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❝ Aunt Cali ? ❞   He is nearly a man grown, five-and-ten already  Her Pavetta is of an age with him and she is already a wife, and going to be a mother !  but he cannot help the childish sense of uncertainty that fills him :  He has never cared for change, and the whole world seems to be changing around him. With Pavetta keeping secrets from him, with her marrying a man so much older than her, and Calanthe herself remarrying, everything in his life feels suddenly unstable.  ( He is no longer sure where he fits among them ).

❝ I would have told you, if I’d known. She tells me things, usually, but she didn’t tell me about him, I swear. Please don’t be cross with me. ❞

Also Ned Stark: Robert's bastards look like him but his legitimate children all look like his wife! Clearly the answer is that they aren't his!

His mother is little more to him than vague memories of a voice and golden curls, and handwriting he reads in letters. She is practically a stranger, for all that they are linked by blood. Tommen remembers that he missed her, that he wept, when he was small and they had just arrived, because she was not with them and he was afraid. But now he has made a life here, and now her visit is an intrusion upon that which is now normal. Nonetheless, he has been sent to greet their esteemed guest at the dock and escort her to the palace, a gesture of respect and kindness before she meets Narnia’s four monarchs.

He knows her as soon as she steps off the boat. For all that his memories are blurry, her attire and attitude give her away as the famed lioness, not to mention how strong the resemblance is between Myrcella and their mother.

❝ Welcome, my lady mother, ❞  he calls, bowing politely as he has been taught,  ❝ I hope the journey here treated you well. I don’t know if you recognize me... ❞

❝ I don’t believe you. ❞

THE WORDS are spit in the knight’s direction, as though they are poison, as if they burn his tongue. There is little of the famed Lannister coldness in him, none of Jaime’s callousness or Cersei’s capacity for cruelty. And yet his eyes are cold, like chips of emerald, glittering and hard, unyielding.

❝ Even if you couldn’t claim me, claim us --  ❞   For it was not only him that had been deprived of any paternal affection, but his siblings too :   Myrcella, with her blinding smiles that she worked to make look effortless, and Joffrey; Joffrey who had been so lonely, so desperate for a father’s love that it had twisted and corrupted him, fed the monster that lived in his chest.  

❝ Who would have ever thought twice about a childless uncle doting on his sister’s children ?  Who would have dared object to you, of all people, doing as you pleased ?  Mother might have been a convenient excuse, but don’t try to lie to me or fool yourself. If you were distant from us, it was because you wanted to be. ❞

Anger feels good, now, feels righteous. It burns out all the sorrow and hurt that lingers in his heart despite his disgust. He wants to scream, to strike out, to HURT Jaime the way he has been hurting for so long, unable to show it for the sake of reputation or dignity or any of the other reasons he has suppressed everything he has ever felt.