Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 53: The Lioness

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Joanna POV

Inside a spacious, luxurious room of Casterly Rock, I sat on a comfortable golden-red couch. With my right hand, I held a teacup, and in my left, a small plate to rest the hot porcelain. 

I took a sip as I glanced at my sister-in-law, Genna. She sat beside me, her ever-present smile softening her round face. 

A tray of desserts lay between us on the table, untouched save for the faint crumbs from earlier indulgence.

A couple meters away from us, my two golden cubs played with each other. My golden-haired daughter, Cersei, was crouched on the floor, her delicate hands playing a game of peek-a-boo with my baby boy, Tyrion.

Tyrion responded with laughter, high and joyous, his chubby hands clapping with each reveal of Cersei's face. 

My lips curved upward at the sight. For all her youthful fire, Cersei had a tender way with Tyrion.

"Aww, they're so cute, aren't they?" Genna remarked with a warm smile, her green eyes fixed on the siblings.

I turned to her, returning her smile with a slight nod.

"Yes, they are…" I began, pausing briefly as my gaze lingered on the pair.

"Cersei is such a great older sister, isn't she?" I added with a playful tone. 

"Though I admit, I'm a little jealous she might steal my spot as Tyrion's favorite." I japed.

Genna chuckled, her laugh as rich as the setting. "If that's your biggest worry, Joanna, I'd say you're doing just fine as a mother."

Hearing her compliment, I nodded and smiled, the warmth of her words lingering in my chest.

As I enjoyed the peaceful moment, Genna shifted the conversation. Her tone was light, but there was a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes as she broached the subject of her son, Lyonel.

She expressed her thanks for the match I had arranged for him. "You've done so much for Lyonel," she said earnestly. "I don't know how to repay you for securing such a good betrothal."

I waved her words away with a faint smile. "We're family, Genna. It was the least I could do."

The betrothal she mentioned had been for her second son, Lyonel. It was I who had orchestrated the arrangement, securing a match between him and the daughter of Lord Crakehall. It was a good match, one that would benefit both families.

"I only hope," I added, "that their union proves as fruitful as we've planned."

Genna nodded thoughtfully before steering the conversation toward my own children. 

"Speaking further on marriages, have you thought of any betrothal for Cersei and Jaime?" Genna asked.

The question gave me pause. I glanced toward Cersei, who was still playing with Tyrion, her golden hair glinting in the afternoon sun. Then my thoughts turned to Jaime, with his boundless energy and unshakable confidence.

For Cersei, Tywin had already made his intentions clear. From our conversations through letters, it seemed that her future was not open for debate. The prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, was the only target in my husband's eyes.

Jaime, however, was a different matter. My mind drifted to the Tullys, specifically to Catelyn, the eldest daughter of Hoster Tully. Mina Tully's daughter would make a strong match for him—one that could forge an alliance that would benefit our house.

But even as these thoughts formed, my heart hesitated. "No, they are quite young," I replied, deflecting the truth from my words. 

"I'll wait until they come of age. I want their opinions." It wasn't entirely a lie, though Tywin and I both had ambitions for our children. Yet my hopes went beyond alliances and power. 

For Cersei, especially, I wished for more than what my husband had planned. I didn't want her to chase after a prince she didn't love, to be bound by a crown she might resent.

I didn't want her to become like me—a woman once forced to chase a prince I did not love. A soft sigh escaped me as I sipped my tea, the lavender scent failing to soothe the unease in my chest. 

My hopes for my children were simple—happiness and the ability to choose, though I knew such things were scarce in a world like ours.

Genna gave me a knowing nod, and we let the conversation drift into more trivial matters, the weight of our thoughts momentarily forgotten.

It wasn't long before I saw Cersei scoop Tyrion up effortlessly into her arms. She walked toward me and Genna, her green eyes sparkling with affection as she teased her brother.

"Tyrion, you're getting a little heavy. No more sweets for you," Cersei said, pinching his chubby cheeks.

"Sweet!" Tyrion exclaimed, his smile wide and his voice filled with pure joy, not understanding his sister's words.

Cersei merely smiled and chuckled at Tyrion's response.

"You're too doting on him," I remarked lightly, setting my cup down gently onto its saucer. "He'll grow impossible if you keep letting him have his way," I joked.

Cersei turned to me, her eyes alight with a mischievous glint. "He's a lion, Mother. Lions don't need taming," she defended her brother.

"Perhaps not," I said, arching an eyebrow. "But even lion cubs listen to their mothers," I responded with a playful smile.

Cersei tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. "If so, then can you take him from me?" Her voice was sweet, but there was an underlying impatience as she extended Tyrion toward me.

At that moment, Tyrion hung limply in her arms, only held by the armpits. My innocent little boy seemed uncomfortable, wiggling his short legs, clearly not pleased with being held in such a way.

I smirked, crossing my arms together. "And why is that? He seems perfectly content with you." Though I said this, the urge to scoop him up and shower his chubby cheeks with kisses tugged at my heart.

"I want to head to the training yard and spar with Jaime," she admitted, her voice tinged with a note of exasperation. "Tyrion always cries when I take him along."

I couldn't help but laugh softly at her reasoning. "Alright, give him here," I said, stretching my arms out to her.

Cersei's face brightened with relief as she handed him over carefully. Tyrion's small hands clung to her sleeve, clearly reluctant to let go. But I murmured soft words of comfort as he settled into my arms, his little body warm against me.

"Thanks, Mom," Cersei said quickly, her voice full of gratitude, before she darted toward the door, eager to escape to the training yard.

Genna's voice followed her, teasing and light. "The training yard again? You've got a fierce lioness on your hands, Joanna."

I sighed softly, a fond smile playing on my lips. 

"Ever since I allowed her to freely spar in the training yard, she's been determined. She's working hard at her etiquette and sewing as well, though," I revealed to Genna the arrangement I'd made with my daughter. Cersei could train with Jaime, but only if she didn't cause trouble with the septas or her tutors.

"I heard from Lyonel that she's quite good, even beating some of the older boys. Is that true?" Genna asked, her curiosity piqued, trying to understand why I'd agreed to let my daughter train in swordsmanship, a skill not typically befitting a lady.

I nodded, pride welling up inside me. "If she couldn't hold her own in the training, I wouldn't have allowed it," I said with a smile.

It was true—Cersei had bested Jaime in their sparring matches more than once. Each time, with a wooden sword in hand, my little lioness seemed to come out on top, and I couldn't help but marvel at her fierce determination.

I'd heard from the master-at-arms how much of a prodigy Jaime was, yet to see Cersei defeat him was a revelation. There was something extraordinary in her.

Genna's eyes widened in surprise at my words. "Does Tywin know about Cersei training with the sword?" she asked, her surprise clear in her voice.

I nodded. "Yes, though it took a lot of convincing," I said with a sigh.

"Well, that's fantastic then," Genna said with a smile. "She'll be like Nymeria from the old tales. If what you say—and what I hear—is true, she might become more than just a lady."

We both shared a smile, the weight of our conversation momentarily forgotten in the warmth of that shared understanding.

Moments later, Tyrion tugged at the hem of my dress, his small voice soft yet persistent. "Mama," he said, pointing eagerly to the tray of macarons. "Eat."

"Are you hungry, my little lion?" I asked, brushing his curls gently back from his forehead, my heart melting at his innocence.

He nodded eagerly, his green eyes wide with excitement. 

Smiling, I plucked a macaron from the tray and held it out to him. "Only because you're so charming," I teased, and his delighted smile, as he bit into the treat, was the perfect end to a quiet, loving moment.

…

Author note: Expect another chapter later today.