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Fields of Gold - (Jaime SI), CH:27
🕑 Added 2025-11-01 03:38:06 +0000 UTCTYWIN
Night came with a sudden and almost brutal speed, as if a heavy shroud of black velvet had been forcefully drawn across the skies of King's Landing. Within the countless corridors of the Red Keep, servants hurried. Candles were lit one by one, their trembling flames fighting a losing battle, small flickering points of light trying to pierce the thick darkness that now swallowed all form and sound around them. The air felt bitingly cold against the skin, carrying a sticky dampness, and the unmistakable aroma of the capital: a mixture of the spirit of thousands of people still active, sooty smoke from billowing chimneys, the faint smell of horse manure, and the salty, eternal scent of the sea.
Deep in the belly of the keep, in the vast, hot kitchens of the Red Keep, Tywin Lannister sipped his wine. He ignored the clamor of the cooks and kitchen hands in the distance, their hustle and bustle merely an irrelevant background hum. The dark red liquid swirled slowly in his cup, catching the light of the hearth fire. His eyes were fixed on a stone wall before him. He was not truly seeing it, yet his mind traced it with an unnatural intensity. He noted every fine crack that split the mortar, every faint stain from spilled wine or gravy that soiled its surface, and even every tiny speck of soot that seemed to tell silent stories of endless activity.
However, his mind was not in the kitchen. His mind was filled with Aerys. A king now beyond repair, rotten to the core. Every day spent in that man's presence was an extraordinary test of his patience. He had to stand there, listening to endless ramblings about all sorts of ridiculous things. Meanwhile, he himself could only remain silent, as stiff as a stone statue that could not move.
He hated that feeling. He hated it with every fiber of his being. A suffocating feeling of helplessness, as if his fate, his legacy, and his family's future were entirely in the grasp of the foolish man sitting on that monstrous iron throne. He would shed these shackles. He was a Lannister. And a Lannister would never allow such a situation to drag on, allowing his honor and power to be eroded bit by bit by a jealous king.
His thoughts shifted, his focus now turning to other possibilities, to the branches of destiny he would have to force to grow. He had to do something if, or rather, when, the bond between Rhaegar and Cersei could not be realized. Another betrothal had to be considered, an alliance that would benefit House Lannister, a move that would strengthen his position. However, he would not be hasty. Haste was weakness.
Besides, there were still many opportunities.
Time, for him, was a deep, dark river, flowing unpredictably. And at every moment, in every ripple on the surface, new opportunities would always appear for those wise enough to look for them. He just had to be patient a little longer, observe carefully, and then seize it when the opportunity came. Exactly like a master fisherman who patiently prepares the best hook and bait, who studies the currents and the weather, then sits and waits for as long as he can, for hours, for days, until a large, valuable fish takes his bait.
Yes, no matter what one did in life, whether it was forging a sharp sword, fighting on a bloody and muddy battlefield, or ruling a vast kingdom, the core of it all remained the same: patience, strategy, and the ability to see and exploit opportunities.
Feeling enlightened, and a little calmer from his thoughts, Tywin then thought of his son, Jaime. The reports kept coming. His son was performing the tasks ordered by Tygett well, with dedication and skill. This was from Jaime's own reports, written neatly on paper, as well as from Tygett's reports. Jaime was doing the right thing.
And all this time, Jaime had never met his betrothed, Catelyn Tully, in person. Tywin was of the opinion that his son's current duties were far more important. Especially since the engagement itself was already tightly locked, sealed by promises between two Great Houses, and could not be contested.
However, he now felt that this was the right time. Time to let them meet. A connection, a personal bond, was much needed even in a political engagement. It smoothed the alliance. Especially if Jaime, with his charm and intelligence, could make the girl truly fall in love with him. A wife who adored her husband would be far easier to control in the future. Catelyn would become a more obedient tool in the hands of House Lannister.
With that thought, Tywin planned to send a raven to Tygett soon. His orders would be clear: he must go with Jaime to Riverrun. An official visit. The same letter, more polite, would also reach Hoster Tully, Catelyn's father, announcing their arrival.
Tywin sipped his wine again tonight, but did not finish it. He set the cup down with a soft clink on the rough wooden table. He would not allow himself to get drunk, not even slightly. His mind had refocused on the next steps.
Standing slowly, Tywin then walked towards the kitchen exit. His sharp, pale green eyes stared flatly at the people who glanced his way, a dishwasher with red hands, a sweating cook. These lowly people, who immediately turned their gazes back to their work, filled his mind with a single word: weak. That was what was on Tywin's mind. People like them would only ever be in a place like this, mired in nothingness, never able to ascend to the highest peaks of power and influence.
They could not even meet his eyes.
