Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 16: The New Cub

…

Joanna Lannister

A moon had passed since the return of my husband, and I found myself in the tranquil gardens atop Casterly Rock, nestled against Tywin's shoulder. He rested his chin on my head, gently caressing my belly where our child kicked and squirmed.

Nine moons had flown by since my pregnancy, and this little one was far more active than Cersei and Jaime had been in my womb. Each movement was a reminder of the life we had created together.

"My husband," I said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yes, love." The serious man I had known in court seemed a world away; in this moment, a softer Tywin answered me.

"What should we name our new cub?" I asked, placing my hand over his as it moved gently across my belly.

"If it's a boy, Tybolt, after our ancestor Tybolt the Thunderbolt. If it's a girl, Jeyne, after my mother." Tywin's eyes sparkled with warmth as he caressed my hands.

The peace of the moment enveloped me, the warmth of his touch bringing a blissful calm. I considered his name choices. While I appreciated the tribute to his mother for a daughter, Tybolt felt too fierce for our son. I wanted him to grow into a kind and gentle man, not a battle-hungry warrior.

"I don't mind the name for a girl," I replied, intertwining my fingers with his. "But for a boy, I wish to name him Tyrion."

Tywin gave my name choice a little thought, and moments later he agreed with me.

"As you wish, my lioness," Tywin whispered in my ear, his breath tickling me and sending a thrill through my heart.

I felt a swell of warmth in my chest at his agreement.

A moment later, I spotted Cersei, Jaime, and Galahad playing in the distance in the courtyard. The gardens, elevated above the courtyard, provided a clear view of them, just a few steps away. Galahad, Kevan's squire, was an odd lad—quiet and timid. Yet around Cersei, he seemed to blossom into a more confident version of himself.

His age was uncertain to Kevan, but he appeared to be close to fourteen. Initially, I had my reservations about him; Cersei often returned from their escapades with dirt-stained dresses and mischievous smiles. But over time, I discovered he was a loyal playmate and guard for my children, and I began to trust him.

Now, he was teaching them how to swing a sword properly, the three of them lost in their laughter.

As I watched them, a sudden warmth turned into something wet beneath my dress.

"Tywin!" I exclaimed, my voice rising in alarm.

Startled, my husband sat upright. "What is it?"

"I think our child is coming," I said, my voice trembling.

He sprang into action, helping me up and guiding me toward the birthing chamber. The pain surged as I stood, sending a wave of discomfort through me. Tywin called for the servants, and I felt myself lifted as they carried me down the hall.

With each jolt, the pain intensified, my mind blurring with the urgency of the moment. I couldn't help but scream as they hurried along, desperation mixing with the thrill of impending motherhood.

"Aggggghhhhh!" I screamed, the sound echoing through the dimly lit birthing chamber. Hours had passed since my water broke, and agony surged through me with each painful contraction. This pain was worse than my last birth.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I gripped the bed, feeling as if the very fibers of my being were being tested. Why was this so painful? I asked myself, a mix of confusion and desperation swirling in my mind. Unlike my previous labor with twins, Cersei and Jaime, which had its own trials, this felt like a relentless storm of suffering.

For a moment, the pain overwhelmed me, and I slipped into unconsciousness, only to be jolted back to awareness by the maester's worried voice. "My lady, keep pushing! It will be dangerous for you and the child if you don't!"

Understanding the gravity of his words, I steeled myself, preparing to face the torment that lay ahead. With every ounce of willpower, I screamed and pushed.

"Aggggggghhhhhhhh!!!" My voice rang out, raw and primal.

After this birth, I thought to myself, I don't think I'll ever go through this again. Tears continued to flow down my cheeks, a mixture of pain and resolve. I felt a deep twisting in my hips, an unmistakable sign that my baby was on the verge of arrival.

"He's almost here, my lady! Push more!" the maester urged softly, his tone laced with encouragement.

Relief washed over me at his words, igniting a flicker of hope. I pushed with everything I had, the world around me fading into a haze.

"Wahhh! Waaahhh! Wahhhh!" The sound of my child's cries filled the room moments later. A smile broke through my pain as joy surged within me, a powerful instinct urging me to see my babe.

Yet, something felt off. Maester Creylen congratulated me with a gravity I hadn't expected, a tone that echoed with unspoken fears. Let me see my babe, I thought, a frantic urgency rising in me.

The maester cut the umbilical cord and tied it deftly, then moved to my side, cradling my newborn. As he presented him to me, my heart raced.

