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Fields of Gold - (Jaime SI), CH:26
🕑 Added 2025-10-31 03:05:55 +0000 UTCTYWIN
Tywin Lannister sat with Aerys Targaryen beside him, in a relaxed room shrouded in the afternoon silence. Golden light penetrated the windows, dancing on the light dishes of cheese, fruits, and a jug of dark Dornish red wine served on the low table between them. The silence was so thick, so intimate, as if only the two of them existed in the world.
Aerys's purple eyes glinted in the dim light, radiating an almost mad intensity that seemed so bright in the silence that enveloped them. For a brief, strange moment, Tywin felt thrown back to his childhood. Back to the long summer days, to a time when both their dreams were still aligned. A time when the man before him was not the King, but Aerys, his friend. A charming, spirited young man who often threw out ridiculous jests just to break Tywin's eternal seriousness.
The memory was so real, so vivid in his mind, as if it had just happened yesterday.
Yesterday. Yesterday was still fine. Before the crown poisoned Aerys's mind, before jealousy gnawed at their friendship until only a fragile husk remained.
"You're not drinking anymore, Tywin?" Aerys's voice broke Tywin's reverie. The King poured more wine into his own cup, his thin hand seeming to tremble for a moment. He raised the jug towards Tywin. "Come on, don't be shy. We all need something to clear our minds, don't we?"
Tywin's expression did not change. His stone mask was firmly in place. "It is still too early for me to drink, Your Grace."
"My friend, you are too strict," Aerys chuckled, a thin, hoarse sound, unlike the cheerful laugh Tywin once remembered. "What's wrong with drinking in the afternoon? To celebrate... well, the afternoon itself."
Tywin remained silent. He knew where this conversation was headed. This was not a friend's visit. This was a summons, a power play wrapped in false pleasantries. The pleasure of a conversation with the man before him had vanished long ago, buried under a pile of suspicions, small humiliations in front of the Council, and unspoken jealousy over Tywin's efficiency in ruling the kingdom. He had also buried the hope that their former intimacy would ever return.
Aerys sipped his wine, his restless eyes watching Tywin from over the rim of the cup. "I am still considering your daughter for Rhaegar, Ty," Aerys spoke slowly, his tone crafted to sound like a conspirator, a friend sharing a valuable secret.
"I know, Your Grace." Tywin replied, his voice as cold and flat as the highlands of the West.
"She is beautiful." Aerys smiled, a thin smile that did not reach his eyes. "Just like Joanna."
Hearing that made Tywin's mind freeze instantly. The bait had been cast. Of course Aerys would mention Joanna's name. The entire court knew that the young Aerys had wanted Joanna. It was an unhealthy obsession before he finally married his own sister, and even after. Saying Cersei was as beautiful as Joanna was, on one hand, the highest compliment. On the other, it was Aerys's cruel reminder of what he had desired from House Lannister in the past, and what he was considering taking, now. It was the King's way of saying, 'I wanted her mother, and now I hold her daughter's fate in my hands.' It was a small, disgusting power play.
"Yes," Tywin said, forcing himself to remain calm, ignoring the thorn in the compliment. "That is why she is suitable for Rhaegar, Your Grace." He decided to reply, not with emotion, but with facts. "Cersei also has a sharp mind. And, as you may have heard, they have a shared interest. Songs."
Tywin thought of the reports he had received, and the conversations with Cersei herself. His daughter, at Jaime's encouragement and now driven by her own ambition, had begun to change since the day she arrived in King's Landing. She started to pay more attention, to listen, and to learn. She spent time learning the romantic songs that Rhaegar liked, she even visited the Sept regularly to show her piousness. She was trying to become the perfect Queen.
"But that alone cannot sustain a kingdom, Ty." Aerys looked at him, the false warmth gone, replaced by his usual vacant stare. "Songs. A sharp mind. That's good for a Lady. But for a Queen? For dragon's blood? We need something else."
"For example?" Tywin felt a searing anger within him. Cold, not hot. A typical Lannister anger. 'Something else? What is better than my House? The cunning House Martell from Dorne? The overly ambitious House Tyrell? The poor and backward House Stark from the North? Who can offer more than Lannister gold, power, and intelligence?'
Aerys did not answer the question. He smiled again instead, a condescending smile that made Tywin's blood feel like it was freezing.
"You are my friend, Tywin. My good friend," Aerys nodded, as if convincing himself of his own lie. "We do not need a marriage alliance to remain close and on good terms. To keep this kingdom intact. Right?"
And there it was. The rejection wrapped in false nostalgia. Aerys was not just evading; he had thrown the offer away. He had rejected Cersei. He had rejected House Lannister.
Tywin did not let a single muscle in his face move. He refused to give Aerys the satisfaction of seeing his reaction. He had anticipated this as a possibility, of course. Aerys was increasingly erratic. But to hear the rejection spoken so lightly, framed as a continuation of their long-dead friendship, was an insult that went beyond political calculation.
"When our two Houses are united, Your Grace," Tywin replied, his voice remaining low and emotionless, ignoring the King's previous statement as if it were a trivial breeze. "It will be stronger. This alliance will ensure the kingdom remains intact even after we are gone." He let the words hang. We. Placing them on equal footing, as planners of a legacy.
Aerys laughed. Not the cheerful laugh of their youth, but a dry, thin laugh, like dead leaves being dragged by the wind over a tombstone.
"Ah, when we are gone..." Aerys swirled his cup, his eyes staring into the dark red liquid as if searching for answers in its depths. "Our story will still be told, Ty. Of course it will. And it will probably be much easier to spread than before." His purple eyes shifted to Tywin, glinting with a mix of scorn and... something darker. "It's all thanks to that 'clever' son of yours."