As he walked down the corridor filled with the dim light from the many candles hanging on the walls, Tywin went out a side door, feeling the cool, gentle night breeze hit his face. The air outside felt fresh after the heat of the kitchen. He saw the expanse of countless stars twinkling in the pitch black sky, and thought that they must have been up there for a long time, eternal, never disappearing. And House Lannister, would always be like that.
They would be the brightest star in the sky.
"It is bright and cloudless today, the stars look so beautiful, which makes one want to watch them for a long time, is that not true, Lord Hand?"
That calm voice broke his reverie. Tywin turned, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. It was Rhaegar Targaryen, beside him stood the red-haired Jon Connington, loyal as a guard dog. Tywin bowed his head slightly, a stiff and measured gesture of respect.
"Their beauty is indeed worthy of admiration, Prince." Tywin agreed, his voice flat. "But as a man with much work, it is a pity I do not have much time to simply gaze at the sky."
"I would have expected as much, being Hand is difficult." Rhaegar smiled faintly, a smile full of understanding. At least this boy appreciated his efforts more than his father did.
Tywin nodded lightly. "When one wants this kingdom to run as it should, they must bear all of it." He then changed the subject, his eyes glancing briefly at the small harp Rhaegar was carrying. "What do you intend to do on a night like this, Prince?"
Tywin already knew what the prince wanted to do, of course. The prince and his obsession with music.
"I spent today practicing with my sword constantly on the training ground," Rhaegar explained. "So my whole body is sore. I thought of singing, it calms my mind. I have a great many songs, and your son, Lord Hand, has given me some of them."
"Jaime does enjoy singing songs," Tywin confirmed, his voice remaining flat. It was a small lie, or rather, an assumption stated as fact. He had personally never heard the boy sing; he had no time for such frivolities. "He also likes to practice with Cersei." This fact he knew.
"Ah, Lady Cersei." Rhaegar's smile widened slightly, his indigo eyes softening for a moment in memory. "Yes, she has a fine voice. I have played the harp for her."
Tywin knew that. Cersei's effort to learn with Jaime, apparently, was not in vain. There was a small, cold satisfaction within him. At least the girl was beginning to think that different skills were needed to bind different people. She was starting to understand that beauty alone was not enough, especially in this court, which was filled with dozens of beautiful women from every corner of the kingdom. Rhaegar Targaryen, the prince, must have been bored of it. He craved something more, and Cersei, it seemed, was beginning to learn how to provide it.
Behind Rhaegar, Tywin noticed Jon Connington make an almost invisible bored face. His brow furrowed slightly and his lips thinned. His devotion to the prince was already common knowledge.
"What song do you wish to play today, Prince?" Tywin said, bringing the conversation back on track. He had other things to do, not stand in the cold and discuss music.
Rhaegar laughed softly. "This is a song your son told me of, Lord Hand. A haunting melody. I am sure you have heard it often at Casterly Rock." The prince hugged his harp a little tighter. "Would you care to join me and hear me sing my version?"
No, Rhaegar was very wrong. Tywin never knew what songs Jaime had, nor did he care, as long as the hobby did not interfere with more important duties. The invitation was clearly extended half in jest, a formal politeness that was expected to be formally declined.
However, Tywin, in an instant, decided to see where this would lead.
"Certainly," Tywin said.
He even allowed a small smile, a stiff and rarely shown muscle movement, to touch his lips.
The reaction was exactly as he had expected. The answer seemed to leave Rhaegar and, even more so, Connington, completely stunned. Rhaegar's eyes widened slightly in confusion before he managed to control himself, while Connington looked as if Tywin had just announced he would dance naked under the moonlight.
"Very well," Rhaegar said. His voice, usually full of calm confidence, now sounded a little hesitant. The prince clearly had not expected his offer to be accepted, and now seemed a bit unsure what to do. "Let us go to a quieter place then. Over there, near the small tower."
They walked in heavy silence. Tywin followed behind him, his steps measured and soundless. Connington walked at Rhaegar's side, his posture stiff and protective, his wary eyes glancing briefly at Tywin before staring straight ahead again. The night wind rustled softly through the trees.
They found an isolated bench in the shadow of an old tower, far from the main path and hidden from most of the castle windows. There were not many people here; in fact, there was no one. The place was deserted, silent, lit only by the cold starlight and the dim light from the moon.
Rhaegar sat on the bench, placing his harp on his lap. Jon Connington remained standing behind him. Tywin did not sit next to the prince; instead, he remained standing for a moment, observing, before finally sitting on the other end of the cold bench. The stone felt hard and uncomfortable beneath him, a familiar and almost calming sensation.
Rhaegar's long, slender fingers hovered over the harp strings, but he did not play yet. He looked at Tywin, a thin, nervous smile playing on his lips.
"Well, Lord Hand, since you are willing to see me play this time, I feel I must at least try to make you enjoy it."
It was an attempt to be polite, to ease the awkwardness between them. Tywin simply looked at him, his face unreadable in the gloom.
