#(Ps- I love duncan the tall)

[springs-hurts]

Our 'Egg' Aegon V Targareyn is doing everything he can to change my heart and I've started liking him and also his sons(except jahareys ig) so Aegon VI you better be a Targ cause I kinda like you as well and support targ restoration (no, not really)

[thedeviltohisangel]

How The Night Changes//3//Out Of My Head

 Duncan and Olivia go public.

Smut warning

For the other parts go to my URL /writing, drop any future wishes for these two in my ask box or DMs!

Olivia watched from the sidelines of the briefing room as her mother deftly avoided almost every single question that was sent her way in the manner only she knew how. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes knowing that at least a few cameras were glancing at her every once in awhile.

Once her mother had had enough of the press pool, she allowed her secretary to retake the podium and joined her daughter as they exited the room.

“I would like you to take on some new tasks, Olivia.”

“I have enough on my plate with my new dance company. I don’t know how much more my bandwidth can stretch.” Her mother stopped walking so the entourage around them stopped as well.

“A moment with my daughter please.” The crowd dispersed save for the one agent that simply moved a couple steps away. “You are not allowed to criticize me, Olivia. I need you to take on the traditional roles of the First Lady. I cannot be both and you are the only person I trust.” She allowed to eyes to roll now.

“You are not my ruler, mother.”

“I am your president and I am your mother.”

“In that order?” Olivia questioned with a smirk. “You want me to pick china and visit schools, fine. But just know the owed favors are stacking up.” Clare smiled at her daughter with a knowing a glint to her eyes. She had no one to blame but herself for the cutting tone her daughter’s voice could take. As much as Olivia would hate to ever admit it, she had been made in her mother’s image. She was as much a part of the Underwood rise to power as Francis had been. Even if Olivia wasn’t an Underwood.

The next day, Olivia found herself at Fort McNair to reveal a plaque dedicating a library to her father. She held her smile and handshake firmly for as long as it took for the cameras to stop flashing. The press had seemed thrilled to find that she was going to have a more public persona as First Daughter and Olivia’s newly appointed assistant informed her that morning that chatter about her fashion had caused one of her favorite boutique website to crash leading up to her first official appearance. It was a boost to her confidence as she had stood pacing before the dedication, mumbling her speech over and over again even though there had been no need to memorize it. Olivia was constantly thinking of worst case scenarios and coming up with her contingency plans. Her father had instilled in her that, in case of emergency, save yourself first.

“Heading home, miss?” Henry, her head of security, asked as he shut the car door behind him.

“No.” He didn’t need elaboration on where that meant she wanted to go. Ever since Duncan had gifted her a key a few weeks ago, Olivia had been spending more time at his apartment than her own. He had offered her a drawer, some space in his closet but when he saw just how much stuff she was transitioning over to his place he quickly purchased another dresser and had a contractor over to discuss a closet expansion. Annette had asked him, last time she was over, why he had a collection of Bath & Body Works candles in his linen closet and Duncan had barely stuttered out that he was getting into the Christmas mood early this year. It was getting more and more difficult for them to attend public events separately and after the last charity ball when Duncan threatened a man that if he ever touched Olivia like that again he’d lose his hand, they decided that their domestic bubble would have to burst. He promised he’d devise a perfect way to do it but Olivia had also given the strategy some thought. A lot of thought.

She called his name as she slipped her black leather boots off by the door but he didn’t answer so she assumed he was still at work. With a deep sigh, she made her way into his kitchen intent on finding the bottle of wine they had opened the night before but hadn’t had time to finish because of the way his hand was creeping up her thigh under the table.

A piece of paper on his island caught her attention and she opened it to find his blunt handwriting.

Olivia,

You’ve left before I could wish you luck for today and assure you that you’re going to kick ass today. With any crazy thing your mother decides to throw at you. I promise, my little sweet pea. Just don’t let the new media attention get to your head. I’ll always be here to remind you that you’re not Meghan Markle but you are more than a princess to me. You are my Queen and I your loyal follower.

Forever in love with you,

Your donut

PS May dropped off an entire green bean casserole for you in case things didn’t go well today and you need comfort before I am home.

Olivia wiped the tear that was gently tracing it’s way down her face at his kind words. She doesn’t know why she was lucky enough to have the boy who kissed her behind a tree in South Carolina when they were eight grow up into a man who made her wildest dreams come true. The boy who she had a crush on grew up to be the man she loved and loved her back.

She brought the bottle and a bowl of casserole sinfulness into the bathroom with her, undressing and applying a watermelon scented mask to her face before dipping into Duncan’s underused tub.

Duncan walked through the door to his apartment, the SUV parked across the street from his building alerting him to her presence even before the ankle boots discarded by the door did. He draped his suit jacket over the tall chairs sitting at his breakfast bar, letting his AP watch drop to the counter as he made his way to the only door with light slipping from underneath.

