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One Month Later - Adrian Lannister (5 Years old, and 6 Months) - 288 AC
Adrian was supposed to be heading to his lessons with Maester Creylen, but the long corridors of Casterly Rock were full of interesting hiding places where a small boy could get distracted. His favorite was behind the big tapestry of Great-Grandfather Gerold slaying the Toothless Lion. Nobody ever looked there.
Today, two serving women were folding linens in the alcove near his hiding spot. Adrian was about to run past them when he heard his name.
"—young Lord Adrian's new chambers being prepared in the east wing," one woman was saying.
"The heir's chambers, you mean," the other replied. "Lord Tywin makes no secret of his plans for the boy."
"Strange, though, isn't it? With Lord Jaime and Lord Tyrion both alive."
"Lord Jaime forsook his inheritance when he took the white cloak. And Lord Tyrion... well..." The woman's voice dropped to a whisper. "Lord Tywin would sooner name his horse heir than his dwarf son."
They both laughed, and Adrian frowned. That wasn't a nice thing to say about Tyrion. Tyrion was the smartest person in the whole castle.
"Shh! The little lord could be anywhere," the first woman cautioned, suddenly glancing around.
Adrian ducked deeper behind the tapestry. They were talking about him, calling him "heir" like it was something special. He knew what an heir was—it was the person who got everything when their father died.
When the women moved on, Adrian slipped out and continued on his way, thinking hard. If he was the heir to Casterly Rock, that meant someday all of this would be his—the castle, the gold mines, the lions on the banners. The thought made his tummy feel fluttery.
Later that afternoon, a servant came to the library where Adrian was studying with Maester Creylen.
"Lord Tywin requests Lord Adrian's presence in his solar," the servant announced with a bow.
Maester Creylen nodded. "We were just finishing. Mind your manners, Lord Adrian."
Adrian followed the servant through the familiar winding corridors to Father's solar. He always felt a little nervous going there, like his stomach was full of jumping frogs. Father was so big and serious and important, and his solar was where important things happened.
The room was large but severe, with few decorations aside from the mounted lion's head above the hearth. Father sat behind his massive desk, writing in his ledger. He didn't look up when Adrian entered.
Adrian stood silently, back straight, hands clasped behind him like he'd been taught. Waiting to be acknowledged was part of respect, Father always said.
After what felt like forever, Father set down his quill and looked up. "Adrian. Sit."
Adrian climbed into the chair across from Father's desk, his feet dangling well above the floor. The chair was made for grown men, not five-year-olds.
"Do you know why you're here?" Father asked.
Adrian thought about the servants' conversation. "Is it about me being your heir?"
"Indeed," Father said after a moment. "You're old enough now to understand what that means."
Adrian swung his legs slightly, then remembered himself and stopped. "It means Casterly Rock will be mine someday. And all the gold."
"It means far more than ownership," Father's voice sharpened. "Being heir to House Lannister carries responsibilities that you must begin to understand."
Adrian nodded solemnly, though he wasn't sure what "responsibilities" meant exactly. It sounded like chores but bigger.
"But," Adrian said hesitantly, "what about Jaime? Or Tyrion? They're your sons too, and they're older." Adrian had never called Jaime by 'brother,' he had never met him, and all he knew about him was what Tyrion had told him.
Father's expression hardened into the cold look that made Adrian want to shrink into his chair.
"Your brother Jaime chose to join the Kingsguard. He swore an oath that prevents him from inheriting lands or titles." Father's tone made it clear what he thought of this decision. "As for Tyrion..."
Father paused, and something dark passed across his face.
"Tyrion will not be Lord of Casterly Rock. That is my decision."
Because he's small? Adrian wondered, but knew better than to ask.
"That leaves you," Father continued. "You will be trained in all the duties of a lord from this day forward. You will attend council meetings when I deem appropriate. You will learn how House Lannister maintains its position."
Adrian felt a warm glow of pride, but also a fluttery nervousness. It sounded like a lot to learn.
"Do you understand what I'm telling you, Adrian?" Father asked, his green-gold eyes locked onto Adrian's.
"Yes, Father," Adrian replied, sitting as tall as he could in the big chair. "I'm going to be Lord of Casterly Rock someday."
"And what does that mean?"
Adrian thought hard about all he'd learned about being a Lannister. "It means I must be strong and smart. It means I must make sure everyone respects House Lannister."
Father nodded slightly. "And how does a lord ensure respect?"
Adrian remembered the story Father had told him about the Reynes of Castamere. It had given him nightmares, but he knew it was an important lesson.
"Sometimes... through fear," Adrian answered carefully.
"Fear is one tool," Father acknowledged. "What else?"
Adrian wasn't sure what the right answer was. He thought about the different lords who visited Casterly Rock. "Gold? Everyone always talks about Lannister gold."
"Gold buys loyalty, not respect," Father corrected. "A lord earns respect through strength, wisdom, and decisiveness. A lord who cannot decide is no lord at all."
Adrian nodded, though he didn't fully understand. Decisiveness sounded like another big-person word he'd have to learn.
"From now on," Father continued, "you will take your meals at the high table beside me, not with your nurses or tutors. When lords visit, you will attend. When matters of governance are discussed, you will listen and learn."
Adrian felt both excited and scared. Sitting at the high table meant being on display, having to remember all his manners perfectly.
