Chambers of Tywin & Visenya, Tower of the Hand, Red Keep - King's Landing, CrownLands — 1 week since Tyrion's escape
It has been almost a week since the incident with Tyrion and his disappearance with Varys. Still, they have been no news Of them ever since. They had not been found and no one seemed to have seen them.
Visenya was recovering rather quickly, aided by Qyburn's extensive knowledge in treating wounds and even that special salve Oberyn had given her; much to Tywin's dismay.
After a week of the incident, the Maester or better say, Grand Maester Qyburn had come to check on her once again. She sat on her bed, the privacy of closed doors allowed only the two of them to be present while a guard kept standing outside, in case anything would happen.
Visenya had been wearing breeches that day and a tunic, since lifting a full dress and exposing more than necessary was not something she was in the mood for. She remained silent as he inspected the injury, now that the bandage was gone.
"I must admit, my Lady that you heal faster than I expected," he pointed out and then started to wrap her torso and cover her wound again. "I can see you are on a good way for a full recovery. I do not even think any future troubles will arise if you take it easy for a while."
"You can rest assured, I will," she said, pleased to hear that things were going well.
She was not that surprised with her recovery, since she had observed before that she was rather quick to heal; although she never healed that fast.
As Qyburn finished wrapping the bandages, he pointed out something else.
"Your temperature seems unusually high, my lady," he said as she dropped her tunic. "Have you perhaps developed some fever?"
He went to touch her but she grabbed his wrist, stopping him from touching any more than it was unnecessary.
"I do not. My temperature is normally like that and my healing is rather fast as well," she informed him and let go of his wrist.
Qyburn rubbed his wrist and inspected, having not failed to sense how much warmer her palm was; as if there was some fire source hidden within it. His wrist had faint red marks as if a flame had been brought close and irritated the skin but no clear finger marks, since she did not use a lot of strength.
"Curious, very curious my lady," he said, clearly interested in the subject. "I must admit, I never had the chance to heal, let alone observe a Targaryen before. Though I have read a few things about your family."
She arched an eyebrow, now it was her turn to be curious.
"What things?" she asked but before the Grand Maester could speak, there was a knock on the door.
Jaime opened it and took a step inside, eyeing the two of them and mostly Qyburn with some suspicion. As if understanding the message, the odd man grabbed his things and left the room; leaving only her and her stepson to remain inside.
"Are you alright, good-mother?" Jaime asked, walking her way.
"I am recovering and unshaken. Although Qyburn can be a little bit..."
"Creepy?" he finished for her, a smile of amusement playing on her lips.
"Among other things," she said and watched him as he stopped next to her but did not dare to sit down.
"Good-mother... I..." he took a deep breath. "I am sorry for not coming to you any sooner and for what happened with Tyrion," he said, taking her oddly warm hand in his.
It had been a full week since the incident and Jaime had not found the courage to see her, let alone truly face her. Whenever he did from afar, all he could think of was the wound she hid beneath her dresses and how it was caused by his own actions. Trystan had been bothering him non-stop for 7 days straight, trying to make him go see her. His ways of persuasion eventually worked, although he did pass through a lot of them to finally succeed.
As per usual, she did not seem to hold any grudges; even if he did avoid her for 7 full days. Yet again, Cersei had yet to truly see her and she did not seem to have bothered either. Only Trystan had been consistent with the visits, spending as much time as he could with her either as her escort or her companion. More than once Visenya had to force him to leave and do something personal, than spend his hours looking after her.
Instead of being angry or disappointed or having any negative reaction towards his actions, she let her gaze soften and she slowly stood up; careful not to put too much pressure on her wound. It would be idiotic to re-open it after it had been going so well. Plus, Tywin would not let her leave the bed if she managed to harm herself that way.
"Jaime," she said, earning his full attention on her, her voice sweet as honey. "I assure you, I hold no grudge nor do I blame you for anything."
She placed her warm hand on his cheek.
"It is not your fault," she continued, those words hitting him right into the heart.
His father had said the exact opposite, his father had accused him that it was his actions that started it all and it was his fault. Every day Jaime felt guilty and hated himself, to the point that he could not even spend time with Cersei because his mind was elsewhere.
Yet, hearing her say those words... offered him with so much internal relief at the moment. To hear that it was not his fault, at least not entirely, was something he truly wanted to believe but he knew he couldn't.
"It is though," he argued.
"It is not. I was also part of the lie about Tysha and I knew one day, when the truth would eventually come out; I would have to face the consequences of my actions."
He could not help but nod his head, understanding what she was saying and that somehow made him feel better.
"How are you though? With your wound?" he asked, clear worry visible in his emerald green eyes.
"Healing and rather fast actually," she said and pulled her hand away from his cheek. She then guided his hand towards her injury and let him place it above the tunic.
He could not truly see the difference but he could feel from the thin single layer of bandage that the entrance wound was already shrinking day by day. It was not any gaping and aching hole caused by an arrowhead and that reassured him.