“Hi, Donut,” she murmured as her eyes stayed closed, showing no signs of removing herself from the tub of relaxation and self-care she had nestled herself in.

“Something happen today that didn’t make the news?” He had been following her day as closely as he could from his office, watching her speech as she gave it, reading up on articles after the fact. “You sounded wonderful and intelligent. Everyone from the Times to fashion blogs were praising you.” She turned just her head in order to look at him.

“I felt like a little puppet. Selena wouldn’t let me write my own speech. Jennifer burnt me trying to steam my shirt while I was wearing it and didn’t even bother to apologize. Colonel Maysel said it was a let down the President wasn’t there. I sounded perfect, Duncan, but I felt like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.” She looked away from him again. Olivia wasn’t sure if she would ever feel comfortable being vulnerable in front of him but she was trying. He loved her and it was daunting to feel less than perfect when he was constantly looking at her like she was.

“First, let me help you wipe that pink stuff of your face so I can kiss you properly.” Duncan was methodical in everything he did and the first step into making her feel better, in his mind, was to remind her that he loved her. He pulled a washcloth from the vanity and sat down next to the tub, dipping it into the warm water before gently smoothing it over her skin.

“I’m sorry for dumping on you. No one asked me how I was today. I haven’t had a chance to talk about it until you got home.” His heart fluttered at the notion that his apartment was home to her. That it was a place they inhabited together and was the foundation for the life he hoped they continued to build together.

Once he was satisfied with how much of her face mask he had gotten off, his lips pecked hers quickly at first before she leaned over the edge further in order to urge him closer to her. When Duncan felt the need to come up for air from kissing her, he held her forehead against his and kept their eyes locked.

“You are in the innermost circle of the most powerful person in the world. You have power, Olivia, and yes today maybe didn’t go the way you were hoping but the potential is there. Don’t let anyone sideline you. Use the platform your father and mother gave you and make everyone regret they ever doubted you. Show everyone around you that your mother isn’t the only Underwood with power.” Her gaze shifted to the wall behind him as the gears started cranking at an inhuman speed inside of her head.

“My turn,” she whispered. Duncan nodded.

“You’ve done so much to help them, Olivia. Prove you’re so much more than just their asset. You’re the fucking centerpiece.” Her eyes snapped back to his.

“Our turn.” It was the first time she ever saw a look of confusion sweep across his face. “Think about it. My mom, your mom. Your uncle. We’ve both been their assets for our whole lives. I’ve gone above and beyond to get my parents what they have and where has that gotten me? You...You are the most intelligent, driven man I’ve ever met and where is your output going? Into a shared pot that you get almost none of. We’ve hidden in their shadows, willingly, for so long-”

“We reclaim the light,” he breathed, finishing her thought for her.

“We’ve been so nervous of them finding out about us but we take our insecurity and make it our power. We get out there first, we start and steer the narrative. For our benefit.”

“I’ve never been more fucking turned on in my life.” Duncan was strained against his pants, standing up in order to remove them and his shirt before helping Olivia rise from the tub. There was no time to get to the bedroom with the way the blood was thumping in his head, telling him to fulfill his most basic instinct of loving her and claiming her.

She pulled him down on top of her so her back was on the shag rug, helping his briefs down with her feet and not at all surprised when he sprung free already slick and hard.

He moved to kiss her chest and to begin working his way down to the apex of her thighs when she pushed him just far enough for their roles to be reversed, her straddling him.

“I’ll let you worship me all day tomorrow. Now I just want to fuck you.” She sank down onto him as a string of expletives fell out of his mouth among his breathless moans and pants. He knew that eventual the girl that was obsessed with the color blush and tulle and making vanilla extract from scratch would return to him but for now he was going to enjoy his most sacred fantasy he used on nights without her. Her hips moved with him inside of her with an ethereal grace he had only ever known her to possess. His hand twisted into her hair, giving him access to her neck and something to ground himself as his climax started to build.

“Fuck, Olivia. Slow down,” he panted as he involuntarily bucked up to meet her with each pulse.

“Hold on, Duncan. Come with me.” Her hand moved from where it had been cupping his face to her clit and Duncan surprised himself by not finishing right then and there at the sight of her touching herself.

“Dreams do come true,” he whimpered into her neck as her own breaths came quicker and quicker before the two of them were cascading over the edge of ecstasy together. They stayed chest to chest, catching their breath, Duncan pressing feather light kisses over every inch of her face that he could reach.

“You dream about me touching myself?” she whispered into the silence they had surrounded themselves in. He chuckled.