"What if I make mistakes?" The question slipped out before Adrian could stop it.
Father's expression didn't change. "You will make mistakes. What matters is that you learn from them quickly and never repeat them."
He stood and moved to the window, looking out over the Sunset Sea. "Being Lord of Casterly Rock means carrying the legacy of every Lannister who came before you. It means ensuring our house remains the wealthiest and most powerful in the Seven Kingdoms."
Adrian slid down from his chair and went to stand beside Father at the window. From here, you could see all the way to Lannisport on a clear day, and today the sun made the sea glitter like Father's gold coins.
"When will I be lord?" Adrian asked.
"When I am dead," Father replied bluntly. "And that will not be for many years. You have much to learn before then."
Adrian tried to imagine Father being dead and couldn't. Father seemed as permanent as Casterly Rock itself.
"Now," Father said, turning from the window, "tell me the names of our principal bannermen."
Adrian stood up straight, recognizing that the real lesson was beginning. "House Marbrand of Ashemark. House Crakehall. House Lefford of the Golden Tooth. House Brax of Hornvale..." He continued listing all the houses sworn to Casterly Rock.
Father listened, his face revealing nothing. When Adrian finished, he nodded once.
"Good. And what are the primary exports of the Westerlands?"
"Gold and silver from our mines," Adrian answered promptly. "Fine wool from the hills. Wine from the southern regions, though not as famous as the Arbor."
"And what is our greatest strength as a house?"
Adrian thought about the lessons he'd learned. "Our gold?"
"Our unity," Father corrected. "The strength of House Lannister comes from acting as one. A house divided is vulnerable, regardless of its wealth."
Adrian nodded seriously, committing this to memory like all of Father's lessons.
"You may go," Father said finally. "Remember what I've told you. From today forward, you are not just my son, but the heir to Casterly Rock. Conduct yourself accordingly."
"Yes, Father," Adrian replied, bowing properly before leaving the solar.
As he walked back to his chambers, Adrian felt taller somehow, more important. The servants he passed bowed deeper than before, or perhaps he was just noticing it now.
I'm going to be Lord of Casterly Rock someday, he thought. It was both the most exciting and the scariest thing he could imagine.
A small part of him wished he could tell his mother about it, whoever she was. Would she be proud? But that was a thought he knew to keep to himself. Father never spoke of his mother, and so neither did Adrian.
Instead, he straightened his shoulders and tried to walk the way Father did—like a lion among lesser beasts—all the way back to his chambers.
Tomorrow
The training yard was Adrian's least favorite place in all of Casterly Rock. After months of practice, his wooden sword still felt too heavy, and his arms still got tired too fast. It wasn't fair. His brain learned things quick as lightning, but his arms and legs were stubborn and slow.
Today was different, though. Uncle Tygett was waiting in the yard instead of Ser Willem. Uncle Tygett was Father's brother, and he was the opposite of Father, while his father only talked when necessary, Uncle Tygett loved talking, especially about grown-up stuff.
"There he is," Uncle Tygett called as Adrian approached. "The future Lord of Casterly Rock himself."
Adrian wasn't sure if Uncle Tygett was making fun of him or not. Grown-ups were confusing that way sometimes.
"Good morning, Uncle Tygett," Adrian said politely, bowing like he'd been taught.
Uncle Tygett snorted. "Save the courtesies for the ladies, boy. This is the training yard. Here, the only thing that matters is steel and skill." He looked Adrian up and down. "Though in your case, it's wood and will for now."
The other boys training nearby snickered. There were five of them, all older and bigger than Adrian. One was Lyonel Marbrand, whose father was visiting. Another was Lancel Lannister, a cousin. The others were sons of knights and important servants.
"Lancel tells me you lack strength," Uncle Tygett said bluntly. "No surprise there. You've got the build of a reed, not an oak."
Adrian felt his face get hot. "I'm trying to get stronger."
"Trying won't change what the gods gave you," Uncle Tygett replied. "You can build muscle, yes, but some men are made to be bulls, and others to be foxes. The trick is knowing which you are."
Adrian frowned, confused. "I'm not a bull or a fox. I'm a lion."
The boys laughed again, but Uncle Tygett's mouth twitched in what might have been a smile.
"A small lion, then. For now." He drew his own training sword, a longer wooden weapon. "Show me your stance."
Adrian took position, holding his wooden sword the way Ser Willem had taught him. Uncle Tygett circled him slowly.
"Too rigid," he said, tapping Adrian's shoulder with his sword. "You're trying to be a stone when you should be water."
"Water?" Adrian wrinkled his nose. "Water doesn't fight."
"Doesn't it? Water cuts through mountains given enough time. Water flows around obstacles it cannot overcome." Uncle Tygett moved suddenly, swinging his sword in a swift arc.
Adrian flinched, trying to raise his sword to block, but he was too slow. Uncle Tygett stopped the blow before it landed.
"Dead," Uncle Tygett declared. "If that had been steel, you'd be meeting the Stranger."
But you're so much bigger and faster than me, Adrian thought grumpily. That's not fair. But he knew better than to say it aloud. Lannisters didn't complain.
"Good thing it's not steel then," Adrian said instead, looking up at his towering uncle. "The Stranger would get tired of meeting so many Lannister children if you trained all of us."
