Author's Note:

The beginning of the next arc. People told me that they liked the added comedy twist with the little girl Mary, so she will be something of a fixture of stability in Tywin's life even if he never wanted it. This chapter of course will delve another layer deeper into his very mind.

Personally, in my opinion, every man in power lost something of himself that was the man before. Naturally, the same with the fairer sex.

EDIT: Mount and Blade II: Bannerlord Beta confirmed!

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Lord of Aldelen

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Being a Lord was more than merely exercising the petty rights, instead, it was a call to lead the smallfolk like a shepherd would lead his sheep. Of course, sheep regularly faced danger from the wolves.

Wolves. It could be bandits. An enemy army. Other nobles. Or even a lowborn who thought himself above his station. A danger as any. If they couldn't be ruthlessly squashed before it would be too late, the authority - given right of the Lord - would lose respect. To lose respect meant walking like a smallfolk but dressed in the finest silk like a Lord. Tytos would know that very well. His father, the greatest fool in history.

It was the natural order of the living world. Nobles guided the peasants. Only men of noble blood could lead the unruly mob that was the smallfolk. Any which went against the natural order must be brought to heel like wild rabid animals, its line of mud erased from the annals, its name forbidden, its deeds tainted, till nothing but ashes remained.

Tywin Lannister was never a smallfolk, his blood remained pure as ever, the noble blood of House Lannister. Lann the Clever was of noble blood. Nothing less. After all, the House Lannister ruled the Westerlands since its rise. Only a House which was destined to lead could rule.

He repeated: Wolves were a danger. They take many faces. He knew such as the Reyne and Tarbeck tried to undo the ancient dynasty of Lannister by usurping it through his weak foolish father. Tywin brought them to heel. His iron fist grabbed them by the throats as he slowly squeezed the lives of thousands out. His tales of common sense spun like webs over every corner of the Seven Kingdoms. A weak Lord begets ambitious vassals. So he would be strong. His vassals feared him. Another rose in rebellion who was silenced with nothing but a bard playing the Rains of Castamere.

A lion did not concern himself with the opinion of sheep. The smallfolk would do their duty since birth which was to kneel in front of their very Lord. The opinions of them would never matter.

That was the reason he stood in front of the sleeping little chit who dared to call him her father. His blade touched her unmarred pale skin. Yet... His hand did not want to listen to its master. Hesitation.

There were many reasons he needed to kill off the whore and her child. It was a slight to his own House, the noble House Lannister. His blood would be diluted. The whore was pregnant, he could see her belly protruding. A bastard would be born. Another slight against his House. A slight his new rising House would carry forever. The nobles would laugh at him, insult him even to his face. His house words wouldn't be taken seriously.

It would spread like rumours through all the lands in Calradia. His reputation would be besmirched again if he did not cut off the rot. It would be easy to kill the child in her sleep. After that, he would just cut the whore's throat. No need to do something distasteful as stabbing the babe in her belly like Lorch. Without the mother's support, the child would be gone.

Unfortunately, that would also influence the morale of his Lannister guard. He could blame the deaths of them to some bandit, yet that would be an even greater shame. The Lord of Aldelen couldn't even protect his wife and child, all would whisper under their breaths.

He would not be the second coming of Tytos.

Tywin Lannister had decided. He breathed deeply in as he raised his sword. He brought it down, yet stopped as the blade shone, reflecting an object in the shack. His curiosity sparked. He followed the light and saw under a wolf fur pelt the ring.

His fingers touched the cold steel as he brought it to his face. An insignia, a noble's ring. He froze as a thought struck him.

Brynhildr could be the daughter of a noble. Unfortunately, she did not divulge more on her parents since they rutted.

Her House could be either destroyed by the enemies or it was exiled. Well, well, well. It appeared she did have her use. He would not kill them, yet. Until he could make out the bigger picture of the board.

She and her daughter would make useful tools for his ambitions. He would not discard them now that they could be used to further his House. He grimaced at the thought of having the little chit as a daughter.

Yet, sometimes it amused him, the girl's silliness. That he admitted.

He glanced down at his sword which trembled in his grip. He sheathed the sword in its scabbard. Not today at least. His hand clenched around the ring as he put it into his pouch. She would be forced to see him after she found the ring missing.

As a Lord of Aldelen, he had many duties to perform. In times of need, the smallfolk looked up to the nobles for guidance. He would manage the fief as it was his responsibility to make it prosperous. It would be the new seat of his House. After all, the legends began in this very place like the legend of Lann the Clever who obtained Casterly Rock.

He would build it.

Tywin would need to send some men to inspect the mountains after veins. A gold mine would be preferable, but too dangerous to have as a minor House. In this case, steel was worth more. His men would need to better armoured as he was at the new border of the Nords who would very like it to raid his fief.

Count Beranz would, of course, reinforce him with his own troops, however, he did not trust the Count at all. He would play the loyal vassal until an opportunity appeared for him to betray the Count.

The Count was a weak Lord. It stood to reason that he was the ambitious vassal who would rebel against his Lord. He would be successful when he struck.

Tywin Lannister could wait. He was a patient man. He endured years of insults in the court of Aerys.

He stood up, went to the whore, no, his wife now, and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Your play did not end, my dear wife." She stirred a little.

His feet moved away to the door. His hands pushed, giving way to the morn light as he took his first steps in the shoes of a shepherd.

As he strode in a steady gait, smallfolk alike bowed to him; the show of respect soothed his pride. His confident steps slowly halted in front of the Village Elder.

"Hagar, find some men to search in the mountains for some iron veins."

"As you wish, m'lord." Hagar complied without hesitation.

