jaime simply responded, squaring his shoulders. Brynden Tully walked from the gangplank down to join him, munching on salted bread. The Blackfish bowed to the princes, but said nothing. They had a fleet with them of ten ships, carrying a hundred men each, but had brought only the flagship to shore, lest they spook the Dornish into thinking they planned to attack them.

"You did not hear then." Oberyn flashed a triumphant smile, "He marches upon King's Landing as we speak, perhaps he already has." The second son had the eyes of a viper, and seemed ready to strike out at him.

"Come, let us guide you to your chambers, so you and your companions may rest." Doran said civilly, ever the diplomat. Dorne had been neutral the entire war, but now both a lion and a dragon were in their lands, at least if the rumors of Rhaegar's descent here from the Riverlands was to be believed.

Jaime was led to airy chambers overlooking the bay his ship docked in, the large open windows billowing in salty air to counteract the harsh, dry heat. He asked for a bath to be drawn for him, and as it was prepared he sat before the desk in the room, taking advantage of the proffered papers and pens. He wrote to his father, to tell him that he had arrived in Dorne a week later than expected due to the harsh summer storm they encountered. When a maid told him his bath had been drawn, he gave her the letter and a golden dragon, instructing her to take the letter to the rookery. 

The Lannister heir made quick work to bathe the smell of the sea from his body, and don a light tunic of crimson. He forwent the golden sword he received for his last name day, choosing a dragonbone dagger for his belt instead. It was less gaudy and would draw less attention. Two hours after he arrived in Sunspear, Jaime was escorted to a dining hall for a small feast with the Martells. A man with copper hair sat next to a woman with golden curls, who reminded him of his Aunt Genna, with a young man and maiden beside them. The Martells of Firefall, Jaime had no doubt. Rumor had it they had yet to decide on a cadet branch name, leaving the surname for their heir to decide. He had never met his father's cousin, but she smiled warmly at him. Next to the couple sat Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn, Princess Elia was nowhere to be found.

"Lord Jaime!" Johanna Martell greeted the man with a bright smile, "It is so good to finally meet my Lannister cousin!" Her husband's face darkened at the name, as if it were cursed.

Jaime kissed both her cheeks softly as she embraced him. "Thank you, Lady Martell. My parents have spoken highly of you." A lie spoken easily, Lannisters had golden tongues after all.

He sat at the seat offered to him, across from the royal family of Dorne. No one had moved to eat yet, he noticed, and looked at Lady Johanna. "There is one more dining with us: Lady Ashara Dayne has ridden hard for a week, and asks to speak with my good nephew, yet she insists you be present, Jaime." Jaime furrowed his brow, the sister of the kingsguard who took his betrothed? The Dornish were bold, he knew, but were they bringing the Dayne maiden to insult him?

Before he could think it over more, the doors opened once more, and a travel-worn woman in dirty riding clothes entered, covered in sweat and dust. "My prince!" She bowed quickly, her purple eyes, a dark shade, wide with horror.

"Lady Ashara, had I known you would get such use from Sunburst, I would have gifted you a sand steed sooner." Oberyn quipped, and Jaime gaped slightly. The Dornish were known for their speedy steeds, who could ride for day and night at top speed and never tire. Just where was this woman coming from?

"King Aerys is dead, my prince." The Stony Dornish maiden stated flatly. She was in court? Jaime racked his brain, thinking back to his mother and her flurry of highborn ladies around her. Then he remembered it was not his mother who had Ashara in her service, but Alysanne. ' The Queen insists I take a Dornish handmaiden, what if she tries to bed my husband with her wanton ways?' His twin's voice rang in his head, and he thought back to when his sister had arrived in King's Landing as Princess of Dragonstone, with a handmaiden from every kingdom as a sign of unity. He never thought to think of just who they were or what happened to them once his mother had been taken prisoner.

"The lion raked his claws across the dragon's back at last." Doran stated, and Jaime wondered why he would be privy to such a meeting. Shouldn’t they be talking strategy behind closed doors, not inviting a potential foe to hear everything? 

"No, my prince." Ashara looked at Jaime then, "Rickard Stark was set to burn at the stake for treason, but Diana Targaryen was taken instead, along with Prince Viserys, who did not survive. Lady Diana walked from the flames and pulled her brother into it, and when the flames died out, she walked out with a baby dragon. The Lannisters style themselves as King and Queen now."

He was a prince, no, the heir to Westeros? He blinked rapidly, trying to process what he was being told. His parents had taken the throne, and were staking a claim. Everyone at the table seemed to stare at him then, weighing his worth. Jaime fought to keep the surprise from his face again, he had been so consumed with getting Lyanna back, trusting his father to keep his sister and mother safe, but for his mother to do such a thing? Would they call her a kinslayer or would they deem her a mother of dragons?

"I'm sure a raven demanding fealty shall come soon as well." Doran said eventually, he looked to Ashara again, "How did you escape?"

"Lady Alysanne was forced to serve as handmaiden to Queen Rhaella, leaving her own to their own devices, Ladies Tyrell, Brax, Estermont and Forrester left to their own homes not long after, leaving only myself, Lady Connington and Lady Waynwood, yet they fled as soon as their families called their banners. When court was called to watch Lord Stark perish, I ran to the stables the moment Lady Diana emerged from the flame, hair still burning. Needless to say, the guards were rather distracted." Ashara explained, exhaustion coloring her features.

Oberyn did not seem to know what to think of the information, while Mors and Johanna looked grim. Doran remained neutral, but one could see the thought process forming in his mind. "Lord Jaime, I would have you return to your rooms after our meal." The King was dead, leaving only Rhaegar as a claimant of male Targaryen blood. The Dornish would need to decide then and there, to side with the lion or the dragon. As Jaime sipped his red wine and ate in silence with the others at the table as Ashara was dismissed to bathe and rest,his mind wandered back to Lyanna, if she was safe, he watched everyone silently eat. It amazed him how the game of thrones was not played on battlefields, but at dinner tables.

Chapter Text

Doran stared calmly at his brother as he paced within the Prince of Dorne's personal solar. The room was round, with a sun pierced by a spear etched into the marble floors covering the ground beneath their feet. "First the lions steal my sister's crown, and now they take it for themselves?" Oberyn raged. Doran sighed, this argument again. His mother, before her death a year before of fever, had plotted with the Queen that should she bear a son as she did, Elia would step in as bride for Rhaegar. His sister would do her duty, he had no doubt, but he knew she would not be happy outside of Dorne. She was always a frail thing, like her mother and namesake, and the heat of the Dornish sand seemed to breathe life into her fragile bones. Doran wished that Arthur had never joined the Kingsguard, his sister would have been kin with her childhood companion Ashara through marriage.

"Do you honestly think our sister would have been happy in the viper's den of King's Landing, with the Mad King and a prince obsessed with prophecy?" Doran questioned, and his brother finally stilled from his frantic pacing.

Oberyn fixed him with a humourless smile, "A viper's den? And here they call me the Red Viper." The second son glared at the eldest then, "I would have gone with her, who better to protect her from snakes than a snake itself?"

"And you would have watched her waste away as her husband ran off with a Stark maiden, and she was kept hostage as a means to bring Dornish spears to the dragon's side." Doran calmly replied, "The Lannisters are not our enemy, brother. But they are not our allies yet either."

"So we hide in Sunspear?" Oberyn snarled, he was eager to fight, they both knew. He longed to wield his poison tipped spear and win glory for himself and justice for his people. Doran was happy to sit in his corner of the world and stay there, Oberyn wanted to explore, to gain power and prestige, bed maidens and kill men.

"No, brother." The Prince said with a coy smile, "We have sat idle too long, the Lannisters have the support of the Riverlands, the North, the Vale and of course, the West. The crownlands will fall with the King dead, and word has it ships sail to Storm's end to lift the siege while soldiers march to take dragonstone, ending the Queen and taking the Royal Navy. When the Reach falls, what do you think they will do?"

"They will turn to Dorne, and rain down fire and blood." Oberyn stated, but his brother corrected him. He thought back to the Queen Visenya of old, her dragon was no match for Dorne, but gold was more powerful than any dragon, although rumor had it the Lannisters how had both.

"We will hear them roar, there is no doubt. Unless we barter for what we want." Doran supplied, "When the heralding announcement comes out, officially naming Tywin Lannister king of Westeros, we shall request that Jaime, as heir to the throne, be seen as an envoy of the Iron Throne."

"Why not take him hostage?" The Red Viper asked, "Confine him to his rooms and make our demands, Dorne has never fallen to outside invasion."