"A sharp tongue won't save you from a sharp blade," he replied, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "Again. But this time, don't try to block. Move."
Adrian took his stance again. This time when Uncle Tygett swung, Adrian jumped back. The wooden sword whistled through empty air.
"Again," Uncle Tygett commanded, immediately lunging forward with a different angle of attack.
Adrian skipped to the side, the sword missing him by a finger's width.
"Better," Uncle Tygett nodded. "But in battle, your enemy won't stop after one strike." Without warning, he spun around, swinging low toward Adrian's legs.
Adrian yelped and jumped over the blade like it was a skipping rope. Several of the watching boys laughed, but Uncle Tygett's eyes narrowed with interest.
"Good instinct," he said. "Now defend against this."
Uncle Tygett began a series of attacks—high, low, right, left—each coming faster than the last. Adrian's body seemed to know what to do before his mind did. He twisted, ducked, sidestepped, and spun away from each strike, his small size allowing him to change direction more quickly than larger boys could.
After several exchanges, Adrian was breathing hard, but a grin had spread across his face. This was almost fun—like a game of tag with swords.
"You move well for your age," Uncle Tygett admitted, finally stopping his barrage. "Your feet are quick and your eyes are quicker."
Adrian blinked in surprise. That was almost a compliment.
"Ser Willem had you training like you're built like your brother Jaime," Uncle Tygett continued. "But you're not. You're smaller, lighter. Like your other brother, though gods willing with better coordination than that waddling imp."
Adrian frowned. He didn't like it when people talked meanly about Tyrion. But before he could think of what to say, Uncle Tygett was moving again, demonstrating a different kind of stance.
"Watch," he commanded. "A smaller fighter can't meet strength with strength. But he can use speed, precision, and surprise."
Uncle Tygett called over Lyonel Marbrand, who was three years older and a whole head taller than Adrian.
"Attack me as if you mean it, boy," Uncle Tygett told Lyonel.
Lyonel charged forward with his training sword raised high. Instead of meeting the attack head-on, Uncle Tygett sidestepped, letting Lyonel's momentum carry him past, then lightly tapped the boy's back with his wooden sword.
"Dead," Uncle Tygett announced. "See, Adrian? I didn't try to stop his blow. I simply wasn't there when it fell."
Adrian nodded, his eyes wide. He'd never seen anyone fight like that before. It was like a dance.
"Your turn," Uncle Tygett said. "Lyonel, attack Adrian. Adrian, don't try to block. Move."
Adrian's heart thumped so hard he thought it might jump out of his chest. Lyonel was so much bigger.
Lyonel charged, looking like a bull Adrian had once seen at a fair. Adrian forgot everything except Uncle Tygett's words: Move. As Lyonel's sword came down, Adrian darted to the side, just like Uncle Tygett had done.
Lyonel's sword hit empty air, and he stumbled forward from his own momentum. Adrian's body seemed to know what to do without him thinking. He pivoted and tapped Lyonel lightly on the back with his wooden sword.
"Dead!" Uncle Tygett called out, sounding almost pleased.
Adrian stood frozen, not quite believing what had just happened. He'd done it! He'd actually hit someone during training, for the first time ever!
"I did it," he whispered, then louder, "I did it!"
"Don't celebrate yet," Uncle Tygett warned. "Once isn't skill; it's luck. Do it again."
They practiced the same movement over and over. Sometimes Adrian was too slow and got hit. But more often than not, he managed to dodge and land his own tap. With each success, he felt a bubble of pride grow in his chest.
"The boy's quick as a shadow," one of the watching knights commented.
"Aye, never seen a child that age move so fast," another agreed.
By the end of the session, Adrian was tired but not in the same way as usual. Instead of aching arms from trying to swing a too-heavy sword, his legs felt wobbly from all the darting and spinning.
"You'll never be the strongest," Uncle Tygett told him as they finished. "But you might be the fastest if you work at it. Speed can kill as surely as strength."
Adrian nodded eagerly. "Can we practice again tomorrow?"
"Every day while I'm here," Uncle Tygett confirmed. "Might make a fighter of you yet."
As they were putting away the training swords, Adrian noticed Father standing on the balcony overlooking the yard. He'd been watching. For how long, Adrian wasn't sure.
"Father was watching," Adrian said to Uncle Tygett.
Uncle Tygett glanced up briefly. "Tywin always watches. Remember that lesson too, nephew."
Adrian looked up again, but Father was already gone. Had he been pleased? It was always so hard to tell with Father.
But Adrian felt pleased with himself, and that was something new in the training yard. For the first time, he didn't dread returning tomorrow. He had found something he might actually be good at.
"Swift as a shadow," he whispered to himself, liking the sound of it. It was much better than being strong as a bull anyway. Bulls were stupid and smelly.
As he left the yard, Adrian tried to walk quietly, pretending he was a shadow himself. The guards at the door didn't notice him until he was right beside them.
"Seven hells, boy!" one exclaimed. "Where did you come from?"
Adrian just smiled. Maybe being small wasn't so bad after all, if it meant he could be quick and quiet and surprising.
Tomorrow, he would be even better. Tomorrow, maybe even Father would be surprised.
