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Everybody had left, finally. Tyrion was tired, the sun were already dawn and the night had kept enter.
The day had been exhausting, for hours Sansa had been in labour and he had been condemned to stand aside, doing nothing. He had felt so useless, powerless. He had feared she would die any minute. He had held her hand, trying to calm her, but she only had dug her fingernails so deep in his skin that she had drawn blood.
He absently rubbed his hand over the spot while walking over to the bed. They were finally alone, he was really glad about that. All the good wishes and petting of his son had been nearly as bad as the birth itself. Everybody wanted to have a look, a touch. Constant chatter and ohs and ahs had been around him for hours. He couldn't blame them for it.
He climbed on the bed, carefully not to cause too much noises or disturbance. Sansa lay on her side, visibly exhausted with her eyes closed. She was illuminated by the full moon shining through the window. She was alive, healthy.
He still couldn't get her screams out of his head, how she had panted, had sweated. The midwives and Lady Stark had been all around her, telling her how to breath, to press. Tyrion had found this all very distracting and he was sure Sansa hadn't thought differ.
He laid himself beside her, facing her. She looked peaceful, a happy smile on her face. He then turned his gaze to the space between them, to his son. Gerion lay sleeping in the middle of the bed tightly wrapped in a blanked, sleeping as peacefully as his mother.
His son was perfect, more than perfect in his eyes. He was healthy, no sign of deformation. It had been what he feared most, secondly after Sansa's possible death. He himself had killed his mother, borne a dwarf; some even said he had had a tail during his first days.
Gerion had no tail, only perfection. He had pink skin and red golden hair. He also had blue eyes, Sansa's, his mother's, eyes. Tyrion had checked it when he had thought nobody would look, opening his eyes carefully to see the colour. Unlucky for him Lady Stark had seen him, scowling at him like she had tried to kill him with her mind, before snatching the baby out of his hands. He had only looked questioning at her, he had been carefully and Gerion certainly hadn't objected. He still wasn't sure what he had done wrong. But eventually he hadn't cared, because Catelyn Stark had placed the baby in Sansa's arms, and her smile had been more than he ever could have hoped for.
Everybody had wanted to hold him, until Catelyn Stark had banned them all at dusk. Only Cersei hadn't been present, actually he was thankful for that. But on the other hand he had liked to see her sour expression seeing a normal child not the by her predicted dwarf.
Tyrion slowly removed a flick of hair out of Sansa's face when she opened her eyes. He immediately cursed himself for waking her, but she just looked at him and smiled weakly.
"How are you feeling?" He asked with lowered voice, so he would at least not wake the baby.
"Fine. Tired." She sounded weak, sleepy. Sansa reached her hand out and stroked Gerion's head, carefully tracing his cheeks. It made Tyrion smile, warmth spreading his chest. "He is beautiful." Sansa exhaled a whisper, looking up to him.
She really looked at the end of her powers. She was pale, puffy eyes and deep black circles under her eyes.
"Yes he is." He agreed, trying not to look worried. He changed to a more comfortable position carefully, where he also had a better ankle to look at the two. "He is meant for greatness. I can feel it." He knew it deep in his guts. Gerion, his son, was supposed to be the greatest of his house. And why not?
"Not a day old and you already choose a faith for him." Sansa's laugh about it was small but her tone revealed him she thought the same.
They stayed like that for some time, together admiring the little life they created together. Tyrion's thoughts wandered around everything that had happened the last years, war, death, him finding what he thought never to get. Two years earlier he would have never imagined being so happy. His eyes searched the person responsible for all this, his wife. He needed to ask a question.
"Are you happy?" He asked her seriously. "I mean really happy?"
She looked at him like he had asked if the sky would be blue, or if he had made a joke she didn't understand. But when he neither laughed nor corrected himself, only looking expecting at her, she took a deep breath.
A smile formed on her lips, so sweet, so stunning beautiful he craved for it like a thirsty man for water.
"Of course I am." Her voice was true and her eyes confirmed the truth anyway. Tyrion felt suddenly even lighter than before. He knew she spoke the truth.
He had never been happier in his life than in this moment.
