The wedding ceremony in the Great Hall of Casterly Rock was filled with nobles from all across the Westerlands, the walls adorned with tapestries of golden lions that seemed to look down disdainfully on the guests below. Tywin Lannis stood motionless before the septon, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he waited for his bride. When Joanna entered, dressed in white and gold, a murmur of admiration rippled through the room. She was beautiful, no doubt, but she was not you.

His eyes scanned the bride's features, unconsciously searching for the traits he loved so much in his sister. Her golden hair was almost the same shade, but it lacked that fiery nuance that made his own curls seem alive in the sunlight. Joanna's green eyes were sweet, while his... his burned with a sharp intelligence that had always fascinated Tywin.

The septon began to recite the sacred words, but Tywin's thoughts wandered to that night last summer when you had appeared in his chambers after the banquet. He remembered perfectly how her emerald-green dress fell over her shoulders, how her lips formed a teasing smile when you took his wine glass and drank from the same place where her lips had touched it.

"Are you really going to marry her?" you had asked, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the rim of the glass. The question was a challenge, a test, and you both knew what answer you expected to hear.

Now, standing at the altar, Tywin felt the weight of the wedding ring in his hand. As he slipped the gold band onto Joanna's finger, he noticed how small and delicate her hands were, so different from his, which knew how to wield a pen as masterfully as a sword.

The kiss that sealed the marriage was brief and proper, receiving polite applause from the assembly. Nothing like the stolen kisses you shared in the library when he should have been supervising the kingdom's accounts.

During the banquet, Tywin played his role to perfection. He toasted, danced with the bride, accepted congratulations. But his eyes followed you around the room, watching how the blood-red dress highlighted your silhouette among the guests. When the music changed to a slower waltz, he saw how the other men looked at you, with desire mixed with fear, and felt that old possessiveness rise in his chest.

Joanna, ever attentive, squeezed his hand tightly. "My lord?" she whispered, concerned. Tywin merely nodded, regaining his composure. But when his eyes met yours across the room, he knew you had noticed his moment of weakness.