One Month Later
Adrian had been watching from the window of his chambers for three whole days. Uncle Gerion was coming home! The servants said he'd been spotted on the Gold Road with a small party, and Adrian couldn't wait to see what treasures and stories his favorite uncle would bring this time.
On the fourth morning, Adrian was breaking his fast with Tyrion in the small dining hall when they heard the horns announcing visitors at the Lion's Mouth.
"He's here!" Adrian jumped up, his porridge forgotten. "Uncle Gerion is here!"
Tyrion smiled, marking his place in the book he'd been reading. "I suppose we should go welcome our wandering lion home."
Adrian was already running for the door. "Last one to the courtyard is a smelly old septon!"
By the time Tyrion's shorter legs carried him to the courtyard, Adrian was already at the front of the small crowd gathering to welcome Gerion Lannister home. Father stood on the steps with Uncle Kevan, both looking stiff and proper. Aunt Genna was there too, and Uncle Tygett, who'd been at Casterly Rock for a month now.
"Look how many people came to see Uncle Gerion," Adrian told Tyrion excitedly when his brother reached him. "Everyone likes him best."
"Don't let Father hear you say that," Tyrion murmured, but he was smiling too.
The gates opened, and Gerion rode in at the head of a small column. He looked just like Adrian remembered—golden-haired and laughing, his clothes colorful and foreign. But there was something different this time. Seated before him on his saddle was a small figure—a little girl with golden curls.
"Who's that?" Adrian asked, standing on tiptoes to see better.
Tyrion's expression changed to something Adrian couldn't read. "That would be Joy, I believe. Gerion's natural daughter."
"His what?"
But Tyrion didn't get to answer because Uncle Gerion was dismounting, lifting the little girl down gently before striding forward to greet Father.
"Brother!" Uncle Gerion called out with his big smile. "The prodigal son returns, yet again!"
Father didn't smile back. "You're later than your last message indicated."
"The roads were wet, the company delightful, and the Arbor gold too tempting to rush," Uncle Gerion replied cheerfully. He turned to the little girl, who clung to his hand, half-hiding behind his leg. "Come, Joy. Meet your family."
The girl—Joy—couldn't have been more than four. She had the Lannister golden hair and green eyes, but her skin was darker, like she'd spent her life in the sun. She wore a pretty blue dress that looked new but simple compared to the fine clothes Adrian wore every day.
Father looked at the child with cold eyes. "So you've finally brought her."
"As I said I would," Uncle Gerion replied, his smile dimming slightly. "Joy, this is your uncle, Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock."
Joy made a wobbly curtsy. "H-hello, my lord."
Father gave a curt nod but said nothing to the child. Adrian thought that was rude. Even Father usually said hello when he met someone new.
"And here's your Aunt Genna," Uncle Gerion continued, moving down the line. "And your uncles Kevan and Tygett."
Aunt Genna smiled at Joy, but it wasn't her usual big smile. Uncle Kevan nodded politely, and Uncle Tygett just grunted.
"And these," Uncle Gerion said, finally reaching Adrian and Tyrion, "are your cousins. Tyrion and Adrian Lannister."
Joy peeked out from behind her father's leg, looking at them with shy curiosity.
Adrian stepped forward and bowed like he'd been taught to do for ladies. "Hello, I'm Adrian. I'm five and a half. How old are you?"
Joy glanced up at her father, who nodded encouragingly. "Four," she whispered.
"I have a wooden dragon you can play with if you want," Adrian offered. "Uncle Gerion brought it for me last time."
Joy's eyes widened slightly, but before she could answer, Father spoke.
"Gerion, we have matters to discuss. The servants will show Joy to her chambers in the east wing."
"Joy stays with me for now, Tywin," Uncle Gerion said. "She's traveled far and is tired. There will be time enough for separations later."
Father's face got the pinched look it had when he was angry but didn't want to show it. "As you wish," he said coldly. "We will speak after the welcoming feast."
As Father turned to leave, Aunt Genna stepped forward. "Come, Gerion. You and Joy must be hungry after your journey. Let's get you both settled." She gave Joy a kinder smile this time. "Would you like some lemon cakes, child? Our cook makes the best in the Westerlands."
Joy looked to her father again, who nodded. "Yes, thank you, my lady," she said softly.
As they moved toward the keep, Adrian fell in step beside Joy. "Do you like lions?" he asked. "We have tapestries with lions all over the castle. Some are fighting and some are just looking scary."
Joy considered this. "I like the baby lions best. Father showed me some in a menagerie in Lannisport once."
"We have real lions in the bowels of the Rock," Adrian told her importantly. "But Father doesn't let me see them because they're dangerous. Tyrion has seen them though!" He looked back at his brother. "Haven't you, Tyrion?"
"Indeed I have," Tyrion confirmed, his mismatched eyes twinkling. "Magnificent beasts, if somewhat smelly."
Joy giggled, the first real smile Adrian had seen from her.
The welcoming feast that evening was smaller than usual, just family and a few important household members. Adrian noticed that Joy was seated at the lower end of the table, away from the other Lannisters except for her father. He also noticed that the servants called her "little Lady Hill" instead of "Lady Lannister" like they called him "Lord Lannister."
"Why do they call her Hill?" Adrian whispered to Tyrion, who was seated beside him.
"It's the surname given to noble-born bastards in the Westerlands," Tyrion explained quietly. "We'll discuss it more tomorrow."