"Did you ever imagine it would be like this? I mean when we got married." He asked her dreamy, finding his gaze back on his son.
"No." A bit of sadness crept in her voice. Tyrion schooled himself, second time this evening he ruined the moment. "I hoped for mercy. Never had I hoped for this. For love, for bliss."
Tyrion caught her cheek, leaning over their son he brushed his lips slightly against hers. When he backed up he saw how really exhausted she looked like, more than he thought.
"We should sleep."
"Yes, we three have another day tomorrow."
Sansa was happy, Tyrion was happy; Gerion looked like he was happy too. And Tyrion hoped for more.
Of wolf and lion
Gerion Lannister sedately rode out of the Lion's Mouth, leaving Casterly Rock, his home. He was on his way to King's Landing to take the place he felt like he was born for: Hand of the King.
He looked around, surrounded by his escort which would follow him. His friends were there, his companions, his brothers in arms, his family.
He had thought about this moment for a long time and argued with himself how to proceed, even or especially with the sorrow in his heart. He had come to the conclusion that he should record everything he would do, keeping a diary, maybe it would distract him.
It would be a long ride so he figured he could start right now. Smirking about himself he grabbed the wooden blotter he used while riding from his saddle bag, gestured his squire to fetch parchment and pulled a quill out of his clothes.
His clothes were red, with grey insertion, together with golden lions and silver wolves. He had his sword, 'Golden Wolf', girt. A fine blade, a present from his father to his sixteenth Nameday. The sheath was wrapped in grey and red silk, with the same gold lion and silver wolf sticker, silver on red and gold on grey. The hilt itself had at one side a wolf and at the other a lion.
"Always remember who you are" His father had always told him all his life, he never forgot.
He was a Lannister, the heir to Casterly Rock, but he was also a Stark, he never forgot that.
Gerion thought about how he could start, remembering his father's words he decided to start with his family, from the beginning. By this thought he looked back at the grim looking rider at his side, smirked and started to write.
His parents were Tyrion and Sansa Lannister, obviously.
He briefly looked back at the Rock; they had just seen him off. Now they most likely were on the way to the glass garden, maybe already playing a game of Cyvasse together. It sometimes seemed they would only do so these days.
His father had served, first as Regent then as Hand for Gerion's cousin Tommen, King Tommen the docile, for more than twenty years, together with mother. The realm had prospered under their reign. They had been the grey eminences of the Red Keep, everything that had happened with their knowledge and permission.
Tommen was capable, but not a strong ruler, he needed other to be strong for him. Queen Margaery might was, but she alone wasn't enough, because she also had to be the good Queen. His father and mother had always been strong for them, some even called them 'King and Queen behind the curtains'.
He had seen how they ruled, since the age of six he had been prepared for his coming task. He had attended the meetings of the small council, listening, watching, never more. He had learned much, Maesters and teachers had been brought his home to teach.
After the said twenty years his father had resigned, declaring a younger generation should take the rudder and the Westerlands also would need his presence. It had been a lousy excuse for Gerion; he knew exactly why his father had left.
He had always talked about leaving the capital, spending the days with his wife, travelling through the seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities. This was the reason they left. Gerion also knew they were already planning to travel to Winterfell and from there down to Dorne. Gerion's mother seemed to enjoy this too. She hadn't pushed his father, but had placed little hints.
She had clearly enjoyed her time in the capital; normally it would have been more common for a Lady to stay at home rather than following her husband to rule. But not she, Gerion found that great. But his family had lived at the Rock too. Half a year in King's Landing, half a year at Casterly Rock. It had worked, somehow.
"Great thoughts you are writing down?" Caspre suddenly appeared at his side, riding his black horse, smirking at him. As usual his friend was dressed in black, with silver sticker and buttons.
"I want to record my time as Hand, for later." He explained the heir to Silver Vale. Lord Bronn's son was his friend since both of them had been toddlers, even if Gerion was roughly a year older than him. He grew up with him, learned how to fight with him, he was his confident he had fought with him.
