Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 14: The feast of lions

…

Third POV:

Tywin and his men finally reached the towering gates of Casterly Rock, the massive stronghold looming high above them. The guards, upon seeing their lord paramount, immediately opened the gates without delay. The clanking of metal echoed as the bridge from the mainland lowered, allowing Tywin and his retinue to cross.

As they rode across the bridge, Tywin noticed familiar faces waiting for him. His brother Kevan stood patiently alongside their sister Genna. Beyond them, he could see his children—Jaime and Cersei—engaged in what looked like a playful squabble, picking at each other until Genna intervened, scolding them for their behavior.

Once they crossed, Tywin and his men dismounted. The moment his boots touched the stone, his children straightened up, their playfulness replaced with the seriousness befitting their father's presence.

Kevan approached first, a smile on his face. "Brother, welcome home," he greeted, giving Tywin a respectful nod.

Tywin nodded back but kept his usual stoic demeanor, his face unreadable as he moved towards Genna and his children. Kevan, meanwhile, turned to greet their younger brothers, Gerion and Tygett, offering them a more relaxed embrace, his smile widening as he hugged them.

"Brother, how was your time in the capital? You seem skinnier than before," Genna teased, giving Tywin a large hug despite his stiff posture.

Tywin stood firm, his expression unchanged, though he did pat Genna's back in a rare display of affection. She released him after a moment, moving on to greet her other brothers.

Now before his children, Tywin took a moment to observe them. Jaime stood first, his eyes wide and nervous, his voice shaky as he stammered, "F-f-father, w-w-welcome back."

Tywin's gaze softened, if only slightly. The boy had improved since their last encounter in King's Landing, where Jaime had been too overwhelmed with awe and fear to even speak. Though still far from perfect, there was progress.

Cersei, on the other hand, delivered her greeting flawlessly, her voice steady and confident. "Welcome back, Father. How was your journey?"

Tywin, though surprised by her poise, gave her a small nod of approval. "The journey was uneventful," he said, his tone measured. "But now, I'm back."

He crouched down, placing a hand on both Jaime and Cersei's shoulders, a rare sign of affection that he bestowed only in private moments like these. Both children straightened under his touch, beaming slightly under their father's approval.

The Lannister family and their retinue began the long ascent up the many steps of Casterly Rock, following Tywin's lead. Each step echoed with the sound of boots on stone, their ascent slow and steady as the towering stronghold loomed above. As they neared the top, Tywin's eyes fixed on the large doors that led to the grand hall where Joanna would be waiting. He straightened his posture even further, his hand smoothing over his garments, making sure everything was in place.

Behind him, he could hear Genna and his brothers teasing him under their breath, chuckling about how he always became soft-hearted and obedient when it came to his wife. Tywin paid them no mind; after all, there was truth to their words.

The guards at the doors moved aside and began to open them, the heavy wood groaning as it swung wide. Tywin stepped into the hall, his eyes immediately drawn to the high table where Joanna sat, radiant as ever. His lioness.

He separated from his family and retinue, walking briskly towards her. The others took their respective seats—his brothers and sister sitting near the high table as well, while Cersei dragged a reluctant Jaime along to sit beside their mother.

"My lion," Joanna greeted from her seat, her voice warm and affectionate.

"My lioness," Tywin responded, his eyes filled with a rare softness reserved only for her.

Joanna smiled mischievously, her hand resting on her swollen belly. "I would curtsey to you, husband, as proper etiquette demands, but as you can see, you've put a child in me, and I can barely move."

Tywin's expression softened further, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "There's no need," he said as he took his seat beside her, his hand gently resting on her belly. "You're my wife, my lioness, my equal."

For a moment, Tywin allowed himself to admire her, her beauty magnified by the life growing within her. The desire to hold her, to claim her as his own once more, was strong, but he knew that would have to wait.

"Oh, did our children behave well?" Joanna asked, glancing at Jaime and Cersei as they settled into their seats across from Tywin.

"Cersei is perfect," Tywin replied in a measured tone. "But Jaime… he still needs more spine."

Joanna raised an eyebrow, feigning a sad expression. "Are you saying my raising of Jaime has been inadequate?"

Tywin knew her jest too well, the playful glint in her eyes giving her away. "No," he said, leaning in with a rare, genuine smile. "Your raising has been perfect."

He pressed a kiss to her left cheek, a gesture that lit up Joanna's eyes with warmth and joy. She felt the love emanate from him, and for a moment, all the burdens of their station faded away in that shared affection.

Unbeknownst to them, Cersei was watching intently from across the table, her sharp eyes absorbing every moment, her young mind already spinning with ideas.