Adrian frowned. "Bastards" was a word he'd heard servants say in whispers. It didn't sound like a nice word, but Joy seemed nice.
Across the table, Uncle Gerion was telling one of his exciting stories about fighting pirates off the coast of the Stepstones. Joy watched her father with adoring eyes, while most of the adults looked either amused or skeptical.
"And then," Uncle Gerion said with a dramatic flourish, "the pirate captain swung across on a rope!"
"Did he try to kill you?" Adrian asked, eager to hear the exciting part.
"Oh, he tried," Uncle Gerion winked. "But it takes more than a Tyroshi pirate to best a Lannister!"
Joy beamed with pride at her father's bravery, and Adrian noticed that even though they called her "Hill," she looked just as much a Lannister as any of them. It was confusing.
After the feast, as servants began clearing the tables, Adrian saw Joy sitting alone while Uncle Gerion spoke with Father in low, serious voices.
"Do you want to see the dragon now?" Adrian asked, approaching her. "It's in my chambers."
Joy hesitated, glancing at her father.
"I'll escort them," Tyrion offered, joining them. "Gerion, may I take Joy and Adrian to the children's wing?"
Uncle Gerion looked relieved. "Thank you, Tyrion. Joy, go with your cousins. I'll come find you soon."
As they walked through the massive corridors of Casterly Rock, Adrian noticed how Joy stared wide-eyed at everything—the high ceilings, the golden sconces, the grand tapestries.
"Is this your first time at Casterly Rock?" Adrian asked.
Joy nodded. "Father and I lived in Lannisport before. And we traveled a lot."
"Do you like it?"
Joy looked around uncertainly. "It's very big. And... everyone looks at me funny."
Adrian had noticed that too. Servants would stare at Joy when they thought no one was watching, and whisper behind their hands.
"They look at Tyrion funny too sometimes," Adrian said, trying to make her feel better. "But that's because they're stupid. Tyrion is the smartest person in the whole castle, and you're the newest Lannister, so you're special too."
"I'm not a Lannister though," Joy said quietly. "I'm a Hill."
"That doesn't make sense," Adrian frowned. "Your father is a Lannister, so you should be a Lannister too."
Tyrion cleared his throat. "It's more complicated than that, Adrian. As I said, we'll discuss it tomorrow."
They reached Adrian's chambers, and he proudly showed Joy his collection of toys and books. The wooden dragon from Uncle Gerion was her favorite, just as Adrian had guessed it would be.
As they played, Adrian decided that he liked having another child at Casterly Rock, even if she was younger and a girl. Most of the time he only had grown-ups to talk to, and they didn't want to play games or imagine adventures.
"You can borrow the dragon if you want," Adrian told Joy as Uncle Gerion came to collect her for bed. "Since we're family."
Joy's tired face lit up. "Really?"
"Really," Adrian confirmed. "That's what family does. They share things."
As Uncle Gerion led Joy away, Adrian heard her asking, "Father, am I really family here? Even though I'm a Hill?"
Uncle Gerion's answer was too quiet to hear, but Adrian saw him kneel down and hug Joy tightly.
"Why does being a Hill make things so complicated?" Adrian asked Tyrion after they'd gone.
Tyrion sighed, looking suddenly tired. "Because people can be cruel about things that aren't a child's fault. Remember that, Adrian. Joy didn't choose to be born a Hill, just as I didn't choose to be born a dwarf."
Adrian nodded solemnly, though he still didn't fully understand. All he knew was that Joy seemed sad about being called Hill, and that didn't seem fair.
"I'll be her friend," Adrian decided. "Even if she is a Hill. And I'll let her play with all my toys."
Tyrion's smile was sad and fond at the same time. "You're a good boy, Adrian. Perhaps too good for this nest of lions we call home."
Adrian didn't know what Tyrion meant by that, but he was already planning all the places in the castle he could show Joy tomorrow. The little hidden door behind the kitchen. The window shaped like a lion's mouth. The special corner of the garden where blue flowers grew even in winter.
It would be nice not to be the smallest Lannister anymore. Even if she was really a Hill, whatever that meant.
Tomorrow
The next morning, Adrian made his way to the library, where he knew Tyrion would be. His brother always went to the library after breakfast. Adrian had so many questions bouncing around in his head that he felt like a jumping bean. Questions about Joy and "Hills" and why grown-ups were so strange sometimes.
Sure enough, Tyrion was there, perched on his special chair with the extra cushions, reading a giant book with yellowed pages.
"Tyrion," Adrian announced, climbing onto the window seat across from his brother. "I have questions."
Tyrion looked up. "And here I thought you'd come for the pleasure of my company."
"That too," Adrian said seriously. "But mostly questions."
"Very well." Tyrion closed his book, setting it aside. "What burning curiosity is consuming your formidable intellect today?"
Adrian took a deep breath. "Why is Joy called Hill instead of Lannister? And why do the servants whisper about her? And why did Father look at her like she smelled bad? And why—"
"One at a time, if you please," Tyrion interrupted, holding up a hand. "Let's start with the name. Do you know what a bastard is, Adrian?"
Adrian frowned. "It's a mean word the stable boys say."
"It can be used meanly, yes," Tyrion agreed. "But it also has a specific meaning. A bastard is a child whose parents weren't married when they were born."
