Drabbles: Shivering points of light (Lannister love)
Drabbles; Asoiaf; word count: 5x100; five shivering points of light in a history where Joanna didn't die giving birth to Tyrion. No spoilers but several allusions to things being hinted at in the books. Joanna/Tywin & the children.
1.
Jaime doesn’t look at her as she takes him in her arms when he is leaving. The knife twists inside her again, singing a song full of dull, urgent pain. I will miss your laughter more than anything in this world.
"Behave. Remember that you are the heir to Casterly Rock," she says, planting a kiss on his cheek.
"Then why is he being sent to Sunspear, mother?" Cersei’s voice is cold as ice, cold as Tywin’s as Joanna told him the truth.
"Because I say so," Tywin answers in her place, knowing she can’t bear it.
2.
He feels his fury stiffen to ice in his veins when he steps into the Red Keep. The stench of battle is thick here, drowning out everything else.
"Tywin! I didn’t think you’d come."
"A Lannister always pays his debts, Your Grace." Did you think she wouldn’t tell me?
"I'm grateful."
You always were mad. Tywin looks at Clegane beside him, nodding.
Aerys is dead in less than heartbeat, his face smashed to pulp and severed from his body. Unflinching, Tywin steps over the corpse of the man he’s known since boyhood.
"Joanna sends her regards."
3.
Tywin Lannister offers no apologies, no other explanations than those he serves on the fields of battle. War is war.
"She was your friend," he says all the same. It has been a long journey; he is glad she waited for him. "The children-"
"Steel and fire." Joanna turns around, closes the distance between them. "I understand."
"We came late to the cause-"
She shakes her head, a fingertip tracing the line of his jaw. Her gaze is pensive, but her hands are warm as ever, her breath like cleansing fires. "I understand, Tywin."
4.
"Please! I-I didn’t mean-"
"What’s your name, girl?"
She cannot be older than Tyrion, Joanna thinks. This low-born, graceless, cringing creature kneeling in front of her. A whore, Tywin had claimed. She is less certain but it makes little difference either way. You will not make a mockery of my family, foolish child.
"T-tysha, m’Lady."
"Get out, Tysha. Leave my son alone. If you should return, I will let my lord husband deal with you." Her mouth tightens. "He will not be merciful."
Neither will I, she thinks, smoothing out a wrinkle on her skirt.
5.
"His grace won’t return from his hunting trip."
Cersei looks up, frowning, about to mouth words.
"Do not ask." Joanna anticipates her. "Never ask me about this."
It was the last bruise, she thinks. The last stain on her daughter’s skin, the last time she heard the brutish oaf insult his queen. It was enough.
"Why?" Cersei asks anyway, never one to be denied explanations for anything.
Joanna kisses her daughter's forehead, her lips grazing a paling bruise where her blonde hair begins and she smells of wood and roses. "Because that's what mothers do."
1.
Jaime doesn’t look at her as she takes him in her arms when he is leaving. The knife twists inside her again, singing a song full of dull, urgent pain. I will miss your laughter more than anything in this world.
"Behave. Remember that you are the heir to Casterly Rock," she says, planting a kiss on his cheek.
"Then why is he being sent to Sunspear, mother?" Cersei’s voice is cold as ice, cold as Tywin’s as Joanna told him the truth.
"Because I say so," Tywin answers in her place, knowing she can’t bear it.
2.
He feels his fury stiffen to ice in his veins when he steps into the Red Keep. The stench of battle is thick here, drowning out everything else.
"Tywin! I didn’t think you’d come."
"A Lannister always pays his debts, Your Grace." Did you think she wouldn’t tell me?
"I'm grateful."
You always were mad. Tywin looks at Clegane beside him, nodding.
Aerys is dead in less than heartbeat, his face smashed to pulp and severed from his body. Unflinching, Tywin steps over the corpse of the man he’s known since boyhood.
"Joanna sends her regards."
3.
Tywin Lannister offers no apologies, no other explanations than those he serves on the fields of battle. War is war.
"She was your friend," he says all the same. It has been a long journey; he is glad she waited for him. "The children-"
"Steel and fire." Joanna turns around, closes the distance between them. "I understand."
"We came late to the cause-"
She shakes her head, a fingertip tracing the line of his jaw. Her gaze is pensive, but her hands are warm as ever, her breath like cleansing fires. "I understand, Tywin."
4.
"Please! I-I didn’t mean-"
"What’s your name, girl?"
She cannot be older than Tyrion, Joanna thinks. This low-born, graceless, cringing creature kneeling in front of her. A whore, Tywin had claimed. She is less certain but it makes little difference either way. You will not make a mockery of my family, foolish child.
"T-tysha, m’Lady."
"Get out, Tysha. Leave my son alone. If you should return, I will let my lord husband deal with you." Her mouth tightens. "He will not be merciful."
Neither will I, she thinks, smoothing out a wrinkle on her skirt.
5.
"His grace won’t return from his hunting trip."
Cersei looks up, frowning, about to mouth words.
"Do not ask." Joanna anticipates her. "Never ask me about this."
It was the last bruise, she thinks. The last stain on her daughter’s skin, the last time she heard the brutish oaf insult his queen. It was enough.
"Why?" Cersei asks anyway, never one to be denied explanations for anything.
Joanna kisses her daughter's forehead, her lips grazing a paling bruise where her blonde hair begins and she smells of wood and roses. "Because that's what mothers do."