"Because that is an act of war, not a plea for peace." Doran replied impatiently, "The Lannister is like a lion cub, easily flattered and he has none of his father's cunning. I want Dorne to have a seat on the Small council, with you serving, perhaps as Master of War. Our uncle is to be returned to Dorne, unharmed and released of his vows if he wishes, or to be reinstated in the Lannister Kingsguard."

"Those are steep demands." Oberyn replied, "I will be happy to negotiate them out with the little lion." Perhaps over a spar, he thought darkly.

Doran shook his head, "No, I am Prince of Dorne, it is my responsibility." Oberyn opened his mouth to argue but shut it at his brother's piercing stare.

A servant knocked and informed of a letter from the Rookery, bearing the oddest sigil. A golden snarling lion with a mane of red fire on a field of black.

Chapter Text

Tywin had always wanted to be the most powerful man in the realm, but he never imagined himself as King, he never dared to dream of what could not possibly be. Yet there he was, watching his wife pace before him, a golden crown with a lion roaring flames emblazoned upon it, rubies shining in the form of fire in the light. A large table was before them, with a map of Westeros before them, a bastardized version of the Painted table in Dragonstone, laid heavy with maps of soldiers and ships.

Something had broken in Diana, in their relationship, yet neither spoke of it. Tywin had to move slowly around her, as if she were a spooked animal. If he reached for her in the night her entire body would jump and tense, and he knew she thought the hand was her brother's. Oh to bring a man back from the dead if only to kill him again! His Valyrian Queen barely slept anymore, always sitting before the fire with her dragon in her lap. 

The beast was easily the size of a pony, but she had refused to allow him to be kept in the stables or the dungeon, but had converted a guest suite into a comfortable den for the creature. Once the war was won, Diana spoke of rebuilding the Dragonpit, turning part of it into a large keep for their family, the other to house her dragon and any other dragons that may come into the world. Tywin was still not sure how she survived, he never believed in magic, yet her body hummed with it as she stepped from the flames. She spoke of things that would cost thousands of gold dragons, but he could easily tax the rebel houses for years, garnering the lost sums with ease, not to mention the overflowing coffers from Aerys continuous paranoia that he would need to spend thousands on squashing a rebellion.

"The Coronation is today, in less than an hour yet the High Septon has not been informed?" Tywin broached the topic with his wife. They were both already dressed, swathed in fine silks and priceless jewels. "Septons crown Monarchs, my lady." Her slippered feet stopped their route around the table, and her violet eyes stared at him.

"I do not want a reminder of the Targaryen Dynasty." She said simply, as if the realm would simply follow, "I will crown you, and you shall crown me. The claim to the throne is Targaryen blood, but a Lannister shall rule from now on, an even exchange of power between King and Queen."

He blinked at her, unsure of what to think. The faith would throw a fit no doubt, but he knew his wife would fight him on this occasion. "Why can the Septon not simply crown us both?" His pretty wife frowned at him delicately, a haunted gaze falling over her. She did not want the High Septon there at all, he realized. "Diana, why do you dislike the Septon?" Rage flashed in her for a moment, then dimmed just as rapidly.

"Aerys threatened to have him gutted if he did not perform a marriage ceremony. In the Great Sept my ancestor built, that man wed me to my brother while a knight who swore vows to protect women and children held a blade to my daughter's throat!" Diana snarled, "Everything King Aegon built has been made a mockery of, so I will tear it down, stone by stone, and build it anew."

There were those to say Diana turned her cloak to her family, but it was not true. Looking at her shaking form, clothed in golden silks and black lions, with the large golden lion necklace that held a ruby stone in his mouth, he knew she equated everything Targaryen with her brother, with what he had done and what she had been forced to do. She wanted to destroy the Targaryen legacy, and replace it with a Lannister one. "The Kingsguard was a nearsighted institution." Tywin offered to her, "What good is a lifelong vow to protect someone, when age makes for a weak soldier?"

His wife brightened in front of him, and he warmed at the sight, it was the happiest he had seen her since their reunion. "Exactly! We have no obligation to traditions held by a previous dynasty. The Kingsguard should not be for life, but a set of years determined."

"Seven Kingsguard for seven years." Tywin offered, standing to escort her to the throne room. "What of the Small Council? I found it rather productive." It was their legacy now, their rule. The thought of a feeble soldier protecting his family angered him, although the insight of the council was invaluable. 

Diana nodded, he knew she had never been privy to such meetings before, and knew not of what occurred there, only the positions filled. "I want a Kingdom to fill each seat in the council. The Blackfish would make an excellent Master of Ships, or perhaps your good brother, Lord Redwyne."

"A Northern Man should be Master of Laws, they are so concerned with honor, it would fit well." Tywin proffered as they walked arm in arm. The hallways that were once guest chambers had been refurbished to fit the needs of royals, Diana refused to step foot where her brother's chambers once lay. Lion banners hung on the wall, the traditional standard of house Lannister, and the sigil that would serve as the Royal house, a golden lion on a field of black, with a mane of red flames.

Tywin had invested in a few bards and mummers, who traveled the seven kingdoms, speaking of the Brightheart, the firemane, the mother of dragons, and the fall of the mad king. The small folk ate the words and songs up, falling at the Lannister's feet. Ravens flew to every keep and castle in the realm, declaring the reign of King Tywin and Queen Diana Lannister, and soon the court would be filled with lords and heirs swearing fealty. Already, the lords of the North, Riverlands, Stormlands and some from the Vale, had arrived with their men. 

A battle had broken out between the loyalist Valemen and the rebel ones, Jon Arryn had been riding to meet with his former ward, Robert Baratheon, who was leading a group of Stormlands men to meet with the Vale and Riverland groups. Jon Connington led the Targaryen loyalists, his grief over the death of the mad king well known. With a mighty swing of his war hammer, Robert Baratheon slew the Rooster and brought the Vale to heel.

Slowly but surely, a new dynasty was forming, in the image of house Lannister. Lion banners were being sewn round the clock, and Tywin sent word to the Redwynes: aid would be coming to lift the siege of Storm's End. For four moons, the castle had been deprived of supplies, save for the few vessels that slipped through Shipbreaker bay. Once the naval fleet was taken from Dragonstone, and Queen Rhaella slain, the Reach would break and bend the knee. Ser Lorch was amongst the soldiers and sailors, given specific instructions on how to handle the last Targaryen Queen, Tywin was mindful that the woman was his good sister after all. She and her child would receive a quick, painless death. Once the bodies were shown to court, he would allow his wife to bury her sister with their ancestors, he would comfort her as she mourned.

The crown that sat on his wife's brow was taken off her head as they walked towards the throne room. Most coronations were in the Great Sept, another change made from their predecessors. Court was waiting for them, standing easily despite the extra people due to the removal of the Dragon skulls, which had been moved underground. In a flurry of golden silks, Diana swept into the room with Tywin at her side, wearing a fresh blood red tunic. Alysanne stood beside the steps leading to the Iron throne, and curtsied with the rest of the nobles. His eldest daughter was quite enraptured with her mother's dragon, and took care of it as much as Diana did. Brightfyre had taken to curling around the swords of the iron throne, looming over the court with an occasional huff. He stared down the Lannister king and queen as they walked up to the throne.

"Nobles of Westeros," Diana began the speech he had heard her practice so many times before in the weeks of grieving that passed before the coronation, "Today, the reign of Targaryen Kings comes to an end, the madness of the dragon is over. Today, the reign of Lannister kings begins, the glory of the lion has come!" Banners fell from the wall then, revealing the royal standard of Lannister, the lion with a mane of fire. Tywin enjoyed the sight, it would make it easier to distinguish the Lannisters of Casterly Rock from the royal family, albeit a princely title would be bestowed upon them, making Dorne and the Martells no longer alone in this right.

A Septa came forward then, with a larger crown than the tiara like one Diana wore earlier. Golden spirals spun around the base of the crown, three fingers wide, with the sigil of every great house etched in fine detail along the sides, the creatures all bowing towards the center of the crown, where a lion roared, black onyx eyes and mane of tiny rubies catching in the light like true flames would. Diana knelt before her husband, and the crown weighs heavy in his hands. "With this act, I crown you Queen Diana of the house Lannister, the burning lion, the brightheart, mother of Brightfyre and Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, lady regnant and protector of the realm." The fine jewelry fit perfectly upon his wife's head, his fingers brushing the silk fuzz of her remaining hair.