Adrian considered this. "Joy's mother and Uncle Gerion weren't married?"
"Correct."
"Why not?"
Tyrion's mouth twitched. "That would be a question for Uncle Gerion. But in Westeros, children born to unmarried parents are given special surnames depending on where they're born. In the Westerlands, that name is Hill."
"But that's silly," Adrian protested. "Joy looks like a Lannister. She has the same hair as you and me." He tugged at his own pale gold locks.
"Society rarely concerns itself with what makes sense," Tyrion replied dryly. "Only with its traditions and prejudices."
Adrian knew "society" was a big word for all the people who made rules, but it was the other word he didn't understand. "What's prej-diss?"
"Prejudice," Tyrion corrected. "It means judging someone before you truly know them, usually unfairly."
"Like how people treat Joy different even though she just got here? Or how they look at you funny because you're small?"
Tyrion's expression softened. "Precisely like that. You're quite perceptive for your age."
"Is that why Father doesn't like Joy?" Adrian pressed. "Because she's a... bastard?" He whispered the last word, feeling like it was something he shouldn't say loudly.
"Father values the Lannister name above all else," Tyrion explained carefully. "He sees Joy as... a complication."
Adrian's forehead scrunched up in thought. "But I'm your brother, and your mother was Lady Joanna, and my mother was someone else. Father told me she was from across the sea. So why am I not a Hill too?"
Tyrion looked uncomfortable suddenly. "That's... different. Father legitimized you."
"What's legit... legit-mized?"
"Legitimized," Tyrion corrected again. "It means Father officially acknowledged you as his son and King Robert legitimized you."
Adrian thought about this, his mind working through the puzzle. "So Father could make Joy a Lannister too? He could legit-mize her?"
"In theory, yes," Tyrion said. "But it would have to be Uncle Gerion who asked the king for that favor, as Joy's father."
"But Uncle Gerion loves Joy," Adrian reasoned. "I saw him hugging her and telling her stories. So why doesn't he make her a Lannister?"
Tyrion sighed. "The world of adults is complicated, Adrian. Perhaps he will someday. Or perhaps he fears Father's disapproval too much to try."
Adrian kicked his feet against the window seat, processing this information. "So my mother and Father weren't married either? But he made me a Lannister anyway?"
"Yes." Tyrion's voice was oddly tight.
"Why?"
"You'd have to ask Father that."
Adrian snorted. "Father doesn't answer questions about my mother. I tried once and he got the scary-quiet face."
"I'm familiar with that face," Tyrion muttered.
"What was she like?" Adrian asked suddenly. "My mother. Did you ever meet her?"
Tyrion hesitated, then shook his head. "No. She was gone before I ever knew about you."
"Oh." Adrian felt a familiar hollow feeling in his chest. "Father only said that she left shorty after I was born."
"I'm sorry, Adrian. I wish I could tell you more."
Adrian nodded, but his mind was already moving to another question. "Why are bastards treated bad? It's not Joy's fault her parents didn't get married."
"No, it isn't," Tyrion agreed, something fierce flashing in his eyes. "Just as it isn't my fault I was born a dwarf. But people fear what is different, what doesn't fit their neat categories."
"That's stupid," Adrian declared. "Joy is nice. And you're the best brother even if you're small."
Tyrion's smile was small but genuine. "Thank you, Adrian. Perhaps you should tell Joy that. I imagine she could use a friend right now."
"I will," Adrian promised. "I'll be her best friend. And I'll tell anyone who's mean to her that they're stupid."
"Perhaps with slightly more diplomatic language," Tyrion suggested, though he looked amused. "Lannister or Hill, she's still our blood. Family."
Adrian nodded solemnly. "Family is important. Father says so all the time."
"Indeed he does," Tyrion murmured, something odd in his voice.
Adrian hopped down from the window seat. "I'm going to find Joy now. She's probably lonely."
"Adrian," Tyrion called as he reached the door. "You're a good lad. Don't let anyone change that about you."
Adrian frowned, confused. "Why would anyone want to change me?"
Tyrion just shook his head. "Go find your cousin. And try not to call anyone stupid directly to their face. It tends to complicate matters."
"I'll only think it really loud then," Adrian promised with a grin.
As he ran through the corridors in search of Joy, Adrian's mind kept circling back to what Tyrion had said. Father had "legitimized" him, made him a true Lannister even though his mother wasn't Father's wife. But why? And why wouldn't Uncle Gerion do the same for Joy?
It didn't make sense. Grown-ups made everything so complicated.
More questions formed in Adrian's mind, but these he kept to himself. Questions about the mother he'd never known. Had she held him? Had she loved him? Did she have the same color hair as he did—not quite Lannister gold, but something paler?
But these weren't questions for Tyrion, or even for Father, who wouldn't answer them anyway. These were questions Adrian tucked away in his heart, like little treasures to be examined when he was alone.
For now, he had a cousin to find. A cousin who needed a friend, just as he once had before Tyrion became his brother.
Two Days Later
The gardens of Casterly Rock were Adrian's favorite place when the weather was nice. Unlike the cold stone walls inside, the gardens were full of colors and smells and secret places where a boy could hide. Today, Adrian was showing Joy his special hiding spots.
