Before an indigo sky ablaze with starlight, the castle of Casterly Rock brooded silently-its stone facade aglow in cold, uncaring white. Tywin Lannister, master in all but name of this rock-fast stronghold, could hear his footsteps echo down the corridors as he climbed to Joanna's chamber. His heart was like a drummer going into battle, every step a sort of confession that brought him closer to some confrontation he had hoped to avoid. He knew the path well; he had made his way up it many times but seldom with such trepidation.
The torches were dancing, flinging their shadows on the stone walls-the castle alive and conspiring in dark hints. The congealed air was heavy with candle wax and the hint of lavender that always seemed to find its way into Joanna's room. Her chamber door faced him huge and imposing, a barrier to the storm fermenting inside. A deep breath came as his hand fell to rest upon the handle; its coolness kissed his skin. An eternity passed before he opened the door.
And in an instant, it was the room beyond which changed, another creation born of Tywin's System: the grain in the wood of the door, the tapestries upon the walls, even the folds of Joanna's gown twisting new life as every thread and stone was made new to his sight. It would almost have seemed, at that very moment, that he had unlocked X-Ray Vision. He seemed to peep into a dollhouse, for he could see through the layers of the castle. The fear that had gnawed at him but a moment before now faded like the mist in the morning sun.
"Tywin," Joanna's voice melted into the silence, a soft susurrus of love and relief. She ran to him, her eyes brimming with tears that she did not shed. Her arms were warm, enfolding him from cold stone corridors; he felt her heart beating, a rhythmic cadence that joined his. And in her love, he felt the weight of a palpable thing-a force that could melt the coldest of winters.
"My love," Tywin whispered, drawing her close. He had no need for his newly bestowed sight to see the pain upon her face, the furrows of concern that had not been there the last he had laid eyes on her. Long he had been away, serving a king whose paranoia was fast assuming legendary proportions. Upon his shoulders lay the weight of duty and honor, but beside her, it might have been some half-remembered dream.
Joanna let herself fall backward, her eyes searching for his. "You've come back," she said in a shaking voice. "But why?" And within them shone a hope bright enough to cut through the fog of doubt that blocked his own mind.
Tywin blew a heavy sigh; the weight of his decision weighed upon him. "The Queen," he started low-voiced and slow, "has convinced Aerys that I am becoming too powerful." He watched as it seeped into her face, her lips frowning. "The Mad King thinks there is some kind of Lannister plot going on, and so he recalls me to Casterly Rock."
She kept her gaze on his, that unspoken question between them in the air. "But what of your duty?" she asked low enough that it barely passed her lips.
"Duty is a chain," growled gruff Tywin. "One that chafes with every passing day. The king's madness is a disease, and it infects us all. And yet, I must confess, duty feels like a heavy burden, one I am beginning to fear that I shall never be able to put aside, for our family's sake as well as for the realm." His eyes strayed away to the floor. "Yet, there are things I must tell you.
She looked in his eyes, nodding slow. "I knew," she said, her voice tinged with sadness, as if some sort of acceptance. "I felt it within your letters, the coldness, the absence of you." Then she took a deep breath, as if to steel herself against what was to come.
Tywin's hand clutched hers more firmly, his eyes pinning her down. "I am sorry," he said. "But you must understand, the court is a pit of adders. A man has appetites."
Joanna searched his eyes, while inside her a whirlwind had been stirred. "Appetites?" she said, barely above a whisper. "Or was it love?"
Regret etched into features, a clench of his jaw. "It was never anything more than momentary solace, Joanna," he returned huskily with honesty. "You are the heart of my house, the very core of my being. The whispers and shadows of the court are but a game, a dance for survival. I did what was necessary to protect our family's standing."
She did not look away from him; the storm in her eyes refused to break. "What about me?" she asked, hurt and anger lacing in her voice. "What am I in your grand design?
"Thou art all," Tywin said, his voice now ringing with emotion tinged with his guilt. "Mine rising and mine setting sun, my reason for shouldering the lion's burden. Mine—" He leaned forward, stroking her cheek, following with his thumb the track of a tear that escaped her eye.
Joanna released him and the contact was gone, easing away. "Then why?" she whispered her question hanging in the air, a mute heavy accusation.