As Tywin knelt, he was surprised to see an old man in strange robes step forth then, a weirwood tree pin on his breast. He held a crown more masculine and slightly larger than Diana's, with a normal golden lion roaring as the sigils of every kingdom bowed around the edges. "With this act, I crown you King Tywin of the house Lannister, the golden lion, the Stranger's Hand, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, lord regnant and protector of the realm."

Tywin rose from his kneeling stance, and took his wife's hand in his own as he led her up the steps to the Iron Throne. He moved to sit upon it, but Brightfyre lashed out then, hissing at him. All of the court watched with bated breath as Tywin stared down the dragon, before nodding his head ever so slightly, and moving to help his wife sit. Diana looked taken back for a moment, but swished her skirts out and sat upon the throne she had desired since childhood. Slowly, Tywin descended the steps, practically growling at anyone who dared look to defy him or his wife. He looked up at Diana then, and saw her glowing with a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment he had never seen in her before.

She sat upon the Iron Throne, a snarling lion at her feet.

Chapter Text

Diana dreamed of darkness, of a shadow stretching out its cold claws and wrapping around her pale throat, of her sister's crown falling from the tallest tower of Dragonstone and into the swirling waters with a mute sound, of a direwolf whelping in the sand, of a dragon and a lion spinning around each other snarling and biting.

Every night, her mind conjured the strange images, and memories of her brother hissing of the three headed dragon as he took her against her will. She had tried to erase every memory of him, cast out every three headed dragon banner and watched them burn. 'You have lived as a lion for too long' The words of the gods hissed in her ear, and she wanted to scream. What had being a Targaryen ever gotten her? The spare princess, meant to be married off for the sake of soothing the irate nobles who were once again denied the opportunity for their daughter to be queen. She dreamed since she was a child of sitting atop the Iron throne, with a lion at her feet. Yet in making her vision come true, she had become a lioness herself.

Brightfyre seemed to sense his mother's dark mood. He grew larger and larger each day, and Diana spent more time with him every day, teaching him. The converted guest chambers once contained vaulted ceilings, a large expanse of a single room with large doors with an even more impressive balcony overlooking the sea. The room was on the far end of the Red Keep, an entire wall opening to the balcony that faced the expanse of sea. Builders and stone workers made quick work of the area, removing the doors and clearing any furniture. Diana stood at the outskirts of the balcony, the dragon the size of a war horse before her, flapping his wings experimentally over the edge. He was still learning to fly, to hover in place and not shoot himself into a certain direction. The chamber worked well for him, as he had yet to master long flights, so he could test his wings over the empty sea and return to his nest without ever being sighted by smallfolk. A separate expense column had to be added to the royal treasury just to pay for the amount of sheep and other animals the ever growing dragon seemed to consume. Brightfyre was never full, it seemed. Diana hoped that once her dragon had enough flight control, he might be taught to fly for his food in the water, collecting fish and other sea creatures.

Brightfyre was a curious creature, always squawking out little clicking sounds, and attempting to breathe fire. The flame he produced reached only a foot out, but was enough to cook his food for him. Soon he would be roaming over the Red Keep, and Diana feared he would fly too far and not return. The Maesters had been helpful, and books from the Citadel on dragons written by those present when her ancestors rode their own beasts. It would be another six moons before she could even attempt to mount her dragon, and complete the connection between them. All the recounts said the same, a dragon only accepted one living rider at a time.

Her blood red dragon twisted his head to the side, breaking the eye contact with her to look over her shoulder. She turned to see a servant slowly walking towards her. "Your grace, Lady Stark has arrived, and was instructed by the King to come to you at once."

Confusion colored her for a moment, for a moment thinking he was referring to her future good daughter, until a shock of red hair appeared from the room. Catelyn Stark, formerly Catelyn Tully, stood before her, heavy with a child of her own while carrying two in her arms. Visenya and Aemon had grown so much since she had seen them last, she could have wept. Catelyn stared fearfully at the form of fire made flesh before her, before Tully blue eyes swept to the Queen's short stock of hair and golden crown. Diana rushed forward, breaking the woman out of her shocked standstill, and moved to curtsy. The royal moved to take her children before the lady had a chance to complete the show of respect. Visenya held her father's eyes, golden curls quickly growing as she fussed against her mother's chest. Aemon was calm, lilac eyes serene and his head sporting silver hair, pin straight. The babes both stared at the dragon before them in awe.

Catelyn looked about to scream when the beast landed before them, his head coming forward to sniff the twins delicately. Diana had no fear, Brightfyre had the same reaction to Alysanne, it was as if the beast recognised his kin. Visenya stopped squirming immediately, giving a toothless smile and reaching a tiny fist towards the dragon.

"Thank you, Lady Stark." Diana said after a moment, "For watching over my children." With Jaime in Dorne and Daemon fortifying Harrenhal as a proper defensible keep, Diana needed her youngest children with her, to know they were safe.

"Of course, your grace." Catelyn replied with a slight shake in her voice, and Diana smiled at her.

"Brightfyre, sōvēs." Diana commanded, breaking the dragon from his reverie with the children, he seemed to huff at her, before taking a few experimental flaps of his wings and took to the air. He could go short distances, and with a swish, flew to the other side of the balcony, careening himself into the den he had made for himself within the opposite side of the open chambers.

With the dragon not within personal distance, Lady Stark visibly relaxed. Diana quirked a wry smile at her and moved to walk from the chambers. "Come, you must be travel ridden and sore, I shall send for some tea and have servants draw you a bath while we drink." Cat smiled at her politely, and her blue eyes flashed with thankfulness.

With her children in her arms, Diana walked the halls of the Red Keep. They made their way to the Queen's ballroom, and sat in the overstuffed couches. A maid scurried to fetch refreshments, and Diana memorised every change and growth her children made while she was a part from them. "It is a lovely room, your grace." Catelyn offered after a moment of silence.

Diana smiled wistfully, "I was never allowed in here as a child, my mother was worried that my sister or I might break something." The room was lavishly decorated, with furniture imported from Myr and stained glass windows imported from Pentos.

"Queen Shaera was as any mother would be, I imagine." Catelyn replied, "Worried of children with sticky fingers."

"Perhaps." Her smile turned strained and sad, "Rhaella could never bring herself to come in here after mother died. She was closer to her, as the eldest daughter and female heir. The room reminded her too much of mother."

"And you, your grace?" Catelyn asked, and her boldness seemed to shock even her.

Diana stared at the walls surrounding them, of the portraits of King Aegon the Unlikely and his Blackwood bride facing the image of her own parents. There were paintings of every royal couple since King Jaehaerys the Second, after his sister wife, Good Queen Alysanne had started the tradition of hanging a royal portrait in the very same ballroom. Aerys had scoffed at the idea of sitting for hours to have a portrait commissioned, and without a reason to come into the room, if only to continue the tradition, the ballroom fell into disuse.

"I loved my mother, but she loved me the way she loved that vase." Diana replied evenly, her wrist flicking towards the piece of art that stood above the fireplace, a seemingly old piece of work that cost a fortune. "Yet is strangely comforting to be in here, as if she were about to come in and scold me for being here. The thrills of childhood I suppose."

Catelyn smiled at her then, a true one that Diana felt was almost not meant for her, as the girl had a far off gaze. "My mother passed a few years ago, bringing my brother into the world. It took me months to be able to walk into her solar."

"Are you afraid?" Diana asked then, gesturing to the swell of Cat's belly. She had wed five moons ago and it showed.

Catelyn looked so young to her then, even though she was a year older than Diana was when she was heavy with Alysanne and Jaime. "Sometimes I'm scared out of my wits, others I am so happy I could weep." The redhead replied, and moved to begin preparing their tea as a servant bustled in.

"Allow me." Diana moved to take over, and fussed over preparing the girl's tea with a good dose of sweet milk and placed a plate with a honeyed biscuit next to the teacup. "My husband plans to march with the troops to lift the siege of Storm's End, Brandon will no doubt follow, as his father is still ill." The days in the Black Cells had left Rickard Stark a shadow of himself, he was so malnourished he was skin and bones and they had to keep him on a diet of broth for the first week of recovery to allow his body to adjust to food once more. Ned Stark was slightly better, but had a wound in his leg that had festered, and the Maester worried he may have to take the leg to keep it from rot. The image of a one-legged Ned crossed her mind then, and drew her back to Gregor Clegane. The Mountain on the Wall, they called him. The boy she had maimed in her rage had grown into a monster of a man, looming over Castle Black, his stump wrists fashioned with contraptions built by the Night's Watch smith, a hammer and a dagger coming from the cuffs that covered his brutalized flesh.

"I pray to the Warrior every day for his strength to be with my Lord husband." Catelyn said earnestly, nibbling on the biscuit before her.

