PART III: The Old Wolf
The heavy door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit office lined with dark oak shelves burdened by rows of leather-bound ledgers and ancient tomes. Shadows clung to the corners like whispered secrets, and the faint scent of pipe smoke lingered in the air.
At a broad desk sat Governor Tywin, his sharp eyes lifting from a stack of parchment as Nex and Sao entered. His presence filled the room—every inch a man who ruled with cold precision and iron will.
"Congratulations on your victory in the swamps, son. Now… who is it you've brought me this time, Sao?" Tywin's voice was calm, almost amused—like a father humoring a child's little game. But beneath the smoothness was a blade's edge, honed and waiting.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes narrowing just enough to suggest he was savoring the moment. "Another one of your little shadows to parade before me, I suppose. Do tell—what grand tale have you woven around this one?"
Sao straightened slightly at the word congratulations—shoulders back, chin lifted. He didn't smile, not fully, but the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes betrayed him.
"A surprise, Father," Sao said, gesturing to Nex with a theatrical sweep of his hand. "One I doubt even you saw coming."
"Oh? Is that so."
Tywin rose from his seat with unhurried grace. His hand drifted toward a polished cane leaning against the desk—then stopped. He let it rest where it was. Instead, he stepped forward unaided, the soft thud of his boots against the stone floor echoing faintly.
Out of the shadows he came, stepping into the dim lantern light—revealing the man behind the voice.
His hair, once golden, had faded to steely gray, brushed back with the precision of a man who valued discipline over vanity. A neatly trimmed beard framed his sharp mouth, streaked silver like frost gathering at dawn.
But it was his eyes that caught Nex—cold, sharp, and strikingly blue.
Exactly like his.
And like Princess Aurora's.
The resemblance was unmistakable. And deeply unsettling.
He had heard the stories—how people said his mother's eyes were like shards of sapphire, impossible to forget. How much his mirrored hers.
And now, staring into the same icy glare from someone else…
It cut through him.
He stood now in full view—aged, yes, but like a mountain weathered by time: unyielding, commanding.
His voice, softened by emotion, regained its weight. "There isn't much in this empire I don't know, son it would be very hard to suprise me."
A pause. His eyes never left Nex.
Nex kept his head bowed, out of respect—or perhaps instinct. He couldn't bring himself to meet those piercing blue eyes.
Tywin's gaze lingered on him, sharp and assessing.
Then he noticed it—a faint streak of white threading through Nex's hair.
His smirk faltered. Faded. Replaced by something colder. Something closer to disbelief.
"…Look at me, boy," Tywin said, his voice low but firm. "I mean you no harm."
Nex looked up—and in that instant, their eyes met. The moment stretched, heavy with recognition that Nex couldn't understand, couldn't process. His chest tightened with something unnamed.
The same eyes. Cold, brilliant blue—unmistakable.
Tywin froze. For a flicker of a second, his composure cracked.
He noticed the way Nex tilted his head slightly when thinking—a gesture so familiar it made his breath catch. The same way Aurora used to...
Nex wore the eyes of his mother.
Eyes that had once ruled courts, commanded armies, and turned hearts to ice.
Princess Aurora's eyes.
Tywin took a step back, the weight of realization sinking behind his eyes.
Shaken—truly shaken for the first time in years—he stared at the boy before him.
His voice, when it came, was low. Uncertain. A man grasping a ghost.
"Prince Nex… son of Queen Aurora… is that you, boy?"
Tywin's words hung heavy in the air.
Before Nex could respond, Soa stepped forward, brow furrowed in confusion. His mind felt thick, sluggish—the exhaustion from the day's events and the shock of seeing his father's composure crack making it hard to think clearly. He glanced between his father and the prince, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in Tywin's tone.
"Princess, Father," Sao corrected gently, his voice steady but questioning. "She was never queen. A commoner who became a princess—that's what the records say."
Sao's loyalty wasn't to his father—not fully. It was to the throne, to the empire itself. Whatever personal ties bound him to Tywin, they paled in comparison to his devotion to the imperial line. That was where his true allegiance lay.