"This one's the best," Adrian declared, pulling aside a curtain of hanging vines to reveal a small stone bench hidden in an alcove. "Nobody can see you here, but you can see everyone who walks by."
Joy's eyes widened with appreciation. "It's like a secret castle!"
"Exactly!" Adrian beamed, pleased that she understood. "I come here when I don't want Maester Creylen to find me for lessons."
Joy giggled, her golden curls bouncing as she ducked inside. Adrian followed, and they sat side by side on the bench, their legs dangling above the ground.
It had been three days since Joy arrived at Casterly Rock, and Adrian had appointed himself her official guide and protector. He'd shown her the lion fountains, the seashell mosaic in the east corridor, and the kitchen where Cook would give them honey cakes if they asked nicely.
"Do you like it here?" Adrian asked, plucking a leaf from the vines.
Joy thought about it seriously. "Some parts. The food is better than in Lannisport. And my room has a real feather bed." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But some of the servants are unkind."
Adrian frowned. "Unkind how?"
"They whisper when I walk by. And yesterday, when I spilled my drink, a lady called me 'ill-bred hill child' when she thought I couldn't hear."
Adrian's frown deepened. "That's stupid. You're not ill-bred. You're Uncle Gerion's daughter."
"But I'm still a bastard," Joy said quietly. "Father told me what it means. It means my mother and father weren't married by a septon."
"Do you remember your mother?" Adrian asked curiously.
Joy's face brightened. "A little bit. She had curly hair like mine, but dark instead of gold. And she sang songs from the Summer Isles." Her smile faded. "She died when I was two, Father says. That's why we traveled so much after. Father said he was looking for happiness again."
"That's why he named you Joy," Adrian realized.
"Uh-huh." Joy nodded. "What about your mother? Cousin Tyrion's mother was Lady Joanna, but she died. Who was yours?"
Adrian felt that funny empty feeling in his chest that always came when he thought about his mother.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Father doesn't talk about her. He just says she was foreign."
"Don't you have any memories of her?"
Adrian shook his head. "She was gone before I could remember. I don't even know what she looked like."
Joy's small hand reached out to pat his arm sympathetically. "I'm really sorry. At least I have some memories of my mama."
"And at least you have Uncle Gerion," Adrian added. "He's the best uncle. He tells the best stories and brings the best presents."
"He's the best father too," Joy said loyally. "Even if everyone here looks at him funny for bringing me."
Adrian hadn't noticed that, but he wasn't surprised. Grown-ups were always looking at each other funny for reasons he didn't understand. They made everything so complicated.
"Let's play a game," Adrian suggested, not wanting Joy to be sad. "Let's pretend we're explorers discovering hidden treasure in the gardens."
Joy's face lit up. "Can I be the captain?"
"We can both be captains," Adrian decided magnanimously. "Of different ships. But we're friends, not enemies."
They emerged from their hiding spot and began their game, using sticks as swords and a handkerchief tied to a branch as their flag. As they played, racing through the gardens and hiding behind statues, Adrian noticed two serving girls watching them and whispering behind their hands.
"Look at her, playing with the young lord as if she belongs," one murmured to the other.
"Lord Tywin won't like that," the other replied. "Bastards knowing their place and all."
Adrian marched right up to them, standing as tall as his five-year-old frame allowed. "If you're talking about my cousin, you should know that Lord Tywin doesn't like servants who gossip instead of work. My father told me that himself."
The servants exchanged alarmed glances before hurrying away with mumbled apologies.
"You scared them," Joy said, sounding impressed.
Adrian shrugged, trying to look like it was nothing even though his heart was racing. "Father says a Lannister doesn't tolerate disrespect."
"But I'm not really a Lannister," Joy pointed out. "I'm a Hill."
"You're still family," Adrian insisted. "You have the same blood as me. And blood is what really matters."
Joy didn't look convinced. "I don't think Lord Tywin sees it that way."
She was right, and Adrian knew it. Father was very particular about names and who deserved to have them. But Adrian couldn't understand why Joy was different just because of who her mother was or whether her parents had said special words to a septon.
"When I'm Lord of Casterly Rock," Adrian declared, "you'll be treated just like any Lannister. I'll make sure of it."
Joy giggled. "That won't be for a long, long time."
"Still," Adrian insisted. "I'll remember my promise."
They continued their game until a servant called them in for the midday meal. As they walked back to the keep, Adrian noticed how Joy always stayed slightly behind him, like she didn't think she should walk beside him. It made him feel both important and sad at the same time.
In the small dining hall, Uncle Gerion was waiting for them. His face brightened when he saw them together.
"Well, look at this! My favorite daughter and my favorite nephew, thick as thieves already."
"We're exploring captains," Joy informed him seriously. "Adrian scared away some servants for me."
Uncle Gerion's eyebrows rose as he looked at Adrian. "Did he now?"
Adrian felt his face flush. "They were saying bad things about Joy."
Instead of being angry, Uncle Gerion laughed and ruffled Adrian's hair. "A true knight, defending a lady's honor! Tywin's raised a proper little lion, it seems."
"Joy's a lion too," Adrian said stubbornly. "Even if she's called Hill."
Something changed in Uncle Gerion's eyes.
"Yes, she is," he agreed quietly. "Never forget that, either of you. Names are just words. Blood is forever."
