Tywin was dead.
At first, the people of King's Landing—both commoners and nobles—dismissed the news as just another rumor fabricated by someone who hated the Lannisters. But when the Great Sept of Baelor tolled the bell reserved only for the death of a Hand of the King, everyone realized it wasn't a rumor after all. The old lion of the Westerlands, Tywin, was truly dead.
For the nobles of this era, Tywin had been an unshakable mountain looming over them all—at least until Lynd appeared. It took the combined strength of the Riverlands, the North, and the Vale just to withstand his influence. The mere mention of the "Rains of Castamere" inspired dread.
To the people of King's Landing, their feelings about Tywin were complicated. During his time as advisor to the Mad King, the city had experienced unprecedented prosperity. Many citizens had benefitted from his policies, and Tywin's prestige had even surpassed that of the Mad King himself. That was why the Mad King had viewed him with such caution.
But those same people also hated Tywin. The army he commanded from the Westerlands had once laid waste to the capital—burning, looting, killing without restraint. Countless civilians had suffered because of that war. Their hatred for Tywin had taken root deep in their bones.
So once his death was confirmed, cheers erupted across the city. Some went as far as renting out entire taverns, offering free drinks for a whole day to "mourn" Lord Tywin—though everyone knew what was really being celebrated.
Not long after, more sordid details leaked from the Red Keep. Word was that Tywin had died on the toilet, alongside Shae—the prostitute who had once accused Tyrion during his trial and had also been his lover. And most shocking of all: they had both been killed by Tyrion himself, the so-called little devil.
Very quickly, gossipmongers began to spin their own version of events into a scandalous tale. Some speculated that Tywin had only ever opposed Tyrion because he'd taken a liking to Tyrion's woman and wanted her for himself. Wanting to save face, he had conspired to have Tyrion convicted and sent to the Wall.
In just one day, songs about the affair were being sung in taverns and brothels. Tywin Lannister's reputation was in ruins.
Still, not everyone was interested in the gossip. Many were far more concerned about the current situation in the Red Keep. With the Hand of the King dead and no ruler yet crowned, the political future was uncertain. Those desperate for information tried bribing Red Keep servants and guards to get news before anyone else.
"Lord Garlan, are you really going to let these slanders about my father continue to spread unchecked?" Jaime, having just seen to Tywin's body, strode into the council chamber in the Tower of the Hand and immediately turned on Garlan Tyrell with accusation in his voice.
Garlan, seated among the spectators, gestured for Jaime to calm down before responding formally, "We've already arrested seventeen people who were deliberately spreading the rumors, and more than twenty singers who were passing them along in taverns have also been taken in. But these rumors are spreading too fast to contain. Even if we arrested everyone in King's Landing, it wouldn't be enough. Lord Jaime, please understand—we've done all we can."
Jaime sighed. He knew Garlan wasn't to blame; the rumors were simply too poisonous. They had all but destroyed House Lannister's name.
In truth, he still couldn't come to terms with Tywin's death—especially not the manner of it. He had seen the woman's lifeless body on the bed, and he had seen his father lying dead on the toilet with a crossbow bolt in him. When he learned that both Varys and Tyrion had vanished, the explanation that came to mind matched almost exactly what the rumors were saying.
Now, with this scandal dragging the Lannisters through the mud, it was an inauspicious beginning for him as the next Lord of Casterly Rock. He could already imagine the mockery that awaited him from the Westerlands' lesser lords. Without Tywin's authority to back him, would he even be able to keep their ambitions in check?
"Should we issue a warrant for Tyrion Lannister?" asked Catelyn Tully, speaking for the first time at a Small Council meeting without a prompt from Roose Bolton.
At that moment, Catelyn Tully was delighted. Watching her enemies fall one after another—and in such ironic ways—filled her with an uncontainable joy. She couldn't stop herself from smiling.
The other Wardens around her couldn't help but glance at her, silently criticizing her for smiling so openly, as though she couldn't wait for Jaime to realize how pleased she was about Lord Tywin's death. There was nothing noble in her expression, and even her daughter, Sansa Stark, sensed something off.
"Ahem!" Lord Mace coughed twice on purpose to break the awkward silence in the room, then quickly brought the discussion back on track. "Tyrion must be brought to justice, no doubt. But how do we proceed? Should the Westerlands issue the warrant alone, or should all Seven Kingdoms issue one together?"
Jaime wanted to limit the manhunt to the Westerlands. He understood the pain Tyrion carried, and deep down, he felt a lingering guilt toward his brother. But he also knew that, given what Tyrion had done, a Westerlands-only warrant was out of the question.
"Of course—a warrant should be issued across all Seven Kingdoms," Lord Mace declared without hesitation.
"In that case, we'll need both the royal seal and the Hand's," said the Red Viper, his voice low and steady. "But we haven't even chosen a king yet, let alone a Hand."
"I nominate Tommen Baratheon as king," Jaime said without pause. "Tommen is the only heir of House Baratheon. He should inherit the Baratheon—"
"Lord Jaime, Tommen is hardly the only heir to House Baratheon. Let's not even bring up Princess Myrcella, who is far away," Roose Bolton interjected, gesturing toward Shireen, who was seated at the table, her chin just level with the surface. "The young lady sitting right here, Princess Shireen, is the rightful heir to House Baratheon."
"We're talking about the Iron Throne..." Jaime started to argue, but just then, Cersei entered the council chamber, dressed in the robes of a septa, with Tommen at her side, cutting him off mid-sentence.
Cersei scanned the room, then gave a polite nod and said, "I assume this meeting concerns the succession of the Iron Throne. As Regent Queen and with Prince Tommen present, I believe we have a right to be part of this discussion."