I looked down at my babe, and a mix of emotions washed over me. He was a boy, but his limbs were short, and his head seemed larger than that of a normal babe. Confusion and concern flickered through my mind, but I pushed them aside.

Regardless of appearances, he was my son. I reached out, taking him from the maester's grasp, pulling my dress down to provide him with nourishment. I cradled him close, feeding him with my milk, feeling the warmth of our bond begin to blossom. In that moment, all I could see was the beauty of new life in my arms, a precious gift I would cherish fiercely, no matter the challenges ahead.

…

Tywin Lannister 

I stood outside the door of my wife's birthing chamber, my brow slick with sweat. The sounds of her screams echoed through the thick wood, each cry lancing through me with a pang of helplessness. This labor was far worse than the last, a grueling battle I could only witness from the other side.

It felt like an eternity had passed. My heart raced with a prayer for both Joanna and our babe, but my thoughts gravitated toward my wife's safety. I already had an heir; I couldn't bear to think of losing her. What would I do without Joanna?

Beside me stood my sister Genna, offering her support in this anxious moment. Jaime and Cersei were with us, their young faces clouded with worry for their mother.

"It'll be alright," Genna murmured, pulling me into a comforting hug.

I nodded, clinging to her reassurance. "She'll be okay," I told myself, though doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve.

"Father, is Mother going to be alright?" Jaime asked, his wide eyes brimming with tears. The fear in his gaze mirrored my own.

I crouched down to meet his gaze, hoping to infuse him with some semblance of courage. "Your mother is a lioness; she'll get through this," I said softly, watching as he nodded and wiped his tears away.

I glanced over at Cersei, who clung to Galahad, her small frame shaking with quiet sobs. The lad, a recent addition to our household, seemed to have formed an unshakeable bond with my children, comforting Cersei with gentle pats on her head. I felt a strange mix of emotions as I considered his identity—a potential bastard brother of mine and my children bastar uncle—yet the concern for my children overshadowed any apprehension.

The atmosphere shifted as I heard the unmistakable sound of a newborn's cries echoing through the chamber. My heart raced in anticipation. My babe was here.

Moments later, the door to the birthing chamber swung open, and Maester Creylan stepped out. His expression was calm, his voice steady. "The mother and babe are fine. The babe is a boy."

Relief washed over me in waves. My wife had made it through, and so had our son. My heart swelled with excitement, and for a moment, the weight of my earlier fears lifted. I couldn't wait to meet them both—to see Joanna and hold our newborn son in my arms.

"Genna, watch the children and ensure they don't enter unless I say so," I instructed, my voice more clipped than I intended. The urgency in my tone was unmistakable; I needed to see my wife and child alone first.

Without waiting for a response, I turned and made my way into the room, my heart pounding with anticipation.

As I stepped into the room, I felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The midwives bustled around my wife, tending to the sheets and ensuring she was comfortable. My gaze fell upon Joanna, resting peacefully as she cradled our newborn.

But as I drew closer, a frown creased my brow. The babe before me was not as I had imagined. His limbs were short, his head disproportionately large. A fleeting wave of disgust surged through me. My son is a dwarf, I thought, unable to suppress the grimace that crossed my face.

My eyes drifted to Joanna. She had seen my expression. Tears welled in her eyes, her lips trembling as she held our son to her chest.

Joanna must have sensed my reaction because tears began to brim in her eyes. "Why do you look at him like that?" she asked, hurt and confusion mingling in her voice.

I stood silent for a moment, my mind racing. I had been prepared for another strong heir—another Jaime, another Cersei. Instead, here was a boy who would be seen as weak, scorned by the world.

"He may not be… normal…" I began, but seeing the anguish deepen in Joanna's eyes, I faltered.

"But he's our babe…" she whispered again, her voice fragile, as though it would shatter if I didn't say the right words.

I had to set aside the shock, the disappointment that gnawed at me. In that moment, I realized that whatever he was, Tyrion was still ours. A Lannister, born of my blood and Joanna's love.

"Yes, my love," I said softly, my voice now firm and unwavering. "He's our Tyrion Lannister." Leaning down, I kissed Joanna gently on her forehead, hoping to soothe her fears.

Her face softened, her tears slowing as a fragile smile bloomed. It was a beautiful sight, one that warmed the cold edges of my heart. I smiled back, and in that moment, all the doubts melted away.

Tyrion, despite his differences, was our son. A new life to protect, to nurture. I made a silent vow then, to guard him fiercely—he would be a Lannister, and no one would take that from him.