Later, after they'd eaten and Joy had gone with her father to rest, Adrian wandered back to the gardens alone. He found himself at the enormous stone lions that guarded the main path, their paws as big as his whole body.
"What makes a real Lannister?" he asked one of the lions. It stared back with empty stone eyes, giving no answer.
Adrian thought about Father, so tall and stern and perfect. About Tyrion, so clever but treated differently because he was small. About Joy, who had Lannister blood but not the Lannister name.
And about himself—the heir to Casterly Rock who didn't even know his mother's name.
Maybe being a Lannister wasn't just about gold hair and green eyes. Maybe it wasn't even about having the right name.
"Maybe it's about who decides you belong," Adrian told the stone lion. "And Father decided I belong."
The lion kept its secrets, and Adrian turned back toward the keep, wondering if someday he would understand why grown-ups made everything so complicated when the answers seemed so simple to him.
Six Months Later - Early 289 AC - Balon Greyjoy
The waves crashed against the stone foundations of Pyke, sending salt spray through the open windows of the Sea Tower. Balon Greyjoy stood before the Seastone Chair, his back rigid, his weathered face set in hard lines as he faced his brothers.
"The greenlanders grow soft under Robert Baratheon," Balon declared, his voice as rough as iron scraping stone. "The Usurper sits upon his stolen throne, drunk more oft than not, while the realm fractures beneath him."
Victarion nodded solemnly, his massive arms crossed over his chest. "The Iron Fleet stands ready, brother. Three times the size it was during the rebellion."
"And what would you have us do with this fleet?" asked Euron Greyjoy. "Raid fishing villages? Steal salt wives from the Stony Shore?" He chuckled.
"We are ironborn," Balon growled. "We do not sow. We take what is ours. And all of Westeros was once ours, before the dragons came."
"The dragons are gone," said Aeron, the youngest of the brothers, his beard still dripping from his morning swim. "But their thrones remain."
"Aye, and Robert Baratheon sits his arse upon it now," Balon spat on the floor. "A man who's never set foot on a longship. A man who's never felt the kiss of salt water on his face during a storm." He strode to the window, staring out at the churning seas surrounding Pyke. "What right does such a man have to rule over us?"
Victarion's face remained impassive. "None."
Euron's smile widened. "So you would crown yourself king, brother? Revive the old way?"
"What is dead may never die," intoned Aeron.
"But rises again, harder and stronger," Balon finished. "Yes, I would be king. As our father's father was king. As all Greyjoys were kings before Aegon and his dragons forced us to bend the knee."
In his mind, Balon saw it clearly: himself seated upon the Seastone Chair, a driftwood crown upon his brow, the Iron Islands independent once more. And then—then the ironborn would take back what was theirs. The greenlands would pay the iron price, starting with their richest shores.
"They have their own fleets," cautioned Victarion. "And the Lannisters—"
"The Lannisters," Balon interrupted, a crude smile splitting his bearded face. "The proud lions with their golden ships and golden halls. They'll be the first to feel our wrath."
Euron raised an eyebrow. "The Lannisters? Tywin Lannister is not a man to cross lightly, brother."
"Tywin Lannister is but one man, and his strength is in his gold," Balon declared, thumping his chest. "Gold cannot stop the storm of our longships. Gold cannot shield them from our iron."
"His gold buys armies," Aeron pointed out. "And fleets."
"Fleets that will burn," Balon said, his eyes gleaming with the vision. "We will strike at Lannisport first. Their ships will burn in their harbor. Their gold will fill our coffers. And while the lions roar in helpless fury, we will take Fair Isle and control the Sunset Sea."
Victarion nodded slowly, warming to the plan. "The Lannister fleet is formidable, but unprepared. A night attack—"
"With every ship we have," Balon finished. "Led by you, brother."
Euron's face darkened slightly, but his smile remained. "And what of Robert Baratheon? What of his banners? The Redwyne fleet alone—"
"Will take weeks to sail around Dorne and up the western shores," Balon dismissed with a wave of his hand. "By then, we will hold the seas from Fair Isle to Seagard. The Iron Islands will be a kingdom again, and I will be its king."
"And when the greenlanders unite against us?" Euron pressed. "When the Usurper brings his war hammer, and Tywin Lannister his gold, and Eddard Stark his frozen honor? What then, King Balon?"
Balon's laugh was a harsh, grating sound. "Then they will learn what every man learns when he faces the sea in a storm. That some forces cannot be defied. That the old way endures." He turned to Victarion. "Gather the captains. We make our plans tonight. Within a moon's turn, Lannisport will burn, and the golden lions will weep salt tears."
Victarion bowed his head, a warrior's eagerness in his eyes. "It shall be done, brother."
"My king," Aeron corrected solemnly. "It shall be done, my king."
Balon Greyjoy smiled, already tasting salt and victory. The Greenlanders had grown soft in their castles, counting their gold and playing their games. They had forgotten the old way. They had forgotten the iron price.
He would remind them, and the name Greyjoy would once again strike terror into the hearts of men from Oldtown to White Harbor.
"What is dead may never die," he declared.
"But rises again harder and stronger," his brothers answered in unison.
Note: In the books, Joy Hill was born in 288 AC In this story, she was born in 284 AC, so she is a year younger than Jon.
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