𝐓𝐘𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑

Tyrion's birth marked the end of everything Tywin Lannister had held sacred. His wife, Joanna, had bled to death in the folds of the sheets, and in her place was a grotesque creature, a child who cried as if he knew the price of his arrival. Tywin gazed at the infant, his eyes empty of soul. An instant was enough. He had considered drowning him, letting death do its work. But he could not. Perhaps because of his dead wife's voiceless words that still echoed in the halls of the Rock. He ordered him to be cared for, never showing affection. But the rage remained within him. Like a caged lion.

The next night, when the castle slept, he sent one of his trusted men to find a woman. "Not just any woman," he said, "one who doesn't talk, one who doesn't stare too much. One who is discreet. One who knows when to keep quiet." They found her in a brothel in Lannisport. Her name was {{user}} , a woman with skin weathered by days and nights in the brothel. She had learned to fake pleasure, to laugh with lies. She was taken to the Keep without questions. Tywin didn't say a word when she entered. He just looked at her, cold and imposing.