"Oh, of course such a great man should always do so. You started with yourself yet?" Caspre made a mocking gesture to him. He was way too much like his father, although he had the education of a Lord, he deserved and the presence as such. But he also was disrespectful, cunning and ambitious.
"I am about to." Smirking and bowing way too much down, making a farce out of it Caspre left him, riding away and Gerion could continue.
He was his parents' first child, together they were five. Himself, Joanna, Eddard, Catelyn and Brandon. His family, they were close to each other, mother and father had made sure of that, raising them to be a real family. And they were such.
He was twenty-one, his looks tended after his father, without short height though. None of his siblings were dwarves. They were all tall, elegant. He and his brothers were also strong, his sisters beautiful. He had red golden hair, the only trait all of the Lannister-children had in common, paired blue eyes. But the folk said with a hint of Stark-steel.
Gerion wasn't surprised about that, his uncle Kevan had once described him and his siblings as Lannister forged with Stark-steel.
He thought of himself as a good sword fighter, even if this wasn't so important than his intellect. He had been called witty, grinning all too often. Sometimes even unpleasant. Many said he had his father's sharp tongue and his mother's wisdom. He doubted the wisdom part. Nobody was wiser than his mother; her advice had always been taken thankfully by him. But at least he was funny, so much to the sharp tongue. He saw himself as eloquent and charming.
He had also proved himself on a battlefield, leading a host during a little conflict with a minor Lord. He had smashed him; at the end he had even left the back of the line to lead the attack at a flank himself. He had felt the need for it. His mother and northern teachers, like his grandmother, called this trait wolf's blood. Yes, he had to admit, he sometimes had a certain temper, but he could control it, if he wanted to.
He was married too, but to his grief his wife, Fiona Payne would have to stay behind in the Westerlands. She was the daughter of his mother's best friend Jeyne and his father's former squire and now Lord Podrick Payne. He grew up with her, he loved her and she was pregnant with their first child. Gerion cursed himself because he had to leave, he already delayed his departure as long as he could but now he had to. Fiona hadn't come to see him off. She was angry because he leaves it made his heart felt like it would be in a clamp.
But he would bring her to the capital as soon as possible, let alone to avoid the predictable and most likely very unpleasant accusations and reactions of her best friend, of his sister.
His sister Joanna, Joany, was nineteen years old. Her look tended much more to their mother, but then there were her eyes, one green the other blue. She was the only one of his siblings who inherited their father's mismatched eyes. In contrast to his father it made her only more beautiful. But considering she was already called the most beautiful woman in Westeros it didn't add much. She also had their red golden hair, always wearing it open, maybe because Gerion always teased her by pulling her ponytails when they were younger.
It never had been a good idea, her share of wolf's blood was much greater than his, it was paired with incredible intelligence and a very cunning mind. She had always repaid him triple, and had still managed to appear like the perfect Lady. Only a grin, their father's grin, the since his father's time as hand called Lannistergrin, giving away her involvement.
"Is something wrong Gery?" She had asked in an innocent tone when she had placed a bucket with paint over his door, leaving him in an awful green. He had never been able to blame her.
Yes she could be vicious in her wrath, but never headless always calculating carefully not to let hints back. And of course their parents never punished her, only him.
She was married to the heir of Highgarden, Luthor Tyrell, son of Lord Willas. Gerion remembered very clearly her wedding day. Their mother had made the match and Ned and he had taken her husband to be aside and had told him.
"Hurt her, on any way and you will need the help of all gods in this world." As usual Ned had been more threatening than he had been. He always scared the crap out of people.
But it looked like she really liked her husband. If not Gerion had no doubt Luthor wouldn't have survived the birth of their son, their second child, last year. Joanna was able to defend herself, if necessary, without being not a perfect Lady. He was happy for his sister; he loved her no matter what.
By the way, no matter what would have been best or right, he would have laid waste to the entire Reach if his sister would be mistreated by him. Nobody would have been able to stop him. And once again, they would have feared Ned more.
His brother, Eddard, or how everybody called him Ned, was eighteen and so much different to him.
The people said he would be a chimera of his grandfathers. He looked very much like Ned Stark, they said, except for the red golden hair. He also had his grey eyes, together with golden sprinkles in them. But the demeanour and the presence he radiated were Tywin Lannister's.