Diana grinned darkly, "Is it not better to pray for the Stranger to pass over our loved ones?" Oh, how many times she had prayed that the Stranger pass over her sister and her unborn child, and for the Mother to guide Tywin Surefoot to Rhaella in time. A smuggler by the name of Davos agreed to take Tywin to Dragonstone on a small ship meant for sneaking goods. The Sworn Shield was sent with a large chest of gold, and the crown Rhaella wore as a princess, a sign of trust. His instructions were simple, spirit Rhaella away from Dragonstone and to Pentos, where more money would be placed into an account with the Iron Bank, enough for her to live a quiet, cushioned life with her child. Diana only hoped that the smuggler's ship was faster than the quick pace her husband had ordered the soldiers to keep on their way to Dragonstone.

"Perhaps I should simply pray to each of the Seven in turn for protection." Catelyn replied, and her quick thought pleased Diana. She saw Brandon and Sandor as her own children, and she was happy to see one of them wed to a noble maiden worthy of them. As much money as Diana had poured into lotions and salves (much to Tywin's displeasure), Sandor had scarred horribly from the flames, and she knew he would have a harder time finding a bride. Even as heir to the Clegane lands, he may end up wed to a Frey.

"A good idea." Diana stated, and they sat in a comfortable silence, sipping their tea and listening to the children babble to each other from their spot on the couch, pinned in with pillows.

Chapter Text

The heat was unbearable, that was the thought that Lyanna toyed with the most. She was not used to anything other than chill and snow, she missed her thick dresses and animal hide cloaks. The Tower of Joy held little happiness for her, as she sweltered in the heat. Her hands gripped her swelling stomach, reminding her of why she needed to continue to fight. Lyanna thought of Jaime’s green eyes, of how he laughed and bowed with a strange, serious reverence before the hearts tree, despite being so drunk he could barely stand. He had vowed before the Old Gods and the New that she was his lady wife–a term that made her snort–and he would be her lordly husband.

Rhager had tried, time and time again, to ravish her, to rape her. She fought him like the she-wolf he was, spitting and scratching until all supposed pleasure was removed. Arthur Dayne had even pulled his body off of her when he was so drunk he thought she loved him, that she would willingly give herself to him. It made her fear her journey to the tower, he had laced her food with something akin to milk of the poppy and she lost a good amount of time. Had he taken her then? She thanked the Old Gods for the white knight, for it was he who pulled the prince away when she would scream and kick, and it was him who told him he had been successful when she began to show, her pregnancy jutting out from her once flat stomach. Had he, when she was unconscious? Or did Arthur prevent something then as well? 

She never told him about Jaime, although she assumed he had guessed, based on the way she heard him praying the child had strictly Stark features. Neither said anything when Rhaeger would rant and rave about the dragon having three heads, how Alysanne Lannister would bear him children to wed to the child growing in Lyanna. The Stark hated him even more for that, when she thought of the woman Lyanna had never met, being subjected to the same cruel notions, the same arrogance and sense of entitlement. Did Alysanne enjoy being a princess so much that she was willing to deal with Rhaeger’s madness? Lyanna scoffed to herself, Jaime’s twin could have him, assuming he lived for very long after Jaime saved her.

Lyanna hated that her thoughts had a circular motion, alternating between the heat, to her pregnancy, to Jaime rescuing her, to what Rhaegar had done, and back to the heat. To be fair, she mused, there wasn’t much left to think about. The crown prince had disappeared three days ago, to meet with those loyal to his cause, and it was just her and Arthur, along with a pack of supplies that would supposedly be replenished. Although the knight had already halved his rations. 

“He’s not coming back, is he?” Her mouth was dry, voice hoarse from disuse, she usually only cursed Rhaegar to whichever of the supposed seven hells he believed in where the worst. Arthur had taken off his white armor, placing it in reach as he walked from one end of the tower’s balcony to the other, wary of anyone arriving. 

“He will come back for you, my lady and the–” Dayne cut himself off, realizing what he was about to say, what he was about to imply. She stared at him coldly, the heat around her making her lash out.

“For me and my baby? For the next Lannister heir?” It was a pointless taunt, Tywin Lannister would never recognise a bastard for an heir. But what she had heard about Diana gave her hope, the way she took in the Clegane boy and raised him as her own. Although the doubt crept in there too, for she had seen the former Clegane heir on his way to the Wall. She had crept around the keep of Winterfell and saw the Maester treating him, unwinding his bandages to put a salve on the stumps of his hands, telling him how the winter chill would prevent infections. The boy who was far too large for his age terrified her, but the thought of a woman doing that to him was scarier still. 

“Pray the victor claims the child.” Arthur’s voice drug her out of her thoughts. He wasn’t looking at her, still staring out at the endless sand. “Pray the child is not given the name Sand, that they are honored with the name of a proud father.” 

She clutched her hands to her stomach, it had been half a year almost, the faint flickers of life in her stomach giving her hope and despair all at once. Lyanna left Arthur to his watch and laid down on the thin sheets of the bed and whispered to her stomach. “You are a little lion cub, child of the wolves of Winterfell. There is ice in your veins, but fire as well. You are of the north and of the west, don’t ever let a dragon tell you otherwise.”

Chapter Text

Rhaella stared at the open expanse before her, the Chamber of the Painted Table was a steep climb to get to, one the Maesters had warned her not to partake at half past eight moons with child. Her sister was always the clairvoyant, the one who dreamed and wandered, yet here she was, hoping for a glimpse of what her future held. Rhaella watched the sea flicker beneath the open balcony before her, the entire sky swallowing the world around her. 

In the time of true Targaryens, they built the castle with their dragons in mind. Before this table, King Aegon the First plotted to unite the seven kingdoms under the three headed dragon banner, oh how he would rage to see them now. The Velaryons, their closest kin and allies, had turned their backs on the royal loyalists, Lady Alyssa Brax was once a Velaryon herself, and as a Lady of the Westerlands and only daughter to their late lord father, her brother sided with the Lannisters. The seahorse fleet blocked in the warships that Dragonstone prided itself on, yet in the end it was their greatest weakness. The large ships could not slip through the tightly wound blockade of Redwyne and Velaryon ships before them. What irony that Dragonstone be laid siege to just as the one on Storm's End was being lifted.

Word had reached the Island of Dragonstone too soon of the Lannister army marching to their gates, there was nowhere else for her to flee to. She was a dowager queen now, one son lost to the flames that took her brother and husband, while her eldest son would face off against a lion of his own. Rhaegar, her sweet, foolish son. He could have been the greatest king Westeros would have seen, but he cared too much for prophecy. She blamed herself in that regard, she had tried so hard to shield her boys from their father's madness, yet it only encouraged them to listen to the king's great tales of magic and prophecy on the days when he was kind to them.

The days he had been kind to her were long gone, she would bear his scars for the rest of her life. But with his cruelty came home, the babe in her womb kicked fiercely, reminding her that they were both still alive, still fighting. Although what was there left to fight for?

The Keep held little in the means of populus, less than a hundred servants and around two hundred guards, as well as a few lesser nobles who served in ranks such as Master at Arms or Castilian. They would not hold off long should the fleet sail in, coming to the aid of the thousand men marching towards them. Perhaps they would play the Rains of Castamere and threaten to put everyone to the sword, herself included.

She glanced to Ser Barristan, his white armor gleaning in the soft candle light. He seemed uneasy  as well, sensing the taste of blood on the wind. Ser Darry was at the base of the steps to the tower, guarding the lone entrance. "My Queen, the hour is late." The bold knight gently reminds, "Perhaps it is time to escort you to your chambers?"

Rhaella nods, and goes to open her mouth to respond, only to hear a commotion outside the door. She pales, the Maesters estimated the soldiers to arrive come morning, not now, not tonight. Muffled shouts can be heard outside the door, and Ser Barristan draws his sword and instructs her to get back.

"I do not serve the King of Lannister!" A voice snarled, "But Queen Diana of house Targaryen, Returner of Dragons, the Unburnt, the Brightheart!" The rumors were true then, Diana fulfilled the prophecy, had she spilled Viserys’s blood to do so? Or just Aerys, who deserved it?

"Open the door." Rhaella commanded, and when her kingsguard did not move to reply she pinned him with a fierce glare, "Open the door." The wood spun open, revealing Tywin Surefoot with a box in one hand and a drawn sword in the other. Ser Darry had his drawn as well and was glaring daggers at the man.