He said the word 'clever' as if it were a disease, a kind of disgusting poison. "Have you forgotten his new toy? The printing press?" Aerys snorted. "I hear he has copied The Seven-Pointed Star thousands of times." He waved his thin hand in a dismissive gesture. "That means he can also copy the story of our friendship. How wonderful. The tale of the Dragon and the Lion, bound forever in ink and paper, for everyone to read."
The comment, like a dagger wrapped in silk, landed squarely on target. Of course Aerys would belittle the achievement, twisting it into a mockery of their fractured legacy. Yes, his son Jaime had done that, with his permission, of course.
Tywin suppressed a wave of cold satisfaction. Let Aerys mock. The printing press was a revolution, and Tywin had monopolized it from the beginning. Cooperating with the High Septon, after a 'donation' that was enormous for the Great Sept of Baelor, had provided an invaluable blessing. The printed Seven-Pointed Star, identical and affordable, was now spreading throughout Westeros, carried by merchants and pilgrims.
It was a brilliant political coup. House Lannister was now seen as a pious protector of the faith, a spreader of the holy word. Septons across the kingdom, from the North and South, all praised him. Merchants in Lannisport and Oldtown queued to buy copies, each stamped with an inconspicuous little lion on the last page. It was an unprecedented return. Sure, the cost was enormous. Gold had flowed out of Casterly Rock like a river in spring to fund the press and 'encourage' the Faith's cooperation.
But it was worth it. Every coin was an investment in legitimacy, influence, and soft power. And as he always said, Lannister gold would never run out.
And not just that. Schools. Aerys didn't even know the half of it. While the first 'school' attached to the Sept in Lannisport, funded by the Lannisters, was quickly swarmed by the sons of wealthy merchants and master craftsmen wanting their children to learn to read, a larger blueprint was being laid.
A real school, a secular institution dedicated to teaching numbers, letters, and history, the Lannister version of history, was being built as well. Funded entirely by Casterly Rock. It would produce loyal scribes, and competent officers to manage the mines and ports. Knowledge was power, but controlled knowledge was domination.
"Ah, yes, our friendship," Aerys sighed, feigning sorrow, his thin lips still curved upwards in a false smile that didn't reach his eyes. He put down his cup with a small clink. "A rare gem, isn't it? As rare as... unwavering loyalty." He let the silence hang between them, heavy and accusatory.
The King's eyes narrowed, his focus sharpening on Tywin with an uncomfortable intensity. "You know, Tywin, sometimes I wonder." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I wonder, is loyalty like your gold?" He gestured to the cup in front of Tywin, the untouched cup. "The more you have, the more you want to protect." He paused, leaning a little closer, the sour smell of wine wafting from him. "And... the more you want to take."
The threat behind the words was clear: You are too greedy, Tywin. You are taking too much. Aerys saw his Hand's every move not as service to the realm, but as a personal hoarding of power. And perhaps, Tywin thought, he was not entirely wrong.
Tywin met the King's gaze without blinking. "Loyalty, Your Grace," Tywin replied, his voice as cold as ice, as sharp as a sword's edge. "Is the foundation of a kingdom. Without it, nothing can be built." He paused for a moment, choosing his words. "And gold is its mortar. Without the latter, even the strongest foundation will be useless, crumbling under its own weight, and finally turning to dust."
He didn't need to remind Aerys who had been providing that mortar for the past several years. Who had paid the crown's debts, funded tournaments, and rebuilt the fleet.
"True." Aerys agreed, too quickly. He picked up the jug again, his hand trembling more visibly now. Dark red wine spilled a little onto the polished wooden table, spreading like a bloodstain. "Very true." He chuckled, an unpleasant sound. "And that's why you made that 'paper' and 'printing press', isn't it? To make more of your reputation and gold at the same time?"
He pointed at Tywin with a wine-stained, thin finger. "Clever move, my Hand! Always clever!" The praise sounded like a curse, like the hiss of a snake. "But, Tywin..." Aerys leaned forward, his eyes wide in a parody of sincere concern, madness swirling in their depths. "I am warning you. As your friend." He spat the word 'friend' as if it were poison. "You had better be careful."
He took a deep swig of his wine, then slammed the cup on the table. "Your moves might be making some of the great Houses worried." He stared hard at Tywin. "It's too fast. Too... ambitious."
'One of them being yourself, isn't it?' Tywin thought coldly. 'You are the most worried of all. Worried that the Lion is no longer content to just be your shield, but is becoming brighter than you. You cannot match my competence, so you call it ambition.'
"I am only trying to make knowledge more affordable for the people, Your Grace." His voice was flat, a statement of fact, not a defense. "The strength of a kingdom lies in its enlightened people. A craftsman who can read is a good thing. A soldier who can read a map is harder to get lost." He paused, then added deliberately, "If some Lords prefer their people to remain ignorant and illiterate, that is a reflection of their own fear."
He let the implication hang: that a strong Lord is not afraid of an intelligent populace.
There. A twitch.
In Aerys's purple eyes, Tywin could see it, a quick, hot flash of anger, like lightning behind a storm cloud. The King did not like being told that his Lords, and by implication, himself, were backward or afraid. But it vanished as quickly as it came, swallowed by the ever-thickening wine.
"Well," Aerys chuckled, the sound now strained and fragile. "I am just reminding you." He leaned back, raising his cup. "To our friendship, Ty."
'And I am also reminding you,' Tywin thought, his gaze as hard as Valyrian steel, 'not to do anything foolish, Aerys. Do not force me to choose between my loyalty to you or my family's legacy.'