The feast began in earnest, a grand affair worthy of the Lord of Casterly Rock and his retinue. Long tables groaned under the weight of lavish dishes, from roasted boar and venison to freshly baked breads and steaming platters of vegetables seasoned to perfection. The air was thick with the aroma of rich meats, herbs, and spices, mingling with the sound of laughter and clinking goblets.

Servants moved swiftly and silently through the hall, their arms laden with trays of food and flagons of wine, ensuring that no cup was left empty, no plate unfilled. The tired Lannister knights, having returned from their long journey, eagerly indulged in the feast, their spirits lifting with every bite and sip.

At the high table, Tywin sat tall, his demeanor still regal, though his gaze would occasionally drift toward Joanna, who seemed to glow in the flickering candlelight. He listened to his siblings' banter, the easy camaraderie of his brothers, and the laughter that filled the hall, though his thoughts often returned to the woman beside him.

The great hall of Casterly Rock was alive with mirth and conversation, a moment of peace and enjoyment that was rare in their often tumultuous lives. For now, the weight of responsibilities, the burdens of rule, and the intrigues of court seemed distant, replaced by a sense of warmth and unity among the Lannisters.

…

Richard POV

I sat at the table reserved for the squires, my plate barely touched, the conversations around me fading into a dull hum. The roasted chicken was dry, but I chewed mechanically, my eyes focused elsewhere. 

It wasn't the food I was here for, nor the mindless chatter of the other squires. No, I had something else in mind, something that required precision and patience.

The servants bustled in and out of the kitchen, trays of food in hand, sweat glistening on their brows as they hurried to serve the Lannister family and their guests. I watched them carefully, waiting for the right moment.

Without drawing attention to myself, I pushed my chair back and stood, blending into the background as I made my way toward the kitchen. No one noticed me, as I knew they wouldn't. 

I had played my part well, spinning my tale of being the pitiful son of a whore, taken in by Kevan Lannister as an act of charity. It worked. People barely gave me a second glance, and that was exactly how I wanted it.

The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity—chefs barking orders, servants rushing to and fro, the scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread filling the air. I moved through the chaos, invisible, unnoticed.

In the corner, I saw it—the pile of wood near the hearth. Perfect. Without hesitation, I reached into the burning embers and grabbed a small piece of glowing charcoal, feeling the searing heat on my right hand. I didn't wince, didn't flinch. The pain was fleeting, barely a whisper as my skin began to heal almost instantly, thanks to the powers I'd gained. Casually, I tossed the charcoal into the pile of wood, my movements deliberate, yet so natural that no one took notice.

A flicker of flames caught, growing slowly but steadily, spreading with the promise of chaos. I didn't linger. I turned away, my face indifferent, my hand fully healed as if the fire had never touched it. A few seconds later, I heard the shouts and the frantic commotion as the fire took hold, the kitchen thrown into disorder.

But I was already gone, back in the shadows, unseen and unnoticed, just another face in the crowd.

A smile tugged at my lips.

I moved toward the tray prepared for Joanna Lannister, the Lady of Casterly Rock. It gleamed in the dim light, a cup of lemon juice, perfectly cooked fish, and a platter of fruits arranged delicately. I reached into my pouch, fingers closing around the small vial I had hidden there. A quick flick of my wrist, and the powder dissolved into the lemon juice, invisible, undetectable.

I slipped away as easily as I had come, the commotion over the fire distracting everyone as they rushed to put it out. By the time the kitchen was calm again, the food was already being sent out to the lords and ladies. No one would ever suspect a thing.

I smiled to myself as I made my way back to my seat, sliding into the familiar anonymity among the squires. My mission was complete, the vial emptied into Joanna Lannister's drink without anyone noticing. Tywin Lannister, for all his power and influence, owed me now—though he would never know it.

That vial of substance wasn't poison, nor was it anything sinister. It was medicine, a concoction crafted by a maegi I had visited a moon ago. She was a witch, yes, but her knowledge was ancient, passed down through bloodlines and dark rituals. I had sought her out, desperate for a way to save a pregnant woman during childbirth. I didn't care for Joanna Lannister's fate personally, but I cared deeply for Cersei.

If her mother survived the birthing process, if Joanna lived to see her child born and raised, then Cersei would be shaped by a stronger presence. The better version of the woman she could become would be molded under her mother's watchful eye, rather than left to Tywin's cold, ruthless world. I had to protect that future—my future with her, or at least the one I was crafting.

I glanced toward the high table, watching as the servants presented the tray with Joanna's meal. It was just a matter of time now. The maegi had assured me that the medicine would take effect and strengthen her during labor, giving her a far better chance of survival. If she lived, Tywin might never know who to thank, but I would.

I leaned back, satisfaction filling me. I had planted the seed of transformation within Cersei's world, and in doing so, perhaps even in mine. All I had to do now was wait.