A Beast's Heart (english version)

36.

Over the next few days, I was even more tense than usual. At first the fever seemed to subside, but then it got worse again. The lord lay mute under his blanket and stared around the room with lacklustre, tired eyes. I tried one tea after another, elderberry tea today.
He didn't even ask for it when I entered the room. He looked worn out.
"Hang in there, my lord," I murmured, carefully passing him the cup, "I'll get it somehow."
I would not break my promise again. Even if it was to him.
Tywin let it all pass silently, sinking into his stupor and becoming more and more distant from reality. Concerned, I noticed that he sometimes quietly rebuked a Cersei and a Jaime. Or he would whisper the name Joanna. As he did so, he gazed into space with a slight smile and I knew - he hadn't been here for a long time. He was in his own world.
"Lord Tywin," I said, putting the cup down and gently shaking him by the shoulder, "Lord Tywin, you must stay here!"
Very slowly he raised his eyes to me, looking at me blankly for a long time. I returned the look before leaning in towards him. The sickness was clear to smell, but I largely ignored it.
"You still have a war to win," I reminded him and stood up.
"Where are you going?" his soft voice sounded behind me. It was the first sentence that had come back to me in two days. Or was it not to me after all? He sounded hoarse and brittle, I almost didn't understand him. I turned around and sure enough - his gaze rested on me.
"I'm going to get some more soup. I'll be right back."
I ran into the kitchen. Margaret sighed softly as our eyes met.
"You don't look well."
"I'm running out of ideas, Margaret," I replied desperately, pouring the soup into a small bowl, "If this keeps up, he's going to die."
Once more sudden fear filled me. Margaret put her hand on my shoulder briefly.
"Don't you worry about him. He'll be fine somehow."
I nodded slowly and took the soup to him. I wasn't at all sure he was going to make it anymore.
As I entered the room, I saw little beads of sweat forming on Tywin's forehead and breathed a quick sigh of relief. The elderberry tea was having an effect. Now I hoped it would help him too.
I sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and brought the soup spoon to his mouth. So now I sat here and offered him the soup. Him, the Lannister. The head of my enemies. There was a time when I would have hated myself for it. But the thought of my mother stopped me.
"Lena, sick people must be cared for as best you can. They suffer enough as it is, you don't have to pick on them too," she had told me. And I stuck to that.
I didn't know if Tywin even noticed that his food was being served. It was only when he turned his gaze to me and examined me - as much as he could - that I had hope he would return. I noticed how he very slowly pulled his right hand out from under the blanket and placed it tremblingly on mine while I shoved the next spoonful of soup into his mouth. We looked into each other's eyes for what felt like half an eternity, then he pulled my hand away.
"I don't want any more."
I sighed softly and put the bowl down. I had to watch him emaciate and there was nothing I could do. Anger filled me, anger at myself.
"Lord Tywin, you must eat something," I tried again, but he shook his head minimally. Then he closed his eyes and sank into sleep. I ruffled my hair and sat back in the chair I had placed for myself beside his bed. I barely noticed Margaret, who suddenly stood behind me. It was only with her hand on my shoulder that I noticed her.
"I'm losing him," I whispered, snorting angrily, "I'm incapable of curing him of his fever!"
"Don't be so hard on yourself," the old maid replied softly, "You've done more for him in the last few days than all of us put together. And he knows that."
"Are you sure about that? He's hardly here anymore."
Suddenly I felt his hand on mine, still on the edge of the bed, and looked up from my lap in confusion. Tywin reached for my hand in his sleep and for the first time I held very still. In addition, I placed my second hand over his for a moment and stroked the back of his hand reassuringly until he exhaled deeply and calmed down again.
"I'm quite sure," Margaret murmured, watching the whole thing with a minimal smirk. I just let his hand rest on mine and looked up at Margaret, exhausted.
"What else do you want me to do?"
"If herbs don't work, then try spiritual support. He needs to find his strength again, that may help."
"And how do you want me to do that?"
She was already walking to the door, but turned to me once more. There was that slight smirk on her face again and she pointed to our hands.
"That right there is a good start."
Then she just left without waiting for my reply. I stared after her for a long time, no longer understanding the world. Providing spiritual support, how did that work?
I remembered how I had squatted next to my little brother back then. I had been there day and night, holding his little hand and talking to him quietly. Had that been spiritual support too?
"You can do this, Lord Tywin," I finally whispered, brushing some sweat from his brow, "you are strong, you will prevail." ...

***

Alone in the corridors, I could no longer suppress a hoarse low laugh. If that wasn't love, then I didn't know it any more. Lena had it on her face, her apprehension betrayed her. She had never been like this before, always cold and dismissive. Especially when it came to Lord Tywin. Once I had vaguely overheard her speak of hatred. Bitter hatred towards all of them, she had said. But now she seemed to make a turn, there was no longer a spark of coldness in her voice. Only concern. Concern for the lord.
It was kind of cute to see their hands on each other. Lena's uncertainty, the desire to pull her hand away. Yet she had held still. She probably didn't suspect it yet, or she didn't want to admit it to herself. But I was sure that she felt something for him. And it was definitely no longer hatred.
Poor thing, I thought then, and my smile disappeared. If I was right, this was going to end very painfully for her. I didn't like to imagine her wandering the world again, her belly swollen with a little bastard. There would certainly be no future for her at Lord Tywin's side.
Love. Two-sided like a coin. As beautiful and also as painful as all torture methods combined. Hopefully she would find her way. With this thought I returned to the kitchen and took my place by the fire....