He had once counted on his children, hoping they would inherit not only his ambition but also his ability.
But his children had let him down.
Jai — the one he had placed the most hope in — refused the title of Lord of Casterly Rock. It seed he had never truly grown up, never stopped playing with toy soldiers. He desired only to be Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and lead troops on campaigns.
Cersei was not stupid, but she lacked both grace and caution. She was accustod to solving every problem with money or brute force. Moreover, she had begun to change—and not for the better. Under King Robert, she had still been sowhat sane, but now, as Queen Regent, she was becoming increasingly insufferable in her arbitrariness and political shortsightedness. Lately, Lord Tywin had seriously considered sending her back to Casterly Rock, simply to keep her from interfering.
And then there was another headache: Cersei was sleeping with Jai. Tywin had never been naive; he found out long ago and with absolute precision that all those rumors were true. Yet as long as his children didn't cross a certain line—as long as the matter remained hidden—the situation was tolerable. And Rumors? Rumors were inevitable, after all, and anything could be turned to one's advantage.
Joffrey was not Robert's son, but he bore his na and was, at least formally, a Baratheon. And Tomn was also a Baratheon. That ant if Stannis and his daughter were to die, there would be no Baratheons left—except for his grandsons.
People would always believe in those who held power. The Lannisters had power. Therefore, Tywin could make people believe once more that Tomn was a Baratheon and grant Storm's End to his grandson. The situation opened dazzling prospects: he could unite Casterly Rock, Storm's End, and the Crownlands into a single domain, creating the foundation for a Lannister kingdom that would stretch from the eastern coast to the western—and endure for centuries. He already had a long-term plan in place for this. The key was that his own children and grandchildren did not stand in the way of its execution. Everyone else, he would deal with. And may the Seven not be bloodthirsty—let them grant him just ten more years of life. He asked for nothing more.
Lord Tywin smiled faintly as he recalled the rumors surrounding his grandson. Rumors, even when true, were a dangerous weapon. Follow them too closely, and they could lead to very unpleasant places—with terrible consequences.
Stannis and Renly Baratheon had believed those sa rumors. They had declared that Joffrey was not Robert's legitimate son and therefore had no right to the throne.
And where were they now? Renly was dead. Stannis would soon follow his brother. Nothing would remain of House Baratheon, and the Lannisters would be rid of another rival. That was what happened when a fool believed in gossip.
As for his youngest son—Tyrion—Lord Tywin had recently begun to realize that he was the most intelligent, cunning, and devious of them all. But his grotesque appearance overshadowed every other quality, and it made Tywin curse the gods for giving such gifts to the child who least deserved them. And then there was the matter of his birth—Tyrion had killed his mother, Lady Joanna, while coming into the world. Tywin had loved his wife more than life itself. Since that day, an unhealed wound had remained in his soul. Ti had done nothing to nd it, and the father had never forgiven the son…
And those endless escapades with prostitutes—another humiliation entirely. It often seed as though Tyrion did it all deliberately, just to spite him, paying no mind to how it tarnished the family's honor.
His children—so different, yet so alike—refused to understand one simple thing: everything he did was for them and their descendants. He had laid the foundation for the Lannisters' greatness for generations to co, yet they were either unable or unwilling to see it. Their arrogance, foolishness, vanity, and ridiculous, contrived grievances—all their unwillingness to sacrifice anything for the common good—made his life and plans infinitely more difficult.
Here is the grandson, Joffrey, who had ascended the throne after Robert's untily death, had turned out nothing like the heir Tywin had hoped for.
He knew the boy was far from stupid—Joffrey understood and rembered many things easily—but he refused to learn anything beyond what suited him. He didn't want to understand, to listen, or to do anything of substance. Tywin recognized that his eldest grandson could charm people and might have achieved greatness... Or rather he could, if he beca a very different person, and if his parents were serious about raising him. Instead, Joffrey had grown into a capricious, spoiled brat. His youth, his mother's influence, his status as king, his wealth, and the flattery of sycophants had smothered any chance that he might grow wiser or co to his senses.
So it turned out that of all his relatives and family, only his younger brother, Kevan, sincerely wanted to help and really helped in his complicated plans. That was good, of course, but the support of his own children and grandchildren would have ant much more.
At least in the past year, after the death of Stafford Lannister, his son Daven had proven himself a capable commander. Boisterous, cheerful, loud, and unrestrained—but he had taken command of one of the armies, easing the burden on Tywin's shoulders. The old lord was grateful for that. He also understood the value of using people according to their abilities. Everyone was good in their proper place.
The lord rose, walked to the window, and opened the shutters. The peculiar aroma of King's Landing rushed in—the stench of a vast city mixed with hints of cooking and the tang of the sea.
Lord Tywin did not like King's Landing. He could not stand its sll. Many things here irritated him. Perhaps the only thing he could still find beauty in was the sea.
Yes, the sea. But this was the eastern sea—not like the beloved coast of Casterly Rock, where the waters shimred with the colors of sunset. There, the setting sun painted the sky in unimaginable hues; dolphins danced upon the waves, and a light breeze could calm even the most troubled mind. There, one wanted simply to live and raise grandchildren. And the air slled infinitely better.
He gazed at the rising sun and rubbed the gray stubble on his chin. It was going to be a hot, busy day.
Today was his grandson's wedding.
Everyone would be drinking, eating, and reveling—while only a few would bear the weight of responsibility for this horde of idlers and gluttons.
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