"I have often heard you play music and sing," Tywin said, his voice flat. "Though only in passing, when walking through the halls or gardens, Prince. And it is very good."
It was the truth. The prince's music was one of the few things in King's Landing that did not sicken him. It was structured, precise, and executed with a technical skill that Tywin could appreciate.
Before Rhaegar could respond to the unexpected compliment, Connington spoke up for the first time. His tone was sharp, as if defending the prince from an unspoken criticism.
"Yes, your singing is good, Rhaegar," he said quickly. "You do not need to be modest every time. Just play."
Rhaegar's eyes met Tywin's for a final moment, as if seeking confirmation. Tywin just gave a slight nod, once. It was enough.
Then Rhaegar played his harp.
The melody was foreign. Not like the grand melodies of Westeros or the lewd songs from the taverns. The notes were simple, clean, and filled with a deep melancholy. Then, the singing came. Rhaegar's voice was clear and strong, carrying a sadness that seemed to surpass his age.
"Yesterday,"
That one word hung in the cold night air. Yesterday.
"All my troubles seemed so far away."
The song began strongly, and suddenly, without his permission, Tywin's mind was thrown back. Not to last year, or a decade ago, but to a past that felt like only yesterday. An image so clear it hurt appeared in his mind: Joanna. Not the pale, sick Joanna on her childbed, but Joanna alive. She was smiling at him on the balcony of Casterly Rock, her golden hair gleaming in the sunset, her green eyes, the same green as Cersei's, but full of warmth, crinkling at the corners with laughter. Yesterday.
"Now it looks as though they're here to stay."
The thought shifted, like a cloud covering the sun. Joanna was gone. And those troubles were indeed here to stay. Much further back, he remembered Aerys. Not the tense king on the throne, but the young Aerys, Prince Aerys. Handsome, charming, cheerful. The two of them, like two inseparable people, planning the renewal of the kingdom in these very halls. They were going to bring unprecedented prosperity.
"Oh, I believe in yesterday."
Yes, he believed in yesterday. Yesterday was where things made sense. Now they were still physically close, Aerys on the Iron Throne, he in the Tower of the Hand, yet the distance between them felt greater than the stretch from Dorne to the Wall.
Rhaegar took a breath, his eyes closed, completely immersed in the music.
"Suddenly,"
"I'm not half the man I used to be."
"There's a shadow hangin' over me."
"Oh, yesterday came suddenly."
Everything had changed. Joanna's death was a sudden storm, ripping away his anchor. And Aerys's corruption... was that sudden too?
Rhaegar's fingers moved across the strings, the notes becoming more urgent, more questioning.
"Why she had to go, I don't know, she wouldn't say."
"I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday."
The song softened again, returning to the heart-wrenching initial melody.
"Yesterday."
"Love was such an easy game to play."
"Now I need a place to hide away."
"Oh, I believe in yesterday."
The final string vibrated in the air, its note holding for a long time before finally fading into total silence.
Rhaegar let his hands rest on the harp. The silence seemed thicker than before. Jon Connington looked at his prince, then at Tywin, his face tense. Rhaegar himself looked emotionally drained, but he watched Tywin with curious eyes, awaiting judgment.
Tywin did not move. He sat petrified on the cold bench. The enlightenment came, not as a storm, but as a cold, absolute clarity.
Ah, Tywin understood it. He finally understood.
The song, that song had given him the key. The Aerys who was here, in the Red Keep, was not the Aerys of yesterday. He was not his lost friend.
He was the shell of that man, a man possessed by a gnawing stress. He was just someone wearing his friend's skin.
The Aerys he knew was dead, as surely as Joanna, killed not by poison or dagger, but by his own burdens and by Tywin's success. And this man sitting on the Iron Throne, he should not be there, it was because he was weak. He did not deserve to wear that crown.
The thought freed him. The loyalty that had bound him for so many years, the sense of responsibility that had weighed him down, it all vanished. He owed no loyalty to this fragile, jealous man, who cared more for his wounded ego than the prosperity of the kingdom.
Slowly, Tywin turned his head to look at the prince.
"You played it well, Prince," Tywin said. His voice was calm.
Rhaegar looked slightly relieved, though he clearly did not understand the depth behind those words. "I am glad you liked it, Lord Hand."
Tywin liked it very much. The song had given him more than just a moment's entertainment. It had given him clarity. His mind was clearer now than ever before. The fog of frustration had lifted. He knew what he had to do. Not now, not tomorrow, but the path was clear.
Glancing at Rhaegar again for a little longer. Tywin felt free.
Comments
Original Name
I wonder if Tywin will reflect on the value of things like art and have some character development after this. He'd consider things like that a waste of time.
Dan
One song there one step there one smile there and a timeline is shattered and I can't wait to see how all of the pieces fall into a new age