Brown eyes looked at her then, and he bent the knee before her. "I apologize my lady, my sailor friend had to maneuver through the storm undetected by our sailing friends." He slid back the lid to the small oak box, revealing a scroll with an unbroken seal, a golden lion on a black field. Beneath the parchment was something she had not seen in many years, her crown as a princess, the same on Diana had in a smaller size. The same ones they wore to Casterly Rock what seemed like lifetimes ago.

"How did you break through the blockade?" Rhaella asked suspiciously. It seemed too good to be true but the hope blossomed in her just as well.

"There is a sailor named Davos, he slipped onions through to Storm's End with the help of the Redwyne fleet, when he returned to King's Landing to give his report, Queen Diana requested a private meeting with him, promising him lands and a knighthood in exchange for his services." Surefoot replied, "It is all in the letter, or so I have been told."

She broke the seal deftly, her eyes watering, her baby kicking wildly.

Rhaella,

I am so sorry, dear sister. Viserys was a sweet boy, a summer child taken too soon. Aerys burned for it, sweet sister, I promise you, he will never hurt either of us again. I feel there is so much to apologize for, and not enough time or parchment to express it all. You have always done your duty, Rhaella, but you have never been happy doing so.

I want to give you that chance, take your youngest child and run, Davos shall take you wherever you wish to go, and the Iron Bank has been instructed to have funds waiting for you under the name Sarella Everstar, enough for you to buy a large home of your own and live a happy life. Let us put aside our quarrels, our jealousy of babes and crowns and live happy lives.

Take this new start, sweet sister. I beg of you, for as much as I am Targaryen, I am Lannister. And a Lannister always pays their debts, and there is no greater one owed than the one I owe to you. I have taken the life mother and father wanted for you, and give you one to choose yourself instead.

Your sister always,

Diana

When he saw that she was done reading, Surefoot stared uneasily at her. "It is almost dawn, and the red cloaks shall arrive soon." He was ensuring she wished to leave, he knew.

The four stood around the painted table then, as Rhaella stared down at the image of the kingdoms she would never again step foot in, the ones she was meant to rule. Her palm pressed against her swollen belly, what was the point of being queen if it meant giving up the lives of her children? What had Aegon’s legacy ever given her but buried children and never ending wounds?

 "I will go." She turned then to her two loyal kingsguard, "I will not ask you to join me in exile." The word tasted strange on her mouth and she still felt strange taking this offer, knowing it could be a trap. But given the choice, she would trust her sister over an army of Lannister men, those who would see her as an enemy and do Mother knew what to her in their rage and bloodlust. She had felt that at the hands of her brother and husband for too long to risk it again.

"I would follow you into the arms of the Stranger, my Queen." Selmy responded resolutely, and Ser Jonothor nodded as well. The door swung open once more, and Ser Amory Lorch appeared. The manticore of his armor seemed to hiss at her as he drew his sword with a dark grin, two faceless men in Lannister armor beside him. Rhaella paled, he had been sent ahead, she was sure, to ensure a seamless transition. 

"I wonder if they shall call me a dragonslayer for this," The man cowed with a laugh, and swung at Barristan as he reached for his sword. Tywin Surefoot, having his previously drawn, parried from beside the knight. The two slashed and dodged, and soon the echo of their swords was followed by the warning bells of the Lannister soldiers, it seemed as though Lorch simply led the charge a touch earlier than everyone else.

"Get the Queen to safety!" Ser Jonothor growled, and lunged into the fray. He distracted the two guards as Tywin held off Amory, yet fighting two men against one in an enclosed space was wearing down on him. The Darry knight howled as a blade embedded into his back, the soldier had run him through while he focused on the other, there was no honor in such a kill. Tywin Surefoot sliced the man from his neck and Rhaella suppressed the urge to vomit at the jagged cut. The silver sword shined in the light, it was a strong enough blade to take the head clear off the man, but it was not Valyrian steel, so the wound was not a clean break.

Barristan drew a sword of his own, and he and Tywin Surefoot finished the Lorch knight off. Rhaella could feel her hands shaking, but all she could hear was the rushing of blood in her ears. "My lady, the Lannister knights will hunt us now, they know where we are." Tywin Surefoot spoke, "Lorch is Lord Tywin's creature, only he would order the killing of a pregnant woman."

Rhaella scoffed then, "He has destroyed houses, root and stem, how is my child any different?" We are not blood, and I do not warm his bed. She thought to herself darkly.

Her eyes wandered to the open balcony then, how easy it would be to jump as Queen Helaena did when her children were taken from her, to spare her unborn child the horrors of being slaughtered at the hands of a lion. Tywin Surefoot followed her longing stare, and saw the open balcony, no rails to protect anyone who might wander too close to the edge. His eyes sparked suddenly, then. "Write a suicide note."

Rhaella startled, and Ser Barristan raised his sword at the man. "One of these guards shall surely sink with his heavy armor, but if anyone close to the tower simply sees a body flying past them, and comes to the tower to see a suicide note in your own hand…" Tywin trailed off, and the remaining kingsguard lowered his blade.

"It will appear as though she killed herself when they were breaking in, and gave up." Barristan replied, "My queen, if you write something about how Ser Darry fights outside the door, it will appear as though they came in and were killed as they ended his life."

"No one looks for a dead woman." Surefoot piped back, and Rhaella nodded, her hands shaking.

Ser Jonothor was loyal to the end, I can hear them fighting just outside the door. Seven forgive me, the sea is calling, and I swear I hear my father's voice…

She stared at the parchment before her, and took off the crown that marked her as a queen, and placed it next to the paper. The men lifted one of the bodies up and draped it in a bright colored sheet from the linen closet outside the room, so that the blur falling would seem as though it were a woman in a dress, not a man in armor. They heaved the corpse over the edge, and as it fell into the sea, she tossed the crown she wore as a girl into the sea. Rhaella Targaryen was dead.

"Let's go." She turned to leave the room then, and was surprised to see Tywin Surefoot lead them to a hidden passageway, filled with rats and dust. It led them to the dragonmount, where a tiny ship waited for them, it seemed more fit for smuggling than carrying passengers, but she did not complain, it was how he managed to arrive undetected, so let it be how she would leave as well.

With only the dress on her back and the gold supposedly on the ship for her to use, the former Queen ordered the sailors to head to the free cities, which ever held the easiest course.

Chapter Text

Tywin was rather displeased with Amory Lorch, the Septons always said to never speak ill of the dead, but the dead man did not even die correctly. He could have at least left Queen Rhaella's corpse in his wake, a suicide was a sloppy thing. Sure, it washed the blood from his cloak, but he still had to deal with the aftermath. He had ordered a pregnant peasant whore to be done away with, happy to find a woman of similar build that would not be missed too terribly. The corpses had been cleansed down to the bones, wrapped in a large Lannister cloak, and taken with the men that sailed from Dragonstone back into Blackwater Bay, eager for war after wetting their appetite with the blood of loyalist servants.

He had thought to hang the Darry knight next to his fallen brothers from where they hung in full armor, but knew that without their beloved relative living, the house Jonothor hailed from would be more likely to bend the knee if he returned the man's bone to his ancestral keep.

Tywin had thought things were falling into place quite nicely, until the unholy screech filled the air, seeming to echo from two directions at once. It was a broken wail of mourning, the kind he had not heard in many years, when another dragon shuffled off the mortal coil, when bloody footprints led his way to her. The Lannister king grimaced, he had ordered that he would be the one to tell the Queen of her sister's passing.

He thanked the Seven that he was already on his way to his wife, for the doors to her chambers rattled with the force of them slamming shut behind the handmaidens sent with food for the Queen to break her fast. They were wide eyed and pale as ghosts, and he glowered at them, staring them down as they scurried past with meek nods and mumbles of 'your grace.' Tywin pushed the doors open, and was greeted with the sight of his wife standing on the railing of her balcony, staring down at the swirl of Blackwater bay. Her feet were bare, balancing nimbly on such a thin footing, and were she to fall, it would land her thirty feet below, perhaps not too steep as to die, but to sustain a lifelong injury, surely.

"Diana!" He snarled, half panic, half rage. Her short stock of silver hair caught the light as she turned to face him, still balanced.

Her purple eyes had never seemed so dark, so venomous, not even when she looked upon the head of Ellyn Reyne upon a spike at Casterly Rock. "I wonder which direction she faced when she jumped." Her arm splayed out to the sea behind her, "Did she dive forward, eager for what was to come? Or perhaps she simply leaned back into it, right into the Stranger's arms." She leaned back, just enough to bring his heart into his throat. Tears streamed down her face, blending with the smell of salt from the sea.