"Of course," everyone replied with nods of acknowledgment.
Cersei led Tommen to where Lord Tywin once sat at the head of the table. But instead of taking that seat, she had two additional chairs brought in and placed to either side behind it.
Seeing how she arranged the seating, the others gave subtle nods of approval—everyone except Jaime, who looked slightly puzzled.
"Now we..." Lord Mace began, ready to return to the topic of succession.
But Cersei interrupted. "Please wait, Lord Mace. Prince Lynd has yet to arrive. It would be better to resume once he's here."
Lord Mace nodded in agreement. "Yes, of course. We'll continue when he arrives."
...
About ten minutes later, Lynd entered from outside. He surveyed the room, noted the seating, and walked straight to the high seat once occupied by Tywin. Sitting down, he addressed the group.
"Apologies for the delay. I was busy preparing Lord Tywin's body." He turned to Jaime and added, "I've sealed his body in ice. When you return to Casterly Rock for the burial, he'll be preserved exactly as he is now."
"Thank you, Lord Lynd," Jaime said with sincere gratitude.
Lynd gave a nod, then looked around the room. "Where were you in the discussion?"
Lord Mace answered, "Regarding the pursuit of Tyrion and Varys—we're all in agreement that a kingdom-wide warrant should be issued. But to do that, we need the royal seal and the Hand's. So the issue of who should rule the Iron Throne is still being debated."
"There's no need to keep debating," Lynd said, scanning the room. "Everyone here holds the highest authority in their respective kingdoms. Whoever we back as king—no one else will dare oppose."
The others nodded one by one.
Just as the Red Viper prepared to speak and put Lynd's name forward, Cersei suddenly rose from her seat.
"Tommen and I believe that with the current unrest across the Seven Kingdoms, the Iron Throne must be held by a strong and capable leader—someone who can prevent another descent into war. For that reason, both Tommen and I believe the only suitable candidate is the one chosen by the Seven, the Prince of Summerhall, the Stone Steps, and the Narrow Sea—Lynd Tarran."
The Red Viper immediately echoed her. "On behalf of Prince Doran Martell, Warden of Dorne, I second the motion."
Lord Mace followed swiftly. "I, Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the Reach, second the motion as well."
Catelyn Tully, Sansa Stark, and Shireen Baratheon all added their support to Cersei's proposal.
At last, all eyes turned to Jaime.
Jaime was completely stunned. He looked around at everyone present, unable to understand how a discussion that was supposed to be about choosing between Myrcella and Tommen as the next monarch had suddenly turned into unanimous support for Lynd to claim the Iron Throne.
Still, even with his limited understanding of politics, it was clear to him that this had all been carefully orchestrated in advance.
And most importantly, even if he wanted to push for Tommen to become king, there was nothing he could do—Tommen had renounced the throne himself. Jaime was powerless.
In the end, he had no choice but to go along with the others. "On behalf of the Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, I second the motion."
"That just leaves the Vale," Lord Mace said solemnly.
"There's no need," Lynd replied firmly. "Just send an official proclamation to notify the Vale." As he spoke, he rose from his seat, looked around the room, and said, "Since you have all chosen me as ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, I won't let you down. I will do everything I can to maintain stability across the realm, and ensure your lands continue to prosper and flourish. I ask for your loyal support in governing this vast kingdom."
"We obey, Your Grace," everyone responded in unison.
"Good. Enough with the formalities—let's move on to today's agenda." Lynd pulled out a document and handed it to Lord Mace. "Please read through this, and then we'll discuss how to respond."
Lord Mace looked down at the pages and saw they concerned a battle between the Night's Watch and the wildling tribes beyond the Wall. He frowned in confusion.
"Shouldn't we be discussing Your Grace's coronation ceremony instead?"
"There's no need," Lynd replied, shaking his head. "A simple announcement to the Seven Kingdoms will suffice. Keep everything minimal—every copper coin must be used wisely." Then, he motioned to Lord Mace. "Please finish reading quickly. Others still need to review it."
At that, Lord Mace said no more and turned his attention back to the document.
Around the room, the others exchanged glances. It was becoming clear that Lynd was nothing like the kings they'd known before. If they didn't adapt, it was uncertain whether they'd even have a seat at the table in the future.
...
If Tywin Lannister being killed by his own son Tyrion had been a scandal that shook the Seven Kingdoms, then the peaceful shift of power on the Iron Throne—from the Baratheon dynasty to the Tarran dynasty—was nothing short of a political earthquake. It was no exaggeration to say that everyone who heard the news reacted with disbelief, immediately accusing the speaker of spreading lies.
But it wasn't because they believed Lynd was unfit to rule. On the contrary—most people in Westeros knew full well that claiming the Iron Throne would be effortless for him. Lynd's power was nearly divine, and his three dragons alone were enough to conquer the Seven Kingdoms.
And that wasn't all. Rumors had long since spread across Westeros that Queen Nymeria of the Kingdom of Lorne—Lynd's wife—also possessed dragons. Not one or two, but five. Though still young, the dragons were already powerful enough to aid Nymeria in her conquest of the Free Cities across the continent of Essos.
Because of this overwhelming power, there had always been speculation among the common folk that Lynd would one day take the Iron Throne and become ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. So his ascension wasn't exactly a shock.
What truly surprised people—and made many think it had to be a fabrication—was how calmly the entire transition unfolded. Lynd's coronation had none of the violence or upheaval that typically marked a change of dynasty. Instead, it felt more like he was announcing something trivial rather than declaring himself king.
After all, every prior regime change in Westeros had sparked wars of one kind or another. But when Lynd took the throne and established the Tarran dynasty, the noble houses barely reacted. They simply hung banners bearing the long sword sigil of House Tarran, as instructed by their new king.