Tywin didn't react to his son's correction. He didn't so much as glance at him.
His gaze remained fixed on the boy in front of him—cold, unblinking, expectant.
Waiting.
The silence stretched. Nex's throat felt tight, his usual quick responses deserting him. All he could think about was a woman he'd never met, never known, yet somehow carried within him. And then, finally, the boy spoke—quiet, but certain.
"Nex. That's the name I was given by my father… yes."
Upon hearing the name, the old man cracked.
It was subtle at first—a flicker in his breath, a twitch in his jaw.
Then everything crumbled.
Tywin staggered back a step, as if struck by something invisible and long-feared. His face twisted—not with anger or pain, but with something deeper. Something ancient. Grief.
He reached out blindly, one hand gripping the edge of the desk while the other pressed to his chest. A choked breath escaped him, followed by another. And then—tears.
He dropped to his knees.
The governor of Lumen—once the empire's sharpest mind, its coldest and strongest noble—bowed before a boy, weeping.
"Aurora… Gods, you got her eyes…" His careful speech cracked, rougher now, more honest. "My little queen..."
He crawled forward and wrapped his arms around Nex, pulling him close as if afraid the boy would vanish if he let go. His voice broke completely, losing all pretense of refinement:
"I heard the rumors… they said you was alive. I didn't believe it—I couldn't. Thought it was just ghosts stories…"
His voice became a raw whisper in the boy's ear:
"But I was lookin'. I never stopped lookin'."
Nex and Sao stood frozen—confused, but for entirely different reasons. Sao's hand had moved instinctively to his sword hilt, not to draw it, but ready to step between his father and the prince if needed. The sight of his composed father reduced to tears left him reeling, unable to process what he was seeing.
To Nex, this man was a stranger. He had never met Tywin, had no memory of him, no reason to understand the storm behind his tears. But something in the embrace felt familiar in a way that made his chest ache—a connection to a mother he'd never known, never held, never heard speak his name.
But for Sao, it was something else entirely.
He had never seen his father falter—never seen him cry, or even raise his voice in anything other than measured control.
Tywin had always been composed, calculated, even in his rare displays of affection.
This was not the man he knew.
And yet here he was—undone by the presence of a boy Sao had dragged in from the street.
Tywin slowly pulled back, wiping his face with trembling hands. When he spoke again, his voice had returned to its careful cultivation, though it shook slightly.
"Father, how do you relate to the late Sword Princess Aurora? Don't tell me you and her were—"
Tywin's eyes flashed, cutting through the air like steel.
"How dare you imply I was anything but a loyal servant to the queen," he said deliberately, emphasizing the title with cold reverence. "And how dare you suggest I was with any woman other than your mother—whom I loved dearly, son."
Sao said nothing—but something in the way his father said it made him pause. Just for a heartbeat. His exhausted mind struggled to piece together what he was seeing, what it meant.
Sao shifted uncomfortably, stealing a glance at his father. Tywin rose slowly, wiping the remnants of tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand.
His legs trembled slightly, betraying the strength he'd just shown. With effort, he settled back into his chair, his usual iron composure fraying at the edges.
The room fell heavy with silence—one that Nex finally broke.
"How did you know my mother, Governor Tywin?" Nex's voice was steady, but the question carried weight he couldn't name. He found himself touching his hair absently, as if it might hold answers about the woman who'd given it to him.
Tywin's gaze fixed on the crown of Nex's head. "Guards, fetch me a bucket of water and something strong to strip dye."
The guards returned quickly, carrying the water and a rough cloth soaked in a sharp-smelling solution.
Tywin knelt beside Nex, cloth in hand, reaching out—when Soa stepped between them. The movement was instinctive, protective, even though his mind felt foggy with exhaustion.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his tone sharper than intended. His hand hovered near the hilt at his belt.
Tywin looked up, unshaken. "Revealing truth. Nothing more."
A pause. Then Sao stepped back slowly, gaze flicking between Nex and his father. His loyalty to the imperial line warred with his confusion, but something in Tywin's eyes—the quiet certainty—made him trust. He nodded once, reluctant but resolved.