"Get down, Diana." His cold voice surprised him slightly, he felt more as if he were commanding a naughty child than his grief stricken wife, and she seemed to catch on to it as well. A cold rage simmered, overshadowing her grief.

Her silver dress billowed around her, and she glared at him. "The servants whisper that it was Amory Lorch that saw her kill herself, right before Ser Jonothor stabbed him in the stomach. Others say he pushed her, but then again, why would a woman pushed be writing of the dead calling?" She tilted her head further back, arms resting at her side, as if listening to voices in the wind.

They say when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin and Westeros holds its breath. Yet with Diana, he felt he was rolling the dice, would he see madness or greatness in her today? Her haunted voice made him cringe, he knew her dreams had truths hidden in them, too many had come to pass to allow him to disbelieve, but he also knew that her dreams seemed to control her fate as much as she controlled herself. She had fallen apart for nearly a month when her grandfather passed away, and she had dreamed of him burning the night before a raven reached them with news. 

"Do the dead call often?" He asked her dryly, curious to see if his assumption was correct. Her sister's final words would stick with her for the rest of her days, he knew, but he could not help but wonder if she had an inkling of what was to come before it happened. He loved her, but for the sake of the kingdoms, he needed to know.

Diana stomped her foot as a child would, her bare feet softly thudding against the thin bit of stone she stood upon, and he was tempted to grab her and force her down. "The dead scream, Tywin!" Her breaths were pants, her chest rising and falling with each huff. "There is so much blood on my hands, the blood of my own family!" Her palms were red, streaked from the half moon indents of her nails boring into them, he fought back a wince.

"Dragons have danced and killed for generations." Tywin stated flippantly, taking another step towards her, "Soon, there will be no others to challenge us, peace will come, I promise." He would ensure it, for her sake, for the sake of their children.

His words were meant to soothe her, but rage filled her instead, her lip curling back into a snarl. "A dragon alone in the world is a terrible thing." Her words seemed strange on her tongue, as if they were not her own. She turned from him then, refusing to face him, looking out into the rising sun on the horizon. He moved to respond, but the doors to the Queen's chambers opened without a knock, or if there was one he never heard it.

Gold cloaks shook in their armor, "Your grace! The dragon, it's-" Realization dawned on him then: the screech of grief did not echo, it came from two different points. A shadow loomed over them, blocking most of the sun from the sky. Brightfyre was hatched less than six moons ago, yet was already the size of the largest war horse he had ever owned. Red scales glinted in the light as he circled, slowly descending to latch his claws down on the marbled stone next to his mother.

Diana made eye contact with the dragon, and seemed to speak without words. Tears wet her lashes and she smiled the same smile she gave only to her children at the beast. Everyone was still, no man made sound could be heard, only the rustle of the ocean and the steady thrum of the dragon's gulping breaths. She did not even look at him, "I want to leave for Dragonstone, Daemon and his wife may rule in our stead until you return from Storm's End." Diana had not been to her ancestral seat in years, but she suddenly missed it. Tywin remembered the stories she would tell her children, of how she would push and throttle on every stone on the island, looking for secret passageways. Her knowing smile when the children would ask if she ever found any was the only answer he needed.

She had spent months attempting to erase every image of dragons from the Red Keep, commissioning lion motifs at every turn, and she wished to go to the dragonmount now? "Diana, you are Queen, you must rule while I am away at war." His voice was neutral, but held a hard edge to it. 

The gold cloaks watched the exchange in silence, gawking at the beast before them. Diana cooed at the dragon and ran her hands along his scales, and he noticed for the first time the hints of silver within the red scales of Brightfyre. Her violet eyes loomed over him, "Then I want my sister's bones brought here, and laid to rest within the Sept of Baelor, with our ancestors."

His jaw clenched, would she ask for a grand procession when Rhaegar's corpse joined the body count? Rhaella was her sister, but to him she was a powerful piece on the board, destroying the Queen wins the game. "The High Septon will not approve, the Seven Pointed Star frowns upon suicide."

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Where was the tactician, the general of so many battles in this moment? Lost at the sight of his beloved wife, his Diana, with hair shorn and body barely healed of bruises. 

A roar filled the open space then that sent the guards scurrying out of the room as if it were a dismissal. Brightfyre breathed in again, as if to repeat the rage he already bellowed, when Diana spoke instead. "I will burn the Septon alive before anyone denies my sister the right to enter the Seventh Heaven." Grief was a twisted thing, and it burned through his wife like wildfire. “It was he who annulled our marriage in favor of…” The dragon snarled again before she could bring herself to mutter her brother’s name.

"A private ceremony then." Tywin conceded, he had decided the moment he ordered the peasant's death to not tell his wife there was no body to be found. Better to let her use a stranger's bones as a proxy than allow her to grieve for a watery grave.

He fixed his stare at the beast then, a seed of fear blooming in him then. "He is growing too large to be kept in the Red Keep, I shall order the renovations of the dragon pit." Tywin did not like the way the beast flew to his wife's side with such ease when he was not obedient enough to listen should his presence cause strife. Tywin would rather simply chain the thing and be done with it, but his wife was as protective of the dragon as she was her own children and the way they had bonded unnerved him. Would the intimacy they shared be replaced with the one she now had with a creature of blood and fire? It wounded him in a way he did not expect, she was the first Lannister Queen, his queen, yet she clung to Brightfyre rather than him.

Diana only nodded at him then, and he held his hand out to her. Her warm skin met his and she finally dismounted from her perch atop the balcony. "Construction may begin once Jaime is wedded and bedded to the Stark girl, and Elia Martell is a Stark herself." He had to admit, his son was rather clever on that end. He was not able to secure a Lannister marriage with the Martells, but Rickard Stark preened at the idea of having both his daughter and good daughter be princesses, while two of his sons were to be lords in their own rights. Perhaps he could arrange for his cousin Johanna's heir to be wed to a Reach bride, connecting the major players in the game to the throne through blood. The Lannister legacy would spread to all seven kingdoms, Tywin would ensure it, for Diana’s sake, for their children’s sake.

Chapter Text

Steffon Baratheon curled his lip at the fat flower, Mace Tyrell. The man wore golden armor that was so heavily etched with roses, one might mistake him for a bush. For months, he endured the Reachman's mocking of how the dragon would fly down soon enough, raining fire and blood. He was left in the dark on most news, ravens being shot down as soon as they flew close enough to the castle. Only a small ship bearing liver and onions and a single boat of Redwyne men had made it through the siege to deliver supplies or news, and the Stormlord did all he could to keep morale up.

Robert had already been in the Vale when war broke out in honest, and Steffon had just begun to assemble the Stormlord's in the Baratheon seat when the Reach marched into their lands. He cursed the fat flower for thinking himself a warrior, when Mace had sat and drank wine while watching Storm's End starve. Stannis was already gaunt, and Steffon had learned that his second son was giving part of his rations to his toddler brother, Renly. Steffon knew that the castle was not prepared for a siege of this magnitude, his lady wife had allowed the neighboring smallfolk to take refuge in Storm's End, but it had tripled the amount of mouths to feed.

Hope fell from his eyes as soon as it sprung at the sight of ships on the horizon, guided by a single flag ship, large and looming. A snarling, three headed dragon decorated the bow, and with trepidation, Steffon recognised the ship, Queen Rhaella's Grace . The Targaryen's had come to the flower's aid after all.

From atop the battlements of Storm's End, Steffon cursed to himself as the few Redwyne ships at sea seemed to flee from the twenty ships weaving into Shipbreaker Bay. Mace Tyrell rode out with a few of his men, as well as servants carrying wine and hearty foods. The Baratheon Lord felt his stomach lurch at the sight of the food he had been without, and turned to his soldiers, who looked ready to drop their swords and raise the white flag. "Men, we are Stormlanders! We are the storm, and we will not surrender our lands to a mad king!" From his position above the vast keep where the men stood guard, he saw the resolve, the fury that his house was known for. Aerys was no Aegon the Conqueror, they saw no need to bend the knee, empty stomachs or not. He drew his sword from the sheath it rested in, raising it into the light before turning to his second son, Stannis. "Go to your mother and brother, you are their last line of defense. If the lord falls, then they will slaughter the men that guard the lady's door." With a grim nod, the young lord left his father.

The thunder of hooves filled the air, men riding towards the gate. Steffon walked the perimeter, where archers knocked their arrows. When the men stopped at the gate, the Stag loomed over the perch he hid to face his enemies.

