Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Expansion
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Joanna POV:

I sat in the dim light of my chamber, the soft click of knitting needles filling the silence as I worked with deliberate precision. My belly, swollen with the weight of another child, now three moons along.

Beside me, Cersei fidgeted with a needle and thread, her brow furrowed in frustration as she attempted to sew. Patience was never her strong suit—my daughter's fiery spirit was far better suited to swords than delicate cloth.

As my fingers moved automatically, my thoughts wandered to my recent journey to King's Landing. Back then It had only been a moon since the city settled in the aftermath of the Lannisport purge. I could no longer delay my presence at court, though every part of me had resisted the summons. The moment I set foot in the Red Keep, I felt the weight of the king's leering gaze.

Aerys' words still echoed in my mind, venomous and sickly sweet. He had mocked me, his lascivious remarks thinly veiled under the guise of courtly jest. I had stood my ground, smiling through clenched teeth, refusing to let his vile words break my composure. I'd endured worse for the sake of my family.

But what haunted me more than the king's taunts was the purge of Lannisport. I told Tywin everything when I reunited with him in the capital, sparing no detail. The city had been bathed in blood, the streets thick with the stench of fear and death. His face remained impassive as I recounted the horrors, though I knew him well enough to sense the cold fury simmering beneath the surface.

We returned to Casterly Rock after a moon in King's Landing, and just like that, Tywin's seed in me had taken root. Three moons have passed since my return, and the signs of new life were becoming unmistakable.

I glanced over at Cersei. My little girl, now seven, had once brimmed with confidence. Now her hands trembled slightly as she sewed, the task bringing her no joy or satisfaction. A sigh escaped me as I remembered the night that had shattered her innocence.

She had woken up screaming, claiming she had seen a man with knives for fingers standing in her room. The image was so vivid in her mind—a hooded figure with blades protruding from his knuckles, watching her from the shadows of the balcony.

I comforted her that night, brushing the nightmare aside as childish fancy. Casterly Rock was impenetrable, a fortress that had stood for centuries without fear of intruders. It was impossible for anyone to scale the sheer cliffs to reach her balcony, and yet Cersei was convinced. The terror in her eyes had been real—too real to dismiss. The Lannister guards found no sign of an intruder.

Rumors of a hooded man had begun circulating throughout Lannisport, a figure who seemed to slip through the city unnoticed, leaving whispers of fear in his wake. I couldn't help but wonder if Cersei's nightmare had been born from these tales.

Cersei's needle clattered against the table, and she huffed in frustration. I smiled faintly, though my heart ached. My daughter, who excelled at reading, noble etiquette, even sparring, had no patience for the domestic tasks expected of her.

"You're getting better," I said softly, though the tangled mess of thread in her lap told a different story.

"Ugh, why do I need to do this?" Cersei said in annoyance.

"You'll think it's useless now, but in the future, you'll be happy you learned this," I said gently. After all, sewing with friends and having casual conversations was a way to gauge someone's mind, to probe their character.

Knitting, which I was doing, was also relaxing and calming. It helped me get by. Now that I was pregnant and feeling the sickness, I had been told to lessen my workload.