[1298 Words, Extremely Important Note at the end Must Read]
—Westeros, Westernlands, Casterly Rock, Tywin's Chambers, 291 AC—
[Tywin Lannister POV]
I read the letter that my brother gave me, then I read it again, and once more, my brain, even after my many experiences, was still in disbelief at the words in the letter.
All had been proceeding as I had planned. Cersei was wed to that fat fool, Robert, the union securing our hold upon the Iron Throne. She had done her duty in bearing children, heirs who, in time, would sit where kings belong. In a handful of years, Joffrey would have relieved Jaime from his white cloak, restoring my son to his rightful place at my side and heir to Casterly Rock.
And yet… she could not manage even the simplest expectation. To raise a king, or at the very least, to cloak his darker impulses behind the mask required of all rulers. A lion may be feared, but a king must be obeyed, not despised.
Still… there was Axel.
For now, the boy would take the throne. A better choice, if the truth were to be spoken plainly, though born too late to serve my original design. A cruel jest of fate, that the more capable lion comes second. Had he been first… the realm would have been under Lannister rule with no question or contention.
I rose from my seat and crossed toward the window, my hands clasped behind my back. Below, the waves of the Sunset Sea crashed against the cliffs of Casterly Rock, tireless and unyielding, as every Lannister should be.
The sea does not falter, does not err. It simply endures, and in that, there is a lesson most fail to grasp.
A knock sounded at the chamber door.
"Come in," I said, my voice even, though my patience wore thin.
If it concerned that thi... no wretched Imp, I might yet lose what little tolerance remained to me. Too many matters pressed at once, and all of them, it seemed, required my input.
The door opened, and my brother Kevan entered, a bundle of parchment held firmly in his grasp. I raised a brow at the sight.
"Brother," Kevan began, and there was a slight tone of something in his voice I had not heard in some time, relief, even satisfaction.
"These are the latest reports from the mines. The yield has surpassed all expectations. A new vein has been discovered; it's rich and promising. Men are already set to work upon it."
I looked at him in silence for a second.
The strain that had long shadowed his words when speaking of our gold was gone. In its place stood quiet confidence. At last, something in this realm moves as it ought to.
"That is well enough," I said at last, my voice even and cold, "now tell me, what are your thoughts regarding the situation in King's Landing?"
My tone had its usual chill, measured and distant, as it ever was with all save one. Joanna alone had ever drawn warmth from me, and she was long gone from this world. If she yet lived… if that wretched dwarf had never drawn breath… what path might our house have walked instead?
My gaze drifted to her portrait that hung upon the stone wall, her likeness captured in oils yet lacking the life that had once filled her eyes.
Kevan took the letter from my hand and read it through as I had, his eyes moving across the lines. I allowed him the silence to consider, though my own thoughts had already reached their end. The past cannot be undone. Joanna would not return, and the wretched dwarf remained. Such truths are not matters for lament, but for endurance.
At last, my brother spoke.
"I think you should have letters sent," he said, his voice measured and thoughtful, "to Cersei, to Axel, and to Joffrey. Though Cersei most of all must be addressed. Still… the decision rests with you, brother."
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, though there was little need. His counsel mirrored my own plan, as it often did. Kevan was an ever-steady left hand, reliable, precise.
"So it shall be," I said.
I seated myself once more and set quill to parchment. The letters took shape beneath my hand with deliberate care.
Those meant for Joffrey and Axel were brief, composed with restraint, each word chosen so that if anyone saw it, it revealed nothing that might be turned against me, nothing that might weaken the authority of House Lannister.
Cersei's letter, however, was another matter.
That one I wrote at length.
It did not only have my displeasure, but my will, clear and not to be mistaken. Instructions, not suggestions. She would be reminded of her duty, the duty that she carried, and how she had thus far failed to meet.
—Westeros, Dorne, Sunspear, Doran's Solar, 291 AC—
[Doran Martell POV]
Hmm… this is very interesting.
It would seem the children of Robert Baratheon are not so united as the realm might believe. Discord festers where there should be unity and strength; such wounds hardly heal cleanly.