His brother never smiled or laugh, had never had. Even as a baby he was always quiet, noble. And now, he most of the time looked grim. His demeanour was so much like Lord Tywin's had been that Gerion could swear some older Lords had crapped their pants when they had met him for the first time, believing to see a ghost. It was always the same, first they think he is only a stern looking man, but when they come nearer, seeing his facial expression, feeling his presence, his gaze they go pale. Same for the men who knew Ned Stark, the northern Lords, always saw a ghost.
And why not Ned, was much like their grandfather, calculating, he had political acumen, was ruthless, controlling, intelligent. He appeared cold; his lack of wolf's blood didn't make it better. But after all this he had honour, more than anyone Gerion ever met. Ned's honour was more important to him than anything else, except family. He always watched out for their family, sometimes even argued with father about his handling of it. He would never forget an insult. He would never overlook a crime or act dishonourably.
Gerion remembered a year ago, they had been out for a drink when a tavern wench had been close to be roughly handled by two Lannister soldiers. Something like that happened every day and nobody cared, Gerion hadn't cared. They had sad in a corner; nobody had recognized them, Ned, Caspre and Gerion. Ned had stood up, he had been quick, yanked both men away from the girl, slammed their heads in the table with a painful force. He had let them a choice, Wall or his sword. They had chosen the Wall
Gerion loved his brother, but he was all too serious for his taste.
He accompanied him to the capital, even if he hated to ride; he was more comfortable on a ship. Ned was a very skilled sailor and loved the sea, for his sixteenth Nameday father bought him a swan ship from the summer isles. Only a week later he and two other ships had beat ten long ships with ironborn pirates.
And because it had seemed Ned had liked it he had attacked the pirate's home base, burning their docs and capturing all pirates. Mother had been furious with him, how could he have been so reckless, she had asked him. Brining himself in danger.
"It was the right thing to do" He had replied "For the Westerlands, the realm and justice."
Father and mother had had the choice to punish him or reward him, they had chosen middle way. Making him Admiral of the sunset sea, a task with many duties and work. But now he was one of the most famous sailors in the realm, short behind Lord Seaworth.
Gerion would need him in King's Landing, Catty had said so and he trusted her in such things.
His sister Catelyn, or Catty, was fourteen, and by far the smartest of them all. Her look tended more to the Lannister side of the family. Aunt Genna once said she would look a bit like Cersei, except her blue eyes and red golden hair.
Gerion never believed that, he only knew the fat and bloated, constant drunk aunt Cersei who lived in a small villa at the edge of Lannisport. She had to live there because fifteen years ago, when father's ship was missing in a storm, she had tried to overtake Casterly Rock. She had had a few supporters and apparently a tiny nice plan. His mother however had not only stopped her but had thrown her out, declaring she wouldn't be allowed in the Rock any more. She had been granted the villa and a livelihood, but nothing more. And when father had returned, Gerion's mother stayed hard.
But however, Catty was extraordinary. His little sister had no wolf's blood, like Ned. She loved books, stories and riddles. She was a gentle soul, compassionate with other and nice to everybody. She lived at the Rock, and wasn't engaged yet, there were many suitors but she refused everybody.
"Whoever marries me must beat me in a game of Cyvasse first." She once had told him.
Because of that Gerion had the suspicion Catty would never marry. She had a strategic mind without any match he knew. She always was searching for new Cyvasse players because nobody could beat her. Mother was the only one who held longer against her but eventually she would lose too. Father didn't even played with her any more, only if she asked him with her big eyes, he never refused such a plead. Both his sisters were good in it, making him do whatever they want with a small 'but father' and a little sulking.
But it was annoying with Catty that after some time she exhaled a number of turns until she would win, correcting it down with every turn. If she was quiet you knew you didn't screw up but you lose anyway.
That's why he trusted her opinion when she had said he should take Ned with him.
The last and youngest of his siblings was Brandon, or Jaime Lannister reborn like some, including Brienne and Brynden Tully named him.