Because the realm is at peril," Tywin returned, his voice unyielding as stone. "The Mad King's dance upon the throne is wild and full of danger, and things could get worse at any moment. And if he falls, we all fall with him." Then he turned from her, pacing, his face flickering in shadow and light with every step in the light of the torches. "I have plans, Joanna. Plans to keep our house intact, our legacy to stand when all the others break into dust. I do."
Joanne searched his eyes, and the sadness inside them deepened further. "At what cost?" she asked, barely louder than a whisper.
Tywin's eyes went distant, out beyond the walls of the chamber to the lands beyond. "At all costs," he replied, his voice unraised, his resolute intent plain. "We are Lannisters. We pay our debts, and the Iron Throne is one we cannot afford to slight."
The silence that then fell was as heavy as the armor he was wearing. Joanna looked at him-her love now laced with something else, something dark and rather more heartbreaking. "And us?" she whispered, her voice breaking like the thin crust of a leaf. "What of us?"
"We endure," Tywin said, his voice level as he turned back to her. "We have always endured. Our love is a fortress in these perilous times." Yet, even as he spoke, a gnawing doubt pulled at him. The walls of the castle, once solid and strong, felt fragile to his new consciousness-eggshells of the most part. He knew full well the price his decisions would exact on them both.
He leaned forward, his hand falling onto her shoulder, and whispered, "Now, more than ever, I need your strength. The coming battles are not to be won with swords but with guile and strategy." And he watched her take that deep, hard-won breath; the battle that was raging within her for control showed in the rise and fall of her chest as candlelight continued shifting across her face in shadow, illuminating her resolve.
"What about us" she asked once more, this time impregnating her voice with an air of determination.
Tywin took her hands in his, his eyes unyielding. "We shall survive," he told her, certain of that. "We shall endure this through together, just as we have always done." And yet, deep inside, he knew-the truth was, his duty to the realm would always be first, even when it meant sacrificing the comfort of her presence.
"I must go now," he said, his voice heavy with his decision. "There is much to be done, preparations to make. The suspicion of the Mad King is a tempest gathering on the horizon, and we would do well to be prepared to face it."
And Joanna's eyes, searching his, were so filled with her sorrow. "And what of me?" she whispered once more-a whisper within the stillness of the room.
"You will stay here," Tywin said, unmoving. "You will hold Casterly Rock strong, be the rock upon which our house is founded. Your strength is needed here." He knew his words were fruitless, but a shadow of what she wanted to hear. He had no choice. The realm required his presence, and he must answer.
Joanna's gaze raked his, tangled in a mess of anguish and determination. "And your love?" she whispered.
And with that, Tywin felt her words cinch tight around his chest, as if piercing right through his heart. "Love," he growled out, in a low gruff voice, "is a luxury we cannot afford in these times." He knew it was a lie, but it was one he must plant upon her for protection-to protect her from the monsters standing behind the curtains of political power.
She nodded heavily, a weighty sigh escaping her lips. "Then go," she said, her voice stark. "Do as you must for the realm." And with that, she turned away; the fabric of her gown whispered to itself in a harsh tone, as did the castle spirits.
Tywin watched her retreat, in the curvature of her spine a heavy reminder of the ever-growing space between them. It was a hand raised in the air, a dumb goodbye which she made a conscious decision to ignore. He knew the journey ahead was going to be treacherous, and he couldn't afford to be enfeebled by his own emotions. Throwing one last, sorrowful glance at the woman who had once been his everything, he left the chamber; the door creaking shut behind him with that finality which reverberated along the corridor.
In his private chambers, Tywin shed his armor with practiced ease, the steel falling to the floor in a ringing sound-a chime, a knell, one burden ending, another beginning. He felt utterly drained-the kind of weariness that gets into your bones-but sleep would not come. His mind racing, he slipped into the soft robes awaiting him, soft fabric a marked contrast to cold steel that had protected him. He could only replay the conversation with Joanna-a scuffle of words and emotions that left him more vulnerable than any duel .
He knew that Joanna's heart shattered, splintering into countless pieces catching the flickering candlelight. And yet he did not budge from his decision. The road was made from unyielding stone, and he was to tread it alone. The smell of lavender in her chamber clung to his clothes, a gentle reminder of the warmth he was leaving behind. Yet, long ago he had made his choice: his duty to the realm, his star guiding him through treacherous waters of politics and betrayal.