Before Hagar could leave, Tywin said, "And get some men who know trades like blacksmithing and carpentering." His Lannister guard needed to be armed more than some ragtag cheap leather armour with better weapons. It was needed as his army would be a visible representation of his lordly status. They won't be seen as some recruited bandits.

"Now. Go." The Village Elder left with hurried steps.

"Ser Bjoern!"

"Y-Yes, m'lord!" His newly knighted sworn sword shadowed his every step until told otherwise by himself.

"Gather all men who didn't care about doing dirty deeds." He dismissed him with his glare alone.

"B-By your command, m'lord."

His village needed more manpower which he couldn't get through poaching off his neighbour nobles who were vassals under Count Beranz. Instead, he would let his bandits loose on some villages near him to build a situation where all would flee to Aldelen whom the Lord could defend against these bandits.

He smirked, feeling satisfied at the thought of dealing a heavy blow to his neighbours. Of course, he would need some allies soon enough. Fortunately, he got possible allies west from him. A little party of men to hunt down bandits who plagued them would endear himself to the nobles in the West. A show of force as much as a gesture of goodwill.

Tywin did not need to be friends with close neighbours, after all, border disputes were common which meant the farther the ally was, the better for him. Although, not too far or it wouldn't make much sense to gain an ally who couldn't even get the troops in time to support him.

He heard the heavy footsteps of his bandits. The wait wasn't long before ten men assembled. The cheap misfit leather armour fitted the roles they would play. A coincidence which he liked.

"Do you all have kin?" All of them shook their heads. He stopped the smirk which tried to resurface on his face because, with that knowledge in place, he could just arrange their deaths after the usefulness of these tools was gone. On the other hand, a group of bandits would be very useful in his ambitions. For every precise tool, you need to have a hammer to force the opposition.

"Good. Your task is simple. Create chaos in the close villages. Cause them to flee to Aldelen. Discretion is important. Do you all understand?" Some looked wide-eyed, thinking him as some honourable fool. At least, all nodded their assent.

He said, "Ser Bjoern, make it very clear to them that I do not want any involvement with my name."

"B-By your command, m'lord!" The gains would show themselves in no time.

Tywin turned his back to them and walked to the gathered smiths he could see not far away. He was at their attention as he neared their gathering. He saw them trying to stand straight like his growing Lannister guard at his attention. A surprise, yet welcomed. It felt good when the smallfolk respected him.

"M'lord." The leader of the group said.

After they finished bowing, he said, "How much iron do we have?"

"Not much raw, but the loot from the castle could be used to smelt new armour and weapons." He nodded at that as he already decided the use of the looted armour and swords.

"Smelt them into new swords and chainmail." His order was taken without question. "And I also want arrowheads made for our future archers."

"Yes, m'lord."

"Tell me your name." He said to the obvious leader of blacksmiths.

"Sigrid, m'lord." He would remember the name. He nodded as he said, "Very well, I want it as earlier as possible."

"As you wish, m'lord." Tywin glanced at the nearby children who played a mook fight against each other, imitating knights. The innocent of a child, thinking that knights were honourable protectors of the weak and especially dreaming to become them. Most would fail and become just bandits or some men-at-arms fighting and would die in the fields lonely.

At least they would die for him. For his ambition. For his cause. For his House. And in time for his children.

His look wandered to the little chit, his daughter, Mary, who apparently played the princess to be rescued by the knights. He scoffed at that notion. He would need to teach her the importance of her station. It was all and well to have friends, however, a lowborn as a friend was as useless as the shit marring the ground.

Yet he paused his thoughts. She wasn't really his daughter, but other nobles would think that. What would others say when they saw that she played in the mud with lowborn boys like some common whore found everywhere? His reputation would be heavily besmirched. He could forget the respect.

She would be brought to heel like a good useful pet. All in good time. He had time.

"Ser Daddy! Save me from the evil dragons!" His... daughter shouted. Ah, well, he would teach her the very first lesson of being a noble's daughter.

"You there! You will never touch her with your filthy hands. Do you understand?" He raised his voice at first, then lowered to a whisper at the end. The boys paled, even stumbled as they fell down on their bums. The fear was so visible in their body language as all boys nodded frantically.

"Oh! Ser Daddy transformed into an evil dragon! Protect me!" Mary did really try his patience once again.

As Tywin glared at her, he said, "Mary. You are now a noble. We do not play with filth."

She tilted her head to the side. "Do we make the rules of the village?" He did not really know where she wanted to go with that, but he nonetheless answered her, "Of course, we do. House Lannister rules Aldelen."

His daughter smiled too smugly for his taste. "That just means I can make the rule where I can play with whom I want!"

Tywin of the House Lannister, Lord of Aldelen, stared incredulously at his daughter who bested him with her wits alone.

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Author's Note:

Well, Tywin Lannister would actually kill Brynhildr and her daugther if he didn't discover the ring.

The thing that showed his really complex character is his psychological issues that being his deeply ingrained trauma of his father's failure. His childhood was influenced by his father's mismanagement. He feared being mocked like his father was for his mistresses.

Every character, if it is realistic portrayed, has flaws, be it hidden or totally obvious ones. Sometimes we can spot them miles away, other times they are so hidden that even we are fooled by the carefully crafted mask.

On the other hand, every character, even the stubborn ones, can change without the help of the author (in other words: a natural character development). Of course, Tywin Lannister did not die young at all. But that's another discussion about the brain and the 'soul'.

Well, I welcome a discussion about this topic, if you have some thoughts to share, well nothing will stop you. PM me or review. Choose wisely.