A Queen of Hearts

Prologue: 18 Years Previous:

18 YEARS PREVIOUS:-

"Mi'lord. I'm sorry, your wife is gone."

Tyrion Lannister stared down at his wine, ignoring the young squire's calls. His love, his life. She was gone, lost to the Seven-Gods. There had been no-one like Alethea Tallhart. The most loving wife, the most caring daughter. The Imp shed a tear before standing and following the blonde squire. In a room, closed off from the remainder of the castle; lay Alethea Lannister. Her brunette hair cascading down her sharp shoulders. Many of the castle's healers scurried around her, all silent and weeping. A cry echoed around the room. The healers stopped and stared, at the Imp then back to Alethea.

"W-What happened?" Tyrion murmured, his eyes fixated on the motionless Alethea. One elderly healer stepped forward.

"The process was too much, mi'lord. She fought well. Lady Alethea was a fighter." She spoke soothingly. Unable to speak, Tyrion moved around the healer and grasped his wife's limp hand. He clutched it tight and held it close to his heart.

"Oh my darling..."

A hand fell upon Tyrion's shoulder, causing the small man to jump and release his wife's hand. Maester Pycelle stood taller then most and peered down at the youngest Lannister, a small bundle in his larger arms. Tyrion's breath caught as he glanced upon his child; a girl. He had a girl. The old man placed the newest addition in Tyrion's arms and stepped back, the others in the room stopping to watch. Nobody ever thought Tyrion Lannister would settle down. Especially his own father. Then he'd met Alethea, one day in Lannisport. Alethea had fallen for Tyrion as fast as he for her. Some questioned the marriage at first, especially Jamie and Cersei. Yet Alethea and Cersei became close friends, something that Tyrion was glad for.

"She's beautiful, mi'lord." One healer breathed quietly. A murmur echoed around the chamber, all agreeing with the small healer. Tyrion, however, could not bring himself to look up. His eyes trained on the small girl, bundled in his small arms. Her blue eyes bright, piercing and defiantly, those of a pure Tallhart. Blonde tufts escaped her newborn scalp; Lannister blonde. Tyrion chuckled quietly, his daughter was beautiful. Maester Pycelle stepped forwards once more.

"Last words, mi'lord... Of your wife. She took a peek at her daughter and spoke softly..." Tyrion urged the man to continue.

"And? What did my wife say?"

"Alexandra, mi'lord; that's all."

Tyrion smirked at his late-wife's blatantly, she always had a way with words. He then peered down at his new-born daughter and smiled sadly.

"Alexandra Lannister. Protector of Humanity."