Tywin pressed the cloth firmly against Nex's scalp. Slowly, the stained layers began to lift, revealing beneath them a crown of pure white hair of the imperial line.
Tywin's voice softened. "That hair has a name, boy. And it carries a legacy nothing can hide."
He reached for a letter opener on his desk. With practiced ease, he sliced through a small strip of parchment—too quickly. The blade nicked his finger, drawing a fine line of blood.
He barely flinched.
Sao watched warily as Tywin dipped his finger in the blood, his protective instincts still on edge despite his exhaustion.
"Hold still, Prince," Tywin murmured. "One wrong line, and your head will ignite in undying purple flames."
Nex's body tensed, but he remained still. Soa leaned in slightly, ready to intervene if needed—but said nothing.
With deliberate care, Tywin began to draw shapes on the crown of Nex's head, the blood glinting in the dim light. Each symbol came alive, as if etched by memory, not motion.
"Your hair…" Tywin said at last, "was never truly white. It's always been —just like your mother's."
Nex blinked, confused. His usual quick wit felt distant, unreachable. All he could think about was the woman who'd given him this hair, this blood, this legacy he'd never asked for.
"The white you've seen was not natural," Tywin explained. "It was a mask—concealment through ancient runes. A protection woven deep into your very skin i drew them on you years ago myself now i shall reverse their affect by drawing some more."
He stepped back, eyes narrowing.
As if on cue, a ripple passed through Nex's body. His fingers brushed his hair, and in that moment the strands began to shift—white giving way to black, spreading like ink in water. Silken and dark. He stared at the transformed strands in wonder and confusion, touching them as if they belonged to someone else.
At the same time, his eyes flared, sharpened into a piercing, midnight blue—intense and knowing.
The transformation was smooth, sudden—inevitable.
Tywin watched in silence, a rare flicker of awe breaking across his face.
"At last… your true self awakens."
His voice lowered, reverent.
"You look just as the prophecies foretold, young prince.
You carry a legacy that cannot be buried in dye or forgotten names or masks.
The Runes are your anicent right passed down through your family through ancient books and a lost language which only very few could speak.
So do the memories of sword and sorrow,
passed from your mother into you."
Nex's breath quickened, shallow and ragged.
The words echoed in his mind, louder than they had been spoken.
This could be it—the excuse his father needed. A reason to cut him off from the Imperial line. To cast him out. Disown him.
His chest tightened. Panic surged through his veins like fire, his vision blurring at the edges. His breath grew unsteady—short, sharp gasps that made his shoulders tremble.
Then a hand found his shoulder.
Sao's voice came low, steady. "Are you all right, young one?"
The question pierced through the fog of dread. Nex blinked rapidly, grounding himself, trying to focus on something—anything.
And then—
A hum.
Not in the room. Not in the present. But in memory.
Faint. Gentle. A lullaby lost to time and grief.
"Hmmmm… the birds have flew… young Nex has grew… yet he remains… even when it rains… the most beautiful boy… my lovely… Nex…"
It was Lucy's voice—soft, warm, and full of that aching, endless love only a mother could carry. Her song wrapped around his trembling mind like a blanket, soothing the storm.
He closed his eyes and leaned into the memory, into the melody, letting the panic ebb like a tide pulled by the moon.
When he opened them again, his breathing had slowed.
He nodded once, barely.
"I'm okay," he whispered. "I just… forgot what her voice sounded like. Until now."
Sao didn't press further. He simply squeezed the boy's shoulder once, then let go—letting the silence between them say what words couldn't.
Tywin stood across the chamber, half-shrouded in shadows, his eyes locked on something unseen. Then, without warning, he gasped—sharp and guttural—as his hand flew to his chest. His knees buckled slightly, forcing him to brace against the desk, fingers trembling.
Sao stepped forward, alarm flashing across his face.
"Father—are you all right?"
Tywin didn't answer.
His body shook once, and then his eyes began to bleed.
Thin crimson lines at first—barely more than tears—trickling down his cheeks. But they didn't stop. The blood flowed faster, carving dark trails down his face, dripping from his chin, until a small, pulsing stream stained the stone beneath him.
