( Tywin POV )
Tywin Lannister was a grim man, thin as a bowstring but hard and sharp as flint, he was tall and whip-like with a willowy head of straw-blind hair and muscular wirey arms. All built to support a clever mind and a dour face. Tywin's brow was typically wrinkled, not by age, but by the grim countenance he maintained at nearly all times. Altogether, he was a fearsome, terrifying man with a dark reputation for destroying his enemies. The grim lion of Casterly Rock, a newly forged Lord Paragon and Hand of the King who had wiped out the Tarbecks root and stem and drowned the Reynes in their holes.
Oddly, Tywin's expression at the moment was not half so grim. Instead, he wore a pained look, his green eyes glimmered with concern, not greed, and his lips spoke not a bitter word, but stewing in silent consternation he kept silent.
Or perhaps it was not strange at all, for Tywin Lannister, along with being a hard and dangerous man, was also a father, and a man who loved his wife. That was why he had taken leave of his duties as Hand to return to Casterly Rock. He had not missed the birth of his first two children, he would not miss the birth of his third.
His hand gripped Joanna's, albeit not as tightly as she gripped his. She was such a slender thing, beautiful and bold with her golden hair and green eyes, so much like his own. His love for her was deep, and it pained him how frequently he was not at her side for the sake of his duty to Aerys.
Just as it pained him now that she clung to his hand for a pain he could not spare her.
"Hah… hah… hah… i-its coming-I-I can feel it!" Joanna groaned, soldiering through the pain with the force of will that he loved so dearly.
He thought to speak but his tongue caught in his throat. He had been no help speaking when Jamie and Cersei were born and embarrassed himself in the act. It was something Joanna had teased him over for years, in private of course. Regardless, he stilled his tongue as his wife braced herself against him, her legs straining and kicking against the handmaidens who were helping with the birth.
Then Tywin's lovely, wonderful, always composed wife Joanna began to scream, and the minutes stretched to hours in his mind. The wailing, the pain, the physical exertion of birth. He could shoulder none of it. He could simply be there, and as the seconds ticked by, marching with the furious drumbeat of his heart, Tywin Lannister's second son was born.
Some hours later, in the exhausted privacy of their own chambers, Joanna would confess that it hadn't actually been as painful as the twins had been, though it hadn't much seemed that way to Tywin at the time. Pressed further Joanna would admit that she was simply far more comfortable screaming out her pain in his presence now.
He found that comforting.
In the moment though, he was just relieved that she was alright. Once the baby was out, she managed to calm down quite a bit, and once the fluids and such had been dealt with, Joanna was well enough to be introduced to her second son.
Born late, and heavy he was a pudgy little newborn, with a thin fuzz of blond on his head and a pink birthmark, right in the upper middle of his forehead.
Immediately, Tywin felt an I'll premonition that this son of his would-be mocked someday for that birthmark. The fingers of his free hand tightened slightly into a fist, but he soon let go of the thought. Now was not a time for such things, especially as Joanna laughed and ordered the servant to bring him to her. A mother's power was a wondrous thing when she shook off her fatigue so quickly, eager to hold her newborn son.
The babe for his part didn't cry, but instead seemed confused, gaa-ing and goo-ing and making all sorts of sounds as if he was surprised to have a mouth. The babe blinked and wormed its tiny arms around, blinking open bloodshot green eyes from pale pink skin and looking around feverishly. The jade spheres of his eyes showed with a bright intelligence as if longing to take in the whole world. That is, right up until the boy was passed into Joanna's arms and promptly fell asleep as if it was a candle snuffed out with two fingers. The boy's soft snores followed shortly after, accompanied by Joanna's giggling.
Tywin found it slightly amusing, a vanishingly rare smile crossed his lips as he took ij the scene. His darling wife cradling yet another child, and a second son at that! Healthy, whole, and full of life, what else could he smile at if not this?
Joanna turned to him as she cradled the baby, tilting her head. "I know we've discussed names before, but I must be truthful, he does not seem to me a Willem."
Tywin snorted. "You know my opinion, so long as you don't try to name him after my father-"
"Don't darken your thoughts now husband… hmm, he's far too cheerful-looking to have your name, though he does have your hair… what about Callum?" Joanna interjected quickly, following up with her question.
"Callum?" Tywin rolled the word about in his mouth. It was a cheerful name, in truth. It reminded him of Kevan's name a bit, and that was no bad thing. His brother was a good man, and competent. He was unsuited for rule but as his right hand, he could do far worse. With any luck perhaps Callum could likewise help young Jaime. "I like the name. It's suitable for a second son."
Joanna smiled at that, before cradling the boy close to her breast. "Then Callum it is… Callum…" he realized that she 2as drifting off to sleep just as their son had, and he had to resist the urge to smile again.
Aye, fearful and dangerous lord or not, fatherhood was a wonderful thing.
...
Chronicle of the Targaryen Dynasty in the Seven Kingdoms
Maester Willem
268 AC - Sixth Moon
Lady Joanna Lannister, the wife of Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, gives birth to Callum Lannister, the Hand's third child and Second Son. A feast is held at Casterly Rock, and shortly thereafter, King Aerys's court returns to King's Landing from Casterly Rock where they had been staying since the last moon of 267 AC…