The candles danced in his face, shadows playing on the walls as Tywin came to his desk, the flames as unpredictable as the thoughts inside his head. He filled a goblet with wine and lifted it to his face, deep crimson shining in the firelight as if molten. He sipped, the flavor rich, so different from the bitterness of his choices. Jo needed to see the size of their circumstance; she needed to know her love wasn't able to be the light to get him through the darkness. It was a fire that could only burn so hot before it consumed them both.
The knock at the door yanked him from his reverie, an abrupt invasion against the silence of the night. "Enter," he commanded, firmness in the tone unyielding.
The door creaked open, and there she was: Genna Lannister, her outline a fluid curve atop the candlelight that framed her with a dark halo. Beautiful, certainly, yet the edge in her glance spoke volumes against the softness of her features. "Brother," she told him, her tone silky smooth yet with accusation hanging in every word. "You have returned to the Rock, and yet you have seen fit to ignore your family. Your brothers Gerion and Tygett are very much offended by your lack of courtesy."
And Tywin did not lift his gaze from the parchments laid before him, his hand poised above the quill as if weighing the next move in this chess game of thrones. "There is no time for pleasantries," he grumbled. "The realm is at peril, and I must take immediate action to ensure the future of our house."
"Ah, but family is the very bedrock of that house," Genna replied, her voice light, yet laced with an undercurrent of steel. She moved closer to him, her form limned with gold in the light from the candle. "Is it too much to ask from a big brother that he should embrace his little sister?
Tywin's eyes rose from the parchments to regard her, his face expressionless. "Forgive me, Genna. My duties summoned me to the king, and now they draw me back to the Rock." He sipped his wine, the warmth of the fluid smooth as it cascaded down his throat.
"Duty can be a cold companion," she said, her lips twisting in a sly smile. "Yet it sometimes opens the door to unexpected opportunities." The fire crackled, the shadows danced, as she moved closer to him, her eyes blazing with an avidity that made the hairs on his neck stand on end. "I have heard tales of your deeds in Dorne, Tywin. How you quelled the rebellion without spilling a single drop of Lannister blood."
"It was a calculated victory," Tywin said, lounging back in his chair. "The Dornish are a proud people, but they are not immune to weakness."
Genna's smile deepened, her eyes fairly glinting as she leaned toward him. "And your own weaknesses, brother?" The sultry whisper that was her voice seemed to fill the room.
The unexpected turn in conversation took Tywin by surprise, and his heartbeat quickened. He had known games were being played in the dark corridors of Casterly Rock, but nothing like this from Genna-never from Genna. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice controlled.
"You know precisely what I mean," she returned, her eyes darkening with a glance of unmistakable desire. "I am wedded to Emmon Frey, a man I do not love. And yet, here you are, a conqueror, a man who has shown his strength and his guile. You are the true lion of our house, and I would rather be the lioness at your side than just some pawn in this endless game of thrones."
His gaze swept down over her, the candle flames darting across full breasts, the points of her nipples straining against the fabric of her dress. The waist was tightly cinched, showing the curve of her hips, and the shape of her backside was tantalizing as it never had been before. Her words came as a siren's song, a whispered temptation that stirred some primal thing in his chest. He knew he shouldn't indulge such thoughts, she was his sister-being one of the lamest excuses at best, as he was married to his cousin, and his duty lay elsewhere-but the modern man inside of him, the one filled with needs and desires this world could never hope to fully understand, found her proposition stimulating.
"Genna," he began, his voice a warning. "You speak out of turn. Our family has a duty, a legacy to see to."
"Duty is a cold, unbending force," she whispered, her fingertips dancing lightly across his arm. "But passion… passion is the fire that fuels us, that makes us truly alive."
Tywin's resolve weakened; his gaze flickering to her lips. "I am married," he replied, the words empty as they fell from his lips.
"So am I," Genna threw back, her hand sliding down to track the swell of her hip. "But marriage is nothing more than a political expedient, not a cage for our passions." She leaned in, her breath warm on his neck. "We could be so much with each other, Tywin. So much more than pawns in a game we never wanted.
Tywin swallowed hard; his resolution was the stern granite of the Red Keep, shaking at the weight of her words. "Genna," he said, the word forced tight within his throat. "This is madness. You cannot betray your vow."
"Betray?" she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Or is it simply the truth we're too frightened to speak? Not to each other, not to ourselves." Her thumb touched his bottom lip and sent a jolt of desire where it oughtn't to be. "We are Lannisters, Tywin. We take what we want. And I want you."