Sao froze.
"Father," he repeated, more cautious now.
Finally, Tywin turned his head—slowly, as if the motion cost him pain. His expression was calm. Detached.
"You may be wondering why I'm bleeding, young prince," he said, voice distant and hollow. "But fear not. It is temporary."
His tone was not reassuring.
"I was forbidden by them to use the runes. But today is no ordinary day. I had no choice."
Sao stepped closer—but something was wrong.
Tywin didn't look at him. Not directly. Not as a father should look at his son. His gaze passed over Sao like he was a stranger in the room—or worse, like he wasn't there at all.
For the first time in years, Sao felt cold in his father's presence. Not from fear. But from absence.
He wasn't hurt. He was… confused.
Tywin had never shown such indifference. Not even in their hardest moments. But now, it was as if the bond between them had been—cut.
Nex's memories spiraled, His eyes locked in on Tywin. The Grand Bazaar. Screams. Stone split open beneath his feet. Purple fire that burned flesh but spared the ground. His usual sharp mind felt sluggish, overwhelmed by the connections he was trying to make.
He asked Tywin.
"Was it you?" His voice cracked—half-accusation, half-prayer. "Did you cause the massacre?"
Tywin met his gaze, unmoving.
"No," he said evenly. "But I may know who did."
"Who?"
Nex's voice rose, raw and trembling — not just a question, but a demand carved out of fear and fury. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white. For a moment, his quick wit flickered back, sharp and desperate.
"Who did it?"
His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white. The images from the Bazaar still burned behind his eyes — screaming bodies, the rune pulsing in the earth, purple flames devouring human flesh.
Tywin's expression tightened, but his tone remained calm.
"That is not your concern."
"Not my concern?" Nex stepped forward, his breath sharp. "They killed—"
"I said I will handle it."
Tywin's voice had the weight of command now, colder than before.
"You will know when the time is right. Until then, do not chase shadows that could devour you."
"Then tell me what are runes and if i can use them."
Tywin answered with a higher tone "THAT is for another day for i will answer any question that is not relating to the runes."
Nex fell silent, but the fire in his eyes didn't fade. His mind felt thick, struggling to process everything—the transformation, the massacre, this stranger who claimed to have served his mother.
Nex's stare didn't falter. "Then tell me—how did you know my mother?"
"As I said," Tywin replied, voice returning to formality, "I served her. Long before she bore title or crown—when she was still a girl, younger than you. I followed her before anyone else ever dared to."
Sao stood silent, the full weight of it settling in. His tired mind struggled to process what he was hearing—no longer a story. No longer myth. The exhaustion made everything feel surreal, like a dream he couldn't wake from
Nex watched Tywin carefully, his thoughts a tangle of confusion and longing. He wanted to know more about this woman who'd given him everything yet remained a stranger. But the words wouldn't come—his usual quick responses lost in the overwhelming reality of what he was learning.
Then Tywin's voice cut the quiet again.
"Sao," he said, gaze steady but distant, "fetch a guard."
A pause. Then, gently, "And get some rest. You've done enough today."
Sao hesitated, his protective instincts warring with his exhaustion. His eyes lingered on the prince, then on his father. Then, wordless, he nodded and turned for the door.
Moments later, it opened again. A guard entered.
Tywin didn't look at him.
"Have the east chamber prepared," he said.
A beat passed. Then, with finality:
"My daughter's room."
His gaze flicked to Nex. "The prince will rest there tonight."
The guard bowed and gestured for Nex to follow.
Nex stepped forward, his mind still reeling from everything he'd learned. The transformation, the connection to his mother, the weight of a legacy he'd never asked for—it all swirled together in a way that left him feeling lost and found at the same time.
Tywin said nothing more.
He watched the boy disappear through the door. For a moment, the quiet returned. But the ache in his chest did not.
"She would have loved him," Tywin thought. "And I failed her again by finding him too late."
The door closed behind him with a quiet scrape—leaving behind silence, and truths that had only just begun to stir.