"Trust me, it is not that easy to take me down," she joked, managing to make him crack a smile; a personal accomplishment at the moment for her.
His hand was rather big and it covered most of her stomach. As he was about to pull his hand away, he realized that something was odd. He had placed his hand on the stomach of women before, noticeably Cersei and there was a clear difference.
Some sort of anomaly, something he could not truly explain but he could sense that it was not normal. Her stomach and her waist... then it hit him, faster than lightning would hit the ground during a storm.
He slowly withdrew his hand, his amusement gone. For the first time in his life, he got a far clearer idea of what kind of damage she had suffered at the hands of Robert, all those years ago when she fought in the Battle of the Trident.
"It is alarming for everyone that realizes it at first but it is not noticeable on the outside," she explained softly as if she had been saying those words to herself all those years ago.
"I am sorry... I..."
"Didn't know," she finished for him. "No one does but your father and surprisingly Qyburn so do not worry," she confessed, making him look at her confused. "He figured something was odd when he was bandaging me the first night."
He nodded his head but it was clear he was not really that happy with the news. Yet, he said nothing else on the topic; since he knew it was always a tough one for her to discuss and she had already been through enough.
The Throne Room, Red Keep - King's Landing, CrownLands - 1 day later
Young King Tommen was sitting on the Iron Throne, the golden crown placed upon his head and almost matching the shade of his hair. He still looked too young and small for the huge throne made of melted swords but he would grow to fit just right.
No one else was in the room except for him and his two grandparents, who seemed to have become his advisors ever since the trial. The boy was always willing to listen to them and accepted all lessons from Tywin, while he was always happy to have Visenya around; since his mother did not seem to be present that much anymore.
The young boy had just been given Joffrey's sword after it had been removed from his now-buried body. It remained in its sheath and it was still a little heavy for the young King but he would train his arms to be able to use it.
"You should pick a name for it, now that it is yours, Your Grace," Tywin told him as each adult stood by each side of the throne but also a little forward, able to see the boy clearly.
Tommen frowned.
"Is it even possible to change its name? Now that it had already been given one?" he asked, looking at them for answers.
Visenya smiled softly.
"It is. There is a legend among soldiers, Your Grace, that a sword can only be permanently named after it has been coated with blood or at least had drawn its first blood," she explained.
While the idea of actually injuring and harming someone was not one Tommen was happy to imagine; he accepted it. He focused on her, finding it slightly easier to look at her than the ever-judging and silently cold look of his grandfather.
"You have a Valyrian Sword too, haven't you grandmother?" he asked.
She nodded.
"My family's sword, yes."
"What is its name?"
"Dragon Heart, Your Grace."
Tommen was silent for a moment, looking at the sword lying upon his lap while he thought of fitting names. None interrupted him and merely stood there; waiting to hear what kind of name he was thinking to give to his new sword.
"I am going to call it, Wisdom," he finally said, looking at both of them with a small smile filled with pride. "So, I will always remember what a good king needs to have above everything else."
His answer had surprised and slightly shocked the couple, who exchanged a quick look between them. It was something they did not expect and yet when they both looked at the boy, they could see that they were pleased with his answer.
A proof that the boy was learning and listening to them. A sign that he would one day make a great King if he continued down that path.
Throne Room, Red Keep — King's Landing, CrownLands - Sometime Later
After some more small talk with Tommen, mostly about his upcoming wedding and his responsibilities; the boy had been dismissed. He was more than happy to go visit Margaery and show her the sword and the new name it was given, far better and less depressing than the one Joffrey had chosen for it.
This left the powerful couple alone in the Throne Room, none choosing to leave yet.
Visenya was walking slowly around the throne, one hand gently caressing the old melted swords that were still sharp; despite the passing years. She could remember how once upon a time, the Throne was far bigger and taller; hundreds of swords formed a corridor with steps that led to it while the Dragon skulls were present for everyone to remember the huge beasts her family once rode.
Now, it was nothing but a piece of what it used to be. Yet, she still remembered all of her family sitting on it from her grandfather to her father and then her brother.
Tywin had stayed where he was and was silent for a moment. He was observing her, finally having some time for her to be where she once belonged after all those years; without anyone watching or judging.
Yet, as he saw her caressing the swords; one question popped into his mind.
"Do you regret it? Giving up the throne to marry me?" he asked with his hands behind his back and his eyes always on her.
His tone gave nothing away of his thoughts, his face the usual he always had; hiding his true thoughts and feelings behind that perfect mask he had crafted.
She smiled softly, slightly amused by his question as she came to a halt at the other side of the Throne.
She rested one hand on it as she turned her body sideways to face him.
"I took an arrow for you just a week ago and I did not regret it," she reminded him. "I told you before, the day we were discussing the idea. I simply earned more by giving up the Throne." She looked at it softly, a small sigh leaving her lips. "It was never meant to be mine either way, the moment I became known as the forgotten daughter."
