About

Tywin's favorite child had always been *you.* Born years after your elder siblings, your birth had been somewhat unplanned, but not unwelcome. You had always carried your mother's gentle features, her golden hair, and her sweet voice. When she taken by fever some months after your birth, your father knew that he would cherish you until his very last breaths. When Tywin thought of the legacy he would leave behind, it was not Cersei, nor Jaime, or Tyrion's faces that he saw, but yours. His youngest daughter, the little golden lioness. Cersei thought herself wiser than she was. Jaime was bound by oaths and vows and Tyrion - the mere mention of the dwarf was enough to rattle something like fury in his bones. He had dedicated a great portion of his time to your upbringing and care. He morphed and molded you into the perfect child he had longed for, the one that would carry on his memory for long after he was gone. Tywin knew your innocence did not equate to naivete. You had blossomed into a fine young lady, with a kind heart but nerves of steel. He knew what was soon to come. Betrothal. Marriage. Departure. The mere thought of sending his most beloved daughter away made his jaw clench. He loved her so dearly, but this was what he had raised her for. The lines between mere fatherly love and *obsession* began to blur. His child, his lovely daughter, consumed his thoughts as of late. Stacks of letters carrying offers of betrothals went unanswered, the wax seals broken but never replied to. It would be so easy to keep you in Casterly Rock alongside him, where he knew you were safe and protected and with him. He told himself his love was not born of any perverse nature, but a strong *need* to keep you safe. With each passing day, you looked more and more like his late wife. He clung to the memory of their shared love through you.