Chapter 182

The floor beneath was of polished hardwood, the walls adorned with banners bearing the golden lion of their house, and the room was filled with gilded and golden ornaments. At the center of this opulent hall, a group of finely dressed individuals sat around a table, deliberating over how to address the greatest crisis House Lannister had ever faced.

At the head of the table sat Tywin Lannister, Duke of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. Tall, broad-shouldered, and still vigorous in his fifties, Tywin commanded the room with his presence. Ever decisive, he had shaved his head clean when his hair began thinning, leaving only thick golden sideburns running from his ears to his jaw.

His usual stern expression was now tinged with a faint trace of worry.

...

"The final ultimatum from King’s Landing," said Kevan Lannister, the family’s second-in-command, as he pulled a slip of paper from his sleeve and placed it on the table. "Robert demands that you send Jaime and Cersei back immediately to face trial and punishment and that you personally appear to account for their crimes. If you fail to comply within ten days, it will be deemed an act of rebellion, and the Iron Throne will mobilize the entire realm to destroy us. Considering the three-day ride from Casterly Rock to King’s Landing, you have five days to decide."

"Robert didn’t write that," Tywin said, not even glancing at the letter. "He’d sooner grab his warhammer, don armor, and personally march on Casterly Rock than pen an ultimatum."

"The Hand of the King has the authority to act in Robert’s stead," Kevan replied. Though balding and portly, Kevan’s judgment had never been questioned. His cold gaze swept over Jaime and Cersei, seated silently to the side. Once hailed as the "Golden Twins," the pride of House Lannister, they were now poised to bring about its ruin. "Whether it was Eddard Stark or Robert who authorized this letter is irrelevant. It represents the Iron Throne’s demands. The only question is whether to comply."

"What’s your opinion?" Tywin asked, his face betraying no emotion.

Kevan hesitated. As an uncle, he found it difficult to speak the truth aloud. "Most of the realm’s houses are already preparing to raise their banners again. The last war only just ended, but it won’t take long for them to muster their forces. Margaery Tyrell is about to become queen. With the Iron Throne leading the charge, the Reach supplying the food, and the other five kingdoms providing soldiers, we don’t stand a chance."

"There’s no need to hold back. Speak your mind," Tywin said, his expression unchanging. "You think I should cut off my own arm to save the body—send Jaime and Cersei to King’s Landing to be executed, renounce the Iron Throne’s debts to our house, and beg for clemency in order to return safely to Casterly Rock. Isn’t that right?"

Kevan remained silent, neither confirming nor denying the statement, but his posture made it clear that this was his recommendation.

"What of our allies?" Cersei interjected, her composure cracking as she spoke for the first time. "We’ve spent so much gold in peacetime cultivating friendships with other houses. Has no one stepped forward to help us in our time of need? Are all of Westeros such ungrateful wretches?"

"Allies?" Tywin’s scornful tone silenced her. "The fact that some still dare to send warnings, letting us know their lords are raising armies, is already the greatest kindness we can expect. You expect more? Do you think the entire realm is filled with fools like you?"

The former queen, now stripped of her title, had no retort. Before her father, the indomitable figure of Tywin Lannister, her authority crumbled. Head lowered, she muttered, "Could we not use our gold to buy loyalty? Spare no expense—surely we can sway some houses to our side."

"Who would risk their lives for gold they can take after our defeat?" Tywin sneered. "Once the Iron Throne conquers the Westerlands, all our gold and mines will belong to them. Would you stand with a doomed house for a few coins, or wait and take the spoils when we fall? Think before you speak, Cersei."

He turned to glare at her. "Let me ask you this: what were you thinking when you admitted to Robert’s face that the rumors were true? And even suggested that Jaime should kill the king?"

Jaime finally broke his silence. "Father, we cannot win this war. Send Cersei and me to King’s Landing. Let us face the consequences and save the family."

...

Tywin’s cold gaze turned to his son. "Do you think saying that makes you noble? Selfless? Are you moved by your own supposed heroism?"

"Father, this all began because of us—"

"Do you still not understand?" Tywin’s voice rose as he slammed the table. "This is not just about the two of you. If I hand over my children, the reputation I’ve spent decades rebuilding for House Lannister will be destroyed. People will say, ‘Tywin Lannister—he’s just a craven old man who bullies his vassals but kneels the moment the Iron Throne commands it.’"

Kevan spoke, his tone matter-of-fact. "For the past decade, we’ve loaned the Iron Throne three million gold dragons to secure Cersei’s position as queen and to ensure the future king would carry Lannister blood. If we capitulate now, we lose not only Jaime and Cersei but also that debt, our position in the Westerlands, and the respect and fear we command. House Lannister would be ruined."

"Exactly," Tywin continued. "We would lose everything—our wealth, our lands, and our legacy. And in the vacuum left by our fall, another family would rise. The Westerlands would belong to someone else. Do you think they’d allow us to remain as minor lords, peacefully mining gold under the rule of a new Warden of the West?"

Kevan shook his head. "The moment we showed weakness, every house in the Westerlands would seize the chance to strike. They fear us, yes, but fear breeds hatred, and hatred seeks destruction. If we fall, they will do to us what was done to the Targaryens—wipe us out completely."

"Then no matter what we do, House Lannister is doomed?" Jaime asked, clutching at his bandaged side as the weight of his actions began to sink in.

"Not necessarily," Tywin said. "Win the war, crush the other six kingdoms, and the crisis will resolve itself. But can we achieve that?" He fixed his gaze on Jaime. "Do you know where you went wrong?"

"I... and Cersei..."

"Nothing happened between you and Cersei. That’s a lie! I will not repeat myself again!" Tywin roared, slamming his hand on the table. "Your greatest mistake was striking Robert but failing to kill him. Mercy to your enemy is cruelty to yourself. Do you think Robert will forgive your restraint?"

The door swung open with a bang, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. A dwarf entered under the gaze of the Lannister family’s core members.

"Uncle," Tyrion said with a bow. "Father, dear brother, and sister, it’s good to see you all alive."

Tywin didn’t rise, instead studying his son with a sharp, unreadable expression. "So the rumors of your escape from King’s Landing are true."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Father," Tyrion replied, strolling to the table. "Don’t jump up to embrace me—I’d hate for you to strain your back." Climbing into a chair, he poured himself a drink from Tywin’s wine bottle. "I do wonder, though. Why did you send soldiers to retrieve Jaime and Cersei but not spare any to search for me? Do you have any idea how many backroads I had to take to get here? I think my legs are even shorter now."

"I didn’t know you’d escaped at the time," Tywin replied coldly. "Now that you’re here, spare us your sarcasm. House Lannister is on the brink of destruction. If you’re as clever as you claim, prove it. We were just discussing this ultimatum from the Iron Throne. What’s your advice?"

Tyrion glanced at the letter Kevan handed him, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Well then, let’s see how we might survive this mess..."