Heir

Lord Tywin wore splendid armor, its heavy steel plates glazed dark red. His breastplate, greaves, and gauntlets were adorned with intricate golden spiral patterns. Two golden lionesses crouched upon his shoulders, while a golden lion stood proudly atop his great helm.

A gilded scabbard stood upright before the lord's chest, holding a greatsword adorned with rubies. His hands gripped its hilt tightly.

As Cersei looked upon the Old Lion's dignified remains, she suddenly found that her father no longer seemed so frightening.

His gleaming green eyes, with their golden pupils, had seemed capable of seeing through everything—through the weakness, incompetence, and ugliness within one's soul.

But those soul-stealing eyes had closed forever... From now on, it was her eyes they should fear. She too was a lion, the Old Lion's true heir.

Her father had been a great man, but she believed she could do better than he had.

In the future, when the maesters recorded history, the Old Lion would be known as the father of Cersei Lannister.

Seven High Septon priests in silver robes stood behind the coffin, praying that The Father would judge Lord Tywin Lannister fairly.

After they finished their recitation, seventy-seven septas gathered before The Mother's altar and sang hymns to beg for mercy.

Cersei's knees ached. She looked toward Jaime, who still stood motionless like a statue. The traitor did not dare meet her gaze.

Below, Kevan Lannister knelt with slumped shoulders, his son—who looked like a seventy-year-old man—kneeling beside him.

That night, the Old Lion had gone to the Throne Room for Lancel's sake, yet it was her father and her son who had died. Why was Lancel still alive? Had The Gods lost their minds?

Kevan... He had deceived the Lioness's daughter. His son had caused the Lannister tragedy. He ought to