The words were a husky whisper that caressed his very soul. He knew he should push her away, yet his body obviously had other ideas. His arms wrapped around her, and before he could reconsider, she was perched on his lap with her warmth pressed against his growing need. Her eyes locked with his-the challenge therein. "Show me," she purred, "that you are the lion I believe you to be."
The low groan escaped Tywin's lips as he gave in to the intoxicating attraction of his sister's touch. He fell back against his chair, pulling her down closer. Soft curves molded with perfection against his rigid body. His hand moved up her thigh, chafing against the fabric of her dress, and he could feel the heat emanating from her through the material. His will broke like glass under a hammer. "Genna," he whispered, his voice full of longing.
Yet her eyes never once left his as her hand stroked between them, deft fingers moving with quick certainty through the laces of his trousers. And in one economical gesture she freed his cock, its considerable length standing proud. Her hand wrapped around it, her hold sure, stroking him in time to the surge of pleasure that flooded through him. "You see, Tywin?" she whispered. "We are not quite so different after all."
He felt her heat against his thigh, the warmth seeping through the fabric of his robe. Grunting, he shoved the chair back and rose with her still in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers tangling into his hair as he carried her to the desk. The parchments and inkwells were shoved noisily aside, forgotten remnants of the duty that had brought him here.
The cold, hard wood such a contrast to the softness of her skin as he laid her upon it.
"Big brother," Genna moaned, a sweet sweet melody of desire. "Take me, claim me."
Tywin's eyes darkened with lust as he positioned himself between her parted thighs. Her sex was slick with need-a testament to the fire that was igniting between them. He didn't bother undressing her completely, his hands pushing her dress up until her round creamy thighs were visible, the fabric clinging to the curve of her backside. Her pussy was a soft inviting mound, the folds glistening with her arousal. He traced the length of her slit with his thumb, watching as she bit her bottom lip, her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice low and growly in a way that seemed to echo through the very stones of the castle. "Look at me as I take you, as I claim you."
Genna's eyes flew open, her hunger matching the feral need in his own. She leaned back, hands clamping on the edges of the desk as Tywin aligned himself at her entrance. He could see the anticipation build in her gaze, her chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. "Big brother," she whispered, the words some sort of sweet incantation that sent a shiver of forbidden thrill through him.
In one smooth stroke, he had himself buried inside her, her tight, wet heat filled to bursting with his considerable girth. She gasped, shooting her eyes wide in shock and pleasure. "Oh, Tywin," she moaned, a delicious symphony of desire. "You're so… big."
A low, dark chuckle escaped his lips as he never looked away from hers and began to move; the groan of the desk beneath them a soft accompaniment. "Is that so surprising, little sister?" he whispered; the strokes beginning long and deep. "I've always been the one to take what I want."
Her back arched off the desk as Tywin enveloped her with his presence, Genna's eyes fluttering. "Oh, big brother," she breathed melodiously. "You feel wonderful."
"You're mine, Genna," Tywin said, powerfully commanding in his movements. "Always have been, always will be."
"Big brother," she stammered, her eyes fixed in his as she replied to each of his thrusts with a rising eagerness. The rhythmic movements of her body made her curves more pronounced with each impact. "Oh, yes, yes."
Tywin watched her closely, his body echoing his urge. He plunged into her with strength, the slapping of their skin loud in the room. Her body responded, clamping down on him, wriggling under his weight, her groans of pleasure keening louder. "You're so... amazing," she breathed, her voice barely audible.
"Am I?" he asked, and a dark chuckle spilled from his lips. "Or is it that you revel in the sensation of your brother's cock inside you?"
"Oh, Tywin," Genna gasped as with every deep thrust, her eyes would roll back. "I have never felt like that before. Not even with Emmon Frey." Her nails dug into the desk as she moaned his name, her body tightening, embracing his dominance.
"And you never will again," he whispered, his strokes growing urgent. "You're mine, Genna. Only mine." He watched her bite her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Her large, firm breasts bounced with every thrust, the nipples hard and pert from his earlier touch. Her narrow waist flared out to cradle her hips, her ass a round, tempting target for his hand.
Genna's eyes, wide with pupils dark and dilated with need searched for him. "Big brother," she moaned, her voice a sweet agony. "I'm... I'm going to cum."