Yet this serves our purpose well, most especially for Rhaenys. Should the Seven Kingdoms be drawn into strife from within, her path to conquest will be made all the smoother.
As I thought that, my gaze wandered beyond the balcony of my solar, looking to the Water Gardens below. There, beneath the Dornish sun, the three Sand Snakes moved in a quick, practiced movement, each testing the other with spears, daggers, and whips.
In another corner of the gardens, my daughter Arianne walked in quiet conversation with her dear companion, Elaena Sand. The girl has proven a fine addition to Arianne's circle.
Where others bring ambition or fire, Elaena has a softness, a kind of unspoiled innocence that tempers Arianne's nature, even now as she's nearly fully grown.
And not far from them, Rhaenys, my niece, trained under the watchful eye of Oberyn, her movements precise, and her form steady.
Unlike her mother, she possesses a strength of body that serves her well, and with each passing year, she grows further into herself, a woman of great beauty and will, much like Arianne.
Yet she has not missed her mother's sharper gifts. There is a sharp wit in her, quick and keen, ready to cut at anyone who earns her displeasure. A dangerous trait, if left untempered… but a useful one, if guided well.
Yes… We will be ready, in time, to set certain plans into motion across Westeros.
But not yet.
Time is still required, time for Rhaenys to grow, and more than that, time for her to remain untouched by the burdens that await her. Childhood is a fleeting thing, and though crowns and wars care little for such matters, I do.
If the unrest in King's Landing continues, we may yet be able to grant her a little longer beneath the sun, free of the burden that will one day rest upon her shoulders.
Still, my thoughts turn to another matter.
I await word from Ser Willem Darry regarding the match between Viserys Targaryen and Arianne. Though we have Rhaenys, I will not see history repeat itself in fire and blood. Another Dance of the Dragons… another Blackfyre Rebellion… such divisions would undo all we strive to build.
If it must come to war, then let it be among enemies, not family. Yet that concern lies in the days ahead. For now, I want to have this peace endure.
Let it stretch on, as long as the gods will allow, so that whether we rise victorious or fall to ruin, Rhaenys and Arianne alike may carry with them some measure of joy… some memory of warmth… before everything starts.
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Extremely Important Note Must Read: Starting Chapter 17, I will write entirely by myself with only Grammarly to help. Here is a preview of Chapter 18: The Royal Family Arrival in the North
—Westeros, The North, Winterfell, Godswood, 298 AC—
Catelyn Stark, nee Tully, walked through the street sellers and smallfolk of Winterfell, making her way to the godswood.
She saw her husband, Eddard Stark, sharpening his sword as he sat on a log. She has a slightly sad look on her face as she fumbles with a letter hidden by the long sleeves of her dress.
"All of these years, and I feel like an outsider whenever I come here." She began to say, trying to find something to stretch the time she had before she told her husband of the sad news from King's Landing.
Ned looked around, trying to see if there was something off with the Godswood. "You have 5 beautiful, handsome, and strong northern children; you are no outsider here, at least not to me."
Ned replied, his tone filled with pride and love for his children and wife as he looked into her eyes earnestly, which only made Cat feel more sadness for what she would have to tell him.
"I wonder if the old gods would agree," Cat replied with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, trying to draw this out even a little longer. "It's your gods with all the rules."
Ned replied, but sensing something was wrong, he looked into Cat's eyes, and she knew that she could not wait any longer.
[Author's Note: If you're confused about anything, stick with me; I'm making this as we go! Did you like the changes I made? Yes, no, leave a comment and tell me I will do what I can, so leave a review and tell me what you may want to see; and as you know, this is a harem, so who would you want in it?
Disclaimer: I have a rough idea of where this is going, but I haven't mapped out every single detail or an overarching idea. So if you have suggestions to make the story better or who you might want to see, please leave a comment and review! I hope you like the story. While I do use AI, I don't think it is slop, and if there is any, I will try to change it and or add humanity into it, but just give me a chance.
Next time: So the next chapter will show the rest of the other reactions.
Ending Note: Thank you for the support. Have a great( if you're not religious) and or blessed day, and check out my other account where I publish Og novels. It's called Fiction_Dragon! :)]