I wanted to prompt a thing. I know you don't take prompts right now, but I will forget otherwise. If you ever have time, would you consider writing Tywin's and Aerys's reactions when they receive news of Steffon's death?
It had been years since Tywin had spent a thought of Steffon, a casualty of distance more than anything else. They’d been friends as
boys, Tywin the eldest, Steffon the youngest, one far more likely than the
other to laugh. It hadn’t been an
unpleasant balance, but time is enemy to that which seems pleasant in boyhood.
“Aerys doesn’t mean
it,”he remembers Steffon
saying. “He just doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes. He’s always been that way.”
“This isn’t making the
Dornish deserts bloom, Steffon. This is
Steffon had never liked strife. He had insisted upon harmony. He’d blinded himself to truths too hard to
stomach, rather than routing them at the root.
Easier to say that it was unthinking Aerys, whose antics had caused so
much mirth in their boyhood, than to admit that the man was a fool, a
“It is the privilege
of your friendship that allows him to speak thusly, Tywin.”
“He insults my wife
out of love of me? Is that what you are
“Merely that he has
confidence in your love of him.”
Tywin Lannister never suffers fools, even fools he’d once
been fond of. He takes joy in removing
them from his presence, of reminding them that he was the Lion and not to be
presumed upon, not even by kings.
Steffon Baratheon grew from a boy into a fool, hiding behind laughter
and warm memories, and with what purpose?
What had he gained from it? The
king’s trust—which he’d already had—and what else? He’d been a more promising boy than man.
Tywin Lannister reads the letter, written in a maester’s
neat hand, that his friend and the hand of the king died in his own bay, leaving
behind three small boys. He reads that
word again, a small one only six letters, and remembers Steffon’s laugh, but finds
he feels nothing at all.
Tywin did this to him.
He knows it. It’s always
Tywin. Tywin gets the credit, Tywin and
not the king he serves. Served. Tywin doesn’t serve him anymore. And nor does Steffon.
Steffon would have helped him. Steffon understood him, understood that Tywin
wanted all of Aerys’ glory, all of his power.
Steffon would have protected him, even from Rhaegar who grew less biddable
the older he grew. Steffon would have
known what to do. Everyone liked Steffon. Everyone trusted Steffon. Tywin had kept them from liking or trusting
The winds killed him.
The winds. He’s no fool. The winds didn’t kill him, no more than the
walls of Duskendale had held him. Men do
things, not stones or winds. And the
only man who stood to benefit from Steffon’s death was Tywin. Tywin, who betrayed friends left and right
for his own gain, Tywin who Varys whispered was plotting even now, insulted
that Aerys had refused to wed his son to Tywin’s daughter. As if it was his right he’d asked it. As if it was his reward. Friendship knows no reward. Steffon had understood that even when Tywin
hadn’t. And Tywin took his own reward
for good service. He wouldn’t get
Rhaegar. He couldn’t get Rhaegar.
So he’d taken Steffon.
He’d taken Steffon. He’d taken,
greedy lying lion that he is.
Hey Turtle! Could you explain why Aerys called for Robert's head as well as Ned's after he'd murdered Rickard and Brandon? Is it as simple as Lyanna being betrothed to him? I don't remember clearly but I sort of got the impression that Aerys was rather fond of his Baratheon cousin Steffon. Thanks.
Sheer paranoia. Lyanna’s brother called for Rhaegar’s head -> Lyanna’s other brother and her betrothed are probably also plotting against Rhaegar! How dare they! Off with their heads!