"Good," Tywin grunted, arousal strengthening at the sound of her need. "Cum for me, Genna. Cum hard."
Her eyes went wide with her thrill, head thrown back as her mouth opened in a silent scream, her body beginning to convulse around him. Her pussy went tight as a vice, muscles in rhythmic contractions of ecstasy. Tywin felt the warmth of her climax coat his cock, juices spilling down his shaft. He loved the sensation of her breaking apart beneath him-a body being used for his pleasure.
"Big brother," she panted, her eyes with his once more. "Don't stop."
Tywin's hand had abandoned her waist, the sting of his palm against her ass leaving behind a trail of heat. "As you wish," he murmured, his tone a seductive promise which sent another quiver down her spine. He pulled out of her, the wet sound echoing in the room. Genna's pussy quivered at the loss, already begging for more. Tywin spun her around onto the desk. Her hands flailed up, grasping the edge in an attempt to steady herself. Cold wood pressed against her breasts, sending a thrill of chill through her body. Her full ass was now in the air, the fabric of her dress bunched around her waistline, exposing her fully to his gaze.
"Big brother," she whispered. His name was a soft plea. "Please."
Her words went into his ears like sweet music, banishing the din of doubt and guilt. Again he positioned himself at her entrance, his cock wet with her arousal. The tip nudged against her swollen pussy, teasing her clit with every soft thrust.
"Oh, big brother," Genna whimpered, her gaze locked to his. "Take me again."
Tywin's hand came down sharp on her ass, the sound echoing in the chamber. "With pleasure," he murmured, the dark intention thick in his voice. He leaned back into her, the slapping of his hand against her flesh echoing through every thrust, her skin already heating from his attentions, a warmth radiating off her that called like a beacon in the cool stone room. Her ass was perfectly formed, the cheeks full and inviting. His cock was a thick hard presence that filled her completely, stretching her tight pussy to the edge of pain and pleasure.
"Big brother," Genna whimpered, her eyes all longing. "Oh, gods, it feels so good."
"This will be your first child," Tywin whispered in her ear, full of dark promise. "Our secret, our legacy."
The weight of his words wraps around her like a warm, seductive hold as Genna's eyes just seem to lock with his. "Big brother," she breathed, the hazy uncertainty swirling within her desire. "I want this. I want your child."
"Good," rasped Tywin, low and rumbling, with a satisfied voice. "There will be no Frey getting in and staining our blood." Then he lay still a while longer, his hand still on her hip, savoring the aftershocks of pleasure. "Yet we must keep this union secret. The boy will think himself the son to Emmon Frey.
Genna nodded, still cloudy-eyed from her passion. "I know, big brother," she whispered. "Our love, our child, it will be ours alone."
Tywin's strokes became harder, tugging her hair. "You are mine," he snarled, hips thrusting deep within her. "To no one else."
"Oh, big brother," Genna moaned huskily with longing. "Always."
Tywin's hand in her hair firmed as he pulled her backward, the force of his thrusts sending her breasts surging forward. His eyes never once left hers, fire roaring in their depths in silent vow of the pleasure in store for her. She was tight and slick, clutching around him with every weight shift, begging for deeper, pleading for his release. He watched as her nipples enlarged with every thrust of his chest against her back, the full, round curves of her breasts jiggling with each movement.
"Big brother," Genna gasped, her voice a sweet song of need. "I'm going to cum again."
"Do," Tywin pressed, his own longing churning strongly, threatening to consume them both. "Cum for me, little sister. Let me feel you tighten around me once more."
She let out a shrill scream of ecstasy as her body shook with yet another wave of pleasure. Tywin felt her heat wrap around him, the muscles inside her womb contracting rhythmically as she fought through her climax. No longer able to restrain himself, the need to take her, to make her his own proved too much. He let himself go deep inside her, with a bestial roar that could be heard thunderously tearing through the halls of Casterly Rock and filled her completely.
He watched with possessive intensity as he backed up, her body still clinging to his, not wanting to release him. The warm, sticky residue from their joining oozed down her thighs, sure sign of their illicit meeting. He did not try to cover her, only drew back so that he could see the vision of her spread before him across the desk. Her breasts were full and heaving, rising with each labored breath, falling with the next, while her nipples were still sensitive and erect from his caresses.