It was true, Bran looked like their uncle, except the hair, he was like him too. But he also had the greatest amount of wolf's blood. He was a fighter, an extraordinary sword fighter, even in his young age. He had trained since he was five.
First it was Uncle Jaime; he had seen his talent first. Gerion remembered how he had positioned himself between him and the lemon cakes in the garden in King's Landing, Bran had to fight him with a wooden stick to get to the plate. At the end uncle Jaime always laid laughing on the ground and Bran sat on him enjoying his cakes. Brienne had been the one to teach him, their mother's guard had been more than suitable for the task of training him. It was said he would already been able to beat most knights of the realm, even their uncle in his prime.
Now Bran was the squire for Edric Dayne the sword of the morning in Starfall, in Dorne. Edric was also their uncle; he had married their mother's sister Arya. They had three daughters, Visenya, Rhaenys and Ashara. He really liked them all and he was looking forward to see Rhaenys in the capital where she was one of Queen Margaery's Ladies.
Gerion suspected aunt Arya was building up Bran's skills in fighting too. She was after all very skilled, not a very good Lady tough. He knew his brother would be one of the greatest knights these lands ever had seen.
Gerion thought it could be good to write about the rest of his family now, his big and wide spread family.
He wrote about his cousin Myrcella and her husband Trystane Martell in Dorne and their son Lyvar, who would join him in King's Landing. Lyvar was a dornish, lean and a bit dull but a good man, although a bit too ambitious. Then there was of course the King.
Tommen was older than him, a good man, a good King, but like been said, weak. He only had one child, a son, Robert, he was exactly like him. King and prince cared more for kittens and amusements than to rule. This created the need for a Hand, a Hand they could trust, family. Gerion was sure, after him his son would follow him as Hand and his son him.
He wrote about his grandmother, Catelyn Stark, who travelled all around Westeros to be with all of her grandchildren at least once a year. She always had much to travel.
For example to Winterfell where Lord Robb Stark ruled the North. Sadly his first wife, Jeyne, died in childbirth seven years ago. He then had married a Frey, honouring some old pack, but had still no child with her. Surprisingly for a Frey, Gerion never understood why he had let this scum near him. But there was Torrhen, Robb's son and heir. Gerion didn't know him well, Torrhen hardly left Winterfell, or the North at all.
Different was it with his cousin Rickon, the Lord of the Dreadfort. He had often visited Casterly Rock, when they had been there, bringing his two sons and four daughters, much younger than them. The oldest was as old as Bran now.
Then there were his other uncle Brandon Stark who married Shireen Baratheon and lived with her at Storm's End, together with their daughter Mearlia and their son Stannis the younger. Gerion's family often visited them when they had been in King's Landing; it was only a few days away. They had played at the shores, climbing up the cliffs, causing their guards madness.
To mention would also be his Hoster Tully, the heir to Riverrun. He and Gerion fought together against minor Lords who thought to rebel. He would be waiting for them to come to King's Landing as well. He wanted to follow his idol the late Blackfish as Master of Law.
There were also many, many Lannister cousins Gerion hadn't the nerve to list, alone uncle Kevan's fifteen grandchildren were more than too much. He also didn't mention his cousin at the Vale, the shaking coward Lord, how the people call him.
All in all Gerion could say he was a member of the most powerful family in Westeros. They were Lannister, Stark and a bit Tully. They were powerful enough to withstand everything and to be safe.
And his part of the family were the strongest, because if wolf and lion mingle nothing can stop them, nobody would stop him.
He ended the last sentences and decided to continue later. There would be a long journey and then he would have to rule.
I did it!
I never imagined it would take so long to reach this; I headed for this since I decided to take the story over six chapters
Sorry if it's a bit cheesy, I know that
I actually feel bad to end it, really bad but for now I told everything I had to tell, I have some other stories to tell now but maybe I will write some sequels for this
I will spent the next weeks with checking the old chapters and cleaning up, if there is a beta who wants to help, just say it
Maybe I will use the children more often in different stories
I must say it was a great time to write this for my favourite pairing, I am much to involve in than I suspected. I just hope you all liked the story, I liked to write it and to share it with you, show me your love by reviewing, telling me your opinion