"Open the gate, Lord Baratheon." On a large black war horse with a golden saddle, sat Tywin Lannister with a crown of gold atop his head. "My Queen would be rather disappointed if I were forced to break down the doors of her dear cousin." Behind him were servants carrying crates of supplies, and casks of wine, sweet arbor gold.

"Open the gates to your king!" Steffon shouted, and nearly fainted from relief and exhaustion.

/*/*/*/*/

Jaime stared impatiently as the ships appeared on the horizon, banners of black, red and gold appearing. As much as his father curled his lip at the dragon etchings on the royal fleet, Queen Rhaella's Grace was a flagship that rivaled that of the Lannister's own prize, Brightroar. He had waited months for this moment. Months of bickering and planning, all for this day. With the Tyrell's brought to heel, King Tywin turned his ships towards Dorne. The Fall of the Fat Flower, they called it.

Jaime had grown up hearing the stories of his father's cruelty, the rains of Castamere played often at the Rock, and whispers of his mother's madness circulated now and again. His mind still haunts him with the image of Gregor Clegane's hands burning, his lady mother's blank, cold stare as she pinned the boy with her own hands, yet her flesh never burned. Perhaps that was when he should have realized what his family was capable of, yet he did not truly comprehend it until the Targaryen ship docked with Lannister men. The three snarling dragon heads that were once carved onto the mouth of the ship had been removed, the bloodied heads of Mace Tyrell, and two faces decayed beyond recognition sat upon the dragon's stump necks, a mockery of the sigil. As the ship loomed closer, Jaime guessed the other two heads were that of Lords Tarly and Fossoway, the generals under the Fat Flower.

The time had finally come, his father refused to allow him to ride in search of Lyanna. ' We do not know where she is, or if she is even alive. Would you ride through the seven kingdoms in search of a dead girl?' The king was only concerned with bringing the seven kingdoms together under a Lannister rule, but all the crown prince wanted was his beloved Lyanna, who he had claimed beneath the weirwood trees, who he would claim until the sight of the Seven in the Sept.

Jaime refused to wed anyone other than Lyanna, but without means to rally the North himself, he was left without men. He had written to Brandon time and time again, but the Stark heir had not replied. Perhaps he was with his injured father and brother, or gaining glory like Robert had in the Battle of the Bells. Tywin had sent his son with Riverlanders under the command of Brynden Tully, not Jaime himself. He split the forces of the Trident between the two Tully brothers, sending Hoster by land.

Slowly, the ships carrying the men of the North, Stormlands, West and parts of the Vale descended. The Riverlands were marching by foot, engaging in skirmishes with fleeing loyalists. Why would they flee towards Dorne, why not turn towards Highgarden, hide in the trees rather than scorch themselves in the desert? 

The glint in his father's crown and the glow of his crimson armor gave Tywin Lannister away from his spot atop the flagship, and Jaime noticed Jon Arryn, Brandon Stark and Steffon Baratheon among them.

When they docked the Prince of Dorne bowed the smallest amount possible without being rude, and Jaime shook hands with his father. The king curled his lip the smallest bit at the small circlet that served as Jaime's current crown. "King Tywin Lannister, first of his name." Doran greeted, "Welcome to Dorne."

The Lannister king smiled tightly at the prince, "Thank you, Prince Doran. I look forward to welcoming you to King's Landing, and accepting your oath of fealty." Ever calculating, an invitation veiled as a threat. 

"One can easily be given now." Doran replied, "I represent Dorne, and you the Iron Throne."

"Queen Diana was hoping that you would be there when Ned Stark weds your sister, the Princess Elia. They are to be wed before the Heart's Tree as well as the Sept." Tywin replied, and Jaime quirked a brow at that. Would that be something Lyanna would desire? She kept the Old Gods, he knew, it was his dream to wed her in every way possible.

"Perhaps it is Queen Diana Targaryen we should be swearing our fealty to." Oberyn goaded,  "She is the Dragon Queen after all." His angered smile set Jaime's teeth on edge, the Red Viper loved to push other people's buttons.

"My Queen and wife has been a Lannister since she was wed at sixteen namedays," Tywin ground out, only a flicker of anger from his calm and collected mask of indifference, "A shame no lord is willing to give his daughter to a second son, with a sister set to inherit before him."

The air seemed electric then, and glances were thrown to various members of the scene. Brandon Stark seemed at a loss of what to do, while Jon Arryn just looked uncomfortable. "Father, you have had a long and bloody journey, surely you would wish to rest. Allow me to show you where you may rest and we may speak." Jaime cut in then, and Doran nodded his assent before Oberyn had a chance to use his sharp tongue.

The Lannister king and prince walked together into the Dornish seat, silent as the grave. Once they were away from the crowd, having been dispersed to each go to their own chambers, Jaime led his father to a small hall prepared with wine and meats. The prince poured each of them a glass of wine before pinning his father with a stare. "The Dornish have been brought into the fold, I have done my duty. I ride tomorrow to search for Lyanna."

Tywin quirked a knowing smile that had Jaime gritting his teeth. "No you are not. We shall rest here for two days, and then march to the border of Dorne and the Stormlands, where Rhaegar is propping up what is left of the loyalists."

"I need to go to Lyanna!" Jaime shouted, "When mother was kept in King's Landing, you marched there within the month! It has been nearly eight moons!"

The Lannister king only shrugged, and took a sip of his wine. "If you can tell me where she is, I shall send you with a hundred men to rescue the maiden." The way he used the word maiden had his teeth on edge, had mother told him that Jaime had taken the girl’s maidenhood? Or was it a jab at the fact that Rhaeger was no doubt raping her as they spoke? 

Jaime growled then, and began to pace, taking a large gulp of his own glass of wine. Dornish Red was growing on him, slowly but surely. "You speak as if you know where she is." The heir stopped pacing then, realization dawned on him as he repeated, "You know where she is!"

Tywin smiled coldly, "All of your mother's rage, but none of your father's cunning. Who is left that is loyal to Rhaegar?" Green eyes gleamed with dark truth, his father was goading at him, testing his worthiness to be his heir.

"A few minor houses, now that the Tyrell's influence on the Reach has been snuffed out." Jaime replied after a moment of thought, tempering down his rage.

"Not houses, which men are loyal to the dragon prince?" Tywin tried again, his golden crown catching the light. The thing was ostentatious, with a roaring lion, and Jaime felt his simple circlet crown was inept in comparison.

Jaime furrowed his brow at his father's question, "The only Kingsguard left alive are Arthur Dayne and Lewyn Martell."

"And what do they share in common, other than their white cloaks?" Tywin proceeded, waving his hand in an onward motion.

Jaime was confused for a moment, Dayne was years older than the prince turned Kingsguard...but they shared Rhoynar blood. "They are both Dornish!"

"The Rhoynar resisted the dragon for years, they remained a princely house because they joined the Iron Throne through marriage, and have killed dragons before." Tywin reminded his son, "And now the fallen troops in the Stormlands run to lick their wounds not on their own soil, but on the border between Baratheon and Martell lands, why would that be?"

"Because the Dornish hold no love to the Iron Throne, especially compared to their prince and Sword of the Morning." Jaime replied. Rage filled him then, the Dornish protected their own, and even whispers of men in white armor were not shouted as they should have been.

"Rhaegar is no doubt protecting his prisoner as if she were his queen." Tywin commented, "The Kingsguard would not stray too far from either of them."

Jaime stared his father down, "So you would have me slay the dragon and rescue the maiden?" Green eyes met green, "Or just kill the last man who stands in the way of the crown you always wanted."

Tywin chuckled, "Would you prefer to give the glory to Brandon Stark? He is quite eager to kill the man who took his sister."

"I want Lyanna!" Jaime snarled.

"And you will never have her as long as Rhaegar lives." Tywin replied evenly, "March with us towards Nightsong, and kill the man who dared to take what is yours."

"And then?" Jaime asked, only for his father to give him an odd smile, a feral one Jaime had never seen before.

"And then you may marry your wolf girl, should she still be alive." The king replied, "Spies and scouts are scouring the lands, the Dornish may love their own, but when drinks flow, lips are loose."

Chapter Text

Diana had not mourned so fully since her grandfather had passed. Yet this time there was no husband to comfort her, and she did not want him to. Tywin had snuffed the life of her sister with a single command, and left to wage war within a week of the news. Sandor Clegane had become her shadow, a kingsguard in all but name on her husband's orders. In dresses of black, the Queen held a solemn court, although she knew she was the only one grieving the former queen, everyone else prayed and worried over the men sent to war on both sides.