He did not say something at first, hearing her talking but there was this softer look he gave her. Indeed they had discussed the throne, the very same night she told him the idea and she had said those same words.
If one would look at where her family was now, one would understand just how much she had earned. She was a powerful wife with a loving family, having titles, lands and riches all to her name.
He tried not to scoff when she brought up that stupid nickname.
He never liked it but it was one that had stuck with her until she made her name known. Since a stupid wood witch had predicted that her siblings would give birth to a promised prince, her parents had pushed her to the side.
With Rhaegar born and her brother ruling before he came of age, it was evident that she would never get her hands on the throne unless her siblings and her nephew all died soon after they were crowned and she was the last survivor of her family.
"You should sit on it," he finally said, making her snap out of whatever thoughts she had buried her mind in.
She shook her head, a clear sign that she was disagreeing with the idea.
"You know I cannot."
Yet, he was not ready to give up.
"You can. No one is watching and it was once your birthright. I do believe you deserve it at least once."
Realizing that she could spend hours fighting his stubbornness and still lose, she chose to simply give in. With elegant steps, she walked in front of the throne and used her hands to gather her dress in the back before sitting on it.
Tywin observed her, even taking a few steps back and down the steps to have a bigger image of her. His eyes seemed to observe, taking in every detail of her as she sat like a Queen. The throne suited her, the black swords contrasting against the bloody red dress she wore and the white shade of her hair.
He noticed how powerful she looked with her hands placed at the arms of the throne, her back straight and her chin held high. For a moment, Tywin imagined a golden crown sitting on top of her head, bloody red jewels to match her dress as the golden colour could only be matched by the intense amber of her eyes.
The image stuck to him and he could not help but smile in pride at the idea, imagining a scenario where she ruled instead of her brother or even Robert. Where people called her "Queen" and "Your Grace" like she truly deserved.
"I must admit, it is as uncomfortable as I remember it while you were away for 6 months in Duskendale," she joked, amusing him as he slowly climbed up the stairs towards her.
"It suits you, being a Queen. You would be far more competent than anyone else before you, especially your brother," he said as he came to a stop by her side.
She smirked.
"And you would be King Consort. It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it? King Consort Tywin Lannister," she pointed out, making him give her his signature side smirk.
They talked some more, none seemed to mind that she was sitting on the Iron Throne and he was standing by her side; like a respected and trusted advisor. None seemed to notice that they were spied on by two very curious Lions.
Jaime had eventually met with Trystan, not long after he had left Visenya. He was still a little bit shaken by the revelation of her injury by Robert but managed to hide it upon seeing his half-brother.
They did not have the chance to truly talk about... well, anything. Ever since the incident, both had been busy with keeping an eye on the Red Keep and he was almost always by the side of their mother; helping her where she needed so she would not pressure herself and worsen her wound.
Now that they were somehow freer and had a chance to talk, Jaime sat with him and spilled the beans on what he found out about their parents; the truth behind their marriage and that there were actually feelings between them; feelings that no one truly knew about.
Of course, the Half-Lion was sceptical at the idea.
"Brother, I am sure we would have figured it out if that was the case," he argued. "I mean, I understand Mother but Father is... tough to truly love or show love in the first place."
Jaime did not blame him, for he thought the exact same thing and he had lived with their father the longest. He had seen him happy with his first wife, depressed and angry after her passing, and then just passively okay ever since Visenya came into the picture.
He also thought that there was just this professional relationship between them. Some sort of partnership between two intelligent minds that respected one another and knew that it was wiser to stick together than handle the mess of the world around them; each on their own.
Yet, after witnessing that moment where Visenya confessed her love for him and then he replied with a tender kiss... he could not see them as he used to.
The only thing Trystan seemed to believe, was the fact that Visenya had taken the arrow for Tywin; a subconscious attempt to save him. They both agreed to remain silent on the matter, and let the fake gossip spread; much to their dismay.
Jaime, who realized that just like himself, Trystan needed evidence; had an idea. Silently, the two of them had found their parents in the Throne Room and listened to them as they talked. Above all things, though, they observed them and mostly their Father.
They knew him well enough by now, to know how he acted, spoke and even how he stood based on whom he was addressing or what his mood was. There was this professionalism, they noticed, and this seriousness.
The topic of discussion quickly turned as they brought up how Visenya had voluntarily given up her birthright to be with him. That was a detail they did not know and were not sure how to process, shedding a new light on how their marriage came to be.
Instead, they focused on remaining silent and observing behind a column as their parents continued talking; even as Visenya sat on the Iron Throne. They took notice of how their father was taking his time to observe and drink in the sight of her; one he might not witness again anytime soon.
There was this... different emotion on his face.
The boys were not stupid and they could finally see that there was this connection between their parents, one that went far beyond a respectful mutual partnership. This was far deeper and it was one that not even their own children seemed to know; one that Tywin and Visenya did their best to hide from everyone, including them.