The hallways of Casterly Rock were dimly lit as Tywin strode toward his chambers, his boots echoing softly against the stone. He had arrived hours later than planned, the business in the Westerlands dragging on longer than anticipated. Weariness tugged at him, but the thought of Joanna—his Joanna—waiting for him was all the encouragement he needed.

He opened the chamber door quietly, careful not to wake her if she was already asleep. The room was warm, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. By the faint glow of the fire, he saw her silhouette on the bed, her golden curls spilling across the pillows. His chest tightened at the sight; her growing form, softer now with pregnancy, filled him with pride.

Tywin slipped off his cloak and boots, approaching the bed with purpose. Sliding under the covers, he reached for her, brushing a hand along her waist and marveling at the slight curve of her belly. “Joanna,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with relief and want. He kissed her all over eagerly, his hands moving instinctively as he sought the comfort he had missed.

But then, something felt… off. The scent was so familiar—lavender, the hair a bit longer, had she let it grow?? His hand moved from her hips to her chest tentatively , hoping he was wrong. His fingers were met with fuller chest than his new wife ever had in her life, even with the pregnancy, and when he pulled back to look at her face, his heart stopped.

Oh shit…

This wasn’t Joanna.