Diana had laid what was once her sister's bones to rest with the rest of her family, an urn of ashes to be placed with the long royal line. With the week of customary grieving done, the Queen was expected to make an appearance, yet instead Diana hid for another week. It was Alysanne who insisted she hold court, lest the rumor mill continue. Sitting atop the Iron Throne, the courtiers looked like mice in a field of many colors. Alliances were forged in times like these, and it seemed every house in Westeros had sent their unwed daughters to be presented to the Dragon Queen, a woman known to make strong marriage matches. With sigils embroidered on dresses or color coded into the silks, the people below her seemed more like a history lesson than a group of nobles.

In a silver gown with a hooded man guiding the way along her hem, Alyssa Banefort, formerly of house Velaryon, was a sight for sore eyes. Her daughter followed in her footsteps, sharing her mother's coloring of dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. They both curtsied before the throne, and Diana smiled warmly, surprising the courtiers who tittered about. "Lady Banefort, it has been too long."

"Indeed it has, your grace." They shared mischievous smiles, as old friends are wont to do. "May I present my daughter, the Lady Talla Banefort."

Diana smiled at the awestruck girl, she must have been at least fourteen name days now. "This lovely maiden cannot be the squealing babe that once claimed my ruby earring as her own personal toy?"

Talla blushed scarlet and spoke up then, "My lady mother saved the earring, your grace, as a keepsake. She will surely return it if you wish." Her blunt words had Diana laughing, the first time in a long while, and at the ringing sound of their queen's giggle was heard, others echoed. The tension that had held the air for so long seemed to be finally dissipating. 

"That will not be necessary, Lady Talla." Diana replied, a gracious smile upon her lips. "You have raised a wonderful daughter, Lady Alyssa. I would honor her with a position in my household."

The Banefort Lady smiled graciously, "You honor house Banefort, your grace. I am sure my daughter will enjoy her time in the capital as much as I did as a girl."

Diana grinned at her long time friend. It was a shame Daemon had wed Lynda Whent, Talla was a bright girl, and the queen thought it a nice image of her and her childhood friend sharing grandchildren.

At the mention of an appointment within the royal household, the court had broken out into whispers. There was no official announcement of any positions within the Red Keep before this moment, leaving rumors to fly on who would occupy which seat on the Small Council. Diana waved a hand to silence them, she would not speak on it now.

With the Banefort ladies curtsying, they walked to the area that stood other Western ladies, as a young woman in orange silk walked forward. Elia Martell had grown since the last Diana saw her, a frail thing that would be crushed by the weight of a crown. The Dornish maiden still looked sickly, but her health seemed to have steadied itself. She bowed deeply, and with a strong Dornish accent pronounced, "Queen Diana."

Next to her was Ashara Dayne, glaring daggers at the air rather than look towards the queen upon the Iron Throne. Diana quirked an eyebrow at the maiden, yet said nothing of it. "Princess Elia Martell, and Lady Ashara Dayne." Diana mimicked, "Welcome back to court, although I trust you will find it different than you last saw it."

"There are no dragon skulls." Ashara murmured, noticing the airier room. Elia nodded at her friend, noticing the change as well, although she seemed to know better than to comment on it.

"We do not sit with the bodies of our ancestors next to us, so I would not condemn my Brightfyre to the same fate." Diana replied, eyes flickering to the far end of the room, where beyond, Brightfyre was out flying, patrolling the keep. "Besides, Dragonbone is a rare thing."

The queen turned to her daughter then, "Princess Alysanne will show you to your chambers, Princess Elia. Your betrothed, Lord Eddard Stark, is in the Maester's tower with his Lord Father, should you wish to see him." Diana stood with a flourish of dread black silks, her golden crown glinting in the light of her short, silver hair as she descended the Iron Throne. "Court is adjourned for the day, should anyone need a private audience, speak to the Royal Steward, Ser Derion Dondarrion." Whispers broke out once more, yet another appointment. Ser Derion was the brother to the acting lord, Ser Beric, and had been sent to King's Landing with two letters, both from King Tywin, one a royal command to be shared, ordering his appointment, and the other was a personal one for her.

He wrote of how the Reachmen had greeted them at the dock of Shipbreaker Bay with open arms, mistaking the Targaryen ships for the dragons themselves. The remaining forces that were able and willing to continue fighting a lost battle fled towards the Dornish Mountains, near where Rhaegar was rumored to be hiding away, amidst the towers and keeps that fell into disuse over the years of civil wars within the area. Tywin assured the loyalty of the Stormland house that fell closest to the border with the incentive of a powerful position in the royal house, one that dueled as taking a hostage should things go wrong.

Diana made her way to the small Sept within the Red Keep, one used by her ancestor, Baelor the Blessed, before he built the Great Sept. The statues of the Seven were carved from fine, cool marble, and placed in a semicircle in the small room. Most did not even know the room was there, just off the former royal quarters behind a plain looking door with a heavy lock. As she prayed before the Mother to bless and watch over her children, the single entrance to the small Sept opened, spooking the Queen. Diana was so sure she was the only one to have a key to this space, it was sacred to her, her fingers gripped the hilt of the small dagger she kept on her always.

"Your grace." A simpering voice greeted, and Diana almost struck the Eunuch before her. She rose to her feet, glaring at the man. Varys had not made an appearance since she hatched her dragon, and both she and Tywin had assumed he had fled. Yet there he was, blocking the only door with a small smile. From his sleeve, he pulled forth a letter with no seal, "One of my little birds intercepted this, a good thing considering Maester Pycelle has a love of reading other's letters." Pycelle had always been as much Tywin's creature as hers, but she had no doubt he would betray her to help the Lannister king, yet there were few things that Diana hid from her husband.

Diana eyed the Spider warily, but took the offered parchment and cracked the wax. The regal handwriting had her palms sweating.

Di,

Thank you.

-Sarella

It was short, stupidly simple, but it gave her such hope. As children, Rhaella and Diana loved to play make believe, imagining their own fantastic tales. Their favorite was playing as foreign ladies, enraptured with the wild colors and fashion produced in the free cities. Rhaella would be Sarella Everstar from Pentos and Diana pretended to be Lilyana Brightmoon from Essos, and they would wrap themselves in bright silks and speak with butchered thick accents. It was the surefire way that Rhaella would accept the letter she sent with Tywin Surefoot as authentic, as well as the crown of Rhaella's princess days.

Varys waited for her to finish gaping at the few words written before speaking, "It was quite clever, forging a suicide note and smuggling Queen Rhaella through the Dragonmont, very few people know of the secret passages within the Targaryen keeps." He held back a clear grin of knowledge, of course he also knew of the passages.

Diana glared at the Spider, "Why would you show me this? Surely you have alerted the king of the news of my sister's living state."

"To secure my position on the small council." Varys simpered, "I serve the realm, your grace. Not any king or queen."

"And how does this serve the realm?" Diana shot back, her hands shaking slightly. It was not like she could kill him, Varys was too clever to be the sole holder of such information.

"The Lady Sarella and her husband, Lord Jon Everstar recently arrived in Pentos, with their newborn daughter, Dany." Varys informed her, "They say the lady has hair as purple as her eyes, while their daughter inherited her father's blond hair."

Husband? Diana grit her teeth, "And who is this Jon?" The Queen imagined her sister, with dyed lilac hair holding a newborn girl, yet the child's image only reflected how Alysanne had looked as a babe, not with blond hair, her heart ached to hold her niece, to congratulate her sister on another child, hoping it would soften the blow of losing Viserys.

"A rather bold fellow." Varys replied secretly, "My little birds whisper of how he sought out something that would color hair golden, but safe to use on skins as sensitive as a babe's. He claimed to have sensitive skin, yet he and the child share hair color now."

Ser Barristan! The knight was thought to have fled in cowardice, or killed without a body to recover. "You never answered my question, Lord Varys, how do you serve the realm by keeping a secret such as this?"

The spider smiled then, "I do not condone the killing of babes in their mother's belly. Neither do you, Queen Diana, King Tywin however…" He shrugged, "The realm bleeds heavily enough with war, why prolong it with a death the world has already thought to have occurred? And besides, this knowledge surely proves my capability as Master of Whispers."

Ah, there it was. He was blackmailing her, dangling the life of her sister and newborn niece before her to keep his own power in place. "I will ensure you keep your title." Diana bit out. “But I expect your…little birds…to allow me a letter every now and then from the Free Cities to be delivered without prying eyes.”

"Thank you, your grace. I shall leave you to your prayer." Varys simpered, and left with a soft thud of the door closing behind him.

Diana knelt before the mother once more, a new prayer blooming in her heart, " Mother of Mercy, please, please, watch over my sister. Let her be happy…"