“After than time in Wales, fuck yeah. I feel like a little boy who still has a massive crush on you and can’t help but remind myself you’re really with me sometimes. It was an inopportune time to say something so cringey-”

“You had a crush on me?” she giggled.

“I’ll start tickling you,” he threatened which only served to make her laugh more prolonged. Duncan loved that sound. The sound of her happiness. She had been told for so long that her happiness was secondary to the power and prominence of those around her and he was certain he would never let her feel that way again. “How about we order a bunch of those rolls from the bakery down the street and watch Pretty Woman until we fall asleep?” Olivia nodded excitedly, carbs and Julia Roberts sounding like the perfect night to her.

“And we can plot how we will take back our throne,” she replied dramatically.

“I thought you said my jaw was your sturdy throne?” She merely hummed as she kissed him once more. Tomorrow Olivia was stepping into the light and she was only hoping she didn’t get burned.

The next day when Olivia arrived at a local elementary school to participate in their pretend election in honor of election day, Duncan was with her. Hand in hand they strolled into the school and visited the classroom where kids had written letters to her mother to celebrate her being the first female president.

They hadn’t missed the gaps and whispers at how she had company this time nor did they miss the heightened flashes when he had whispered into her ear causing her to blush and smile. Duncan was acutely aware of the fact that his phone had not stopped vibrating since he had stepped out of the car to the lens of cameras.

Olivia sat at a tiny desk next to a little girl who was coloring a picture of an American flag. “Is that your boyfriend?” the little girl giggled as she pointed her crayon at Duncan who was watching silently from the side. Olivia looked directly into the camera as she spoke, imagining it was her mother.

“Yes, he is. And I love him very much.”

[chikabiddy]

Chapter 3

A/N - Part 3 of my Veronica Mars fic. I hope you enjoy it! As before, I have no beta so all mistakes are mine alone. :)

Here is part 1 Here is part 2

ps - this will become a LoVe fic eventually.

Maybe I can skip my last class, get to Veronica’s early… Logan’s foot tapped rapidly against the linoleum floor. More than anything he hadn’t wanted to come to school at all; he wanted to stay in his car outside Veronica’s apartment and wait until she was awake. Being at school was pointless today; he had been unable to focus on anything. Unfortunately, his lack of focus didn’t make the day go any faster. The clock seemed to have a personal vendetta with him and refused to move more than a couple minutes between each time he checked. His eyes darted back to the clock: still forty minutes left until the last class of the day.

           “Dude, what’s up with you? That’s the fifth time you’ve checked the clock.” Duncan gave Logan a suspicious look. Logan raised his eyebrow at him.

           “I’m surprised you noticed,” he responded. “You’ve been particularly unobservant recently.”

           “Just because I don’t make a big deal out of it, doesn’t mean I don’t notice it.” Duncan’s eyes dropped to the floor, then flit back up to meet Logan’s eyes. “I always know when something’s up with you, man.”

           “It’s not a big deal, DK. Just not really interested in whatever lame school spirit crap Ms. Dent is on about this week.”

           “Sure, man.” Duncan clapped him on the back before turning back to his computer.

Logan stole another glance at the clock. Not even a minute had passed. He sighed and tried to focus on his computer. Whether he cared about the assignment or not, he needed a distraction. He still hadn’t decided whether to ditch out or not, but he wasn’t sure Sheriff Mars would even let him in the door if Logan got there before school was supposed to be over. Sighing, he resigned to finishing out the school day, figuring doing so would buy him a little more favor from the Sheriff. He tried to shake the memory of Veronica’s phone call from his head and read his assignment for the third time. Something about the girl’s cross-country team scoring well in the first three meets of the year; he really wasn’t interested at all, but he was able to distract his brain enough to relax. He finished the article with the bell and turned it in before he decided there was no way he would be able to suffer through another hour. Hoping the Sheriff would be understanding – or maybe he will be at the office, he does still have cases to work – Logan ditched out and headed to Veronica’s.

********

           “Veronica?” her dad called from his room. Veronica was laying on the couch, one hand over the side scratching Backup’s head.

           “Yeah, dad?”

           “I’m going to head over to the office for a couple hours, try to close out some cases and such. Pick up your car from the station.” Veronica twitched nervously, but Keith didn’t seem to notice. “Will you be okay on your own?”

           Veronica shifted up to a sitting position, wincing slightly. She was, mostly, fine but any time she moved her head reminded her she wasn’t back to one hundred percent. “Yeah, of course. You go keep the Mars office running. I’m fine, really.”

           Her dad had walked out to the living room as she was speaking, and now looked down at her. His eyes were soft, and she could see his concern. “Really, dad. I promise.”

           He nodded. “Alright. Remember, Logan is coming by. I should be back before he gets here, but don’t feel like you have to talk to him if you aren’t up for it. He can wait, until you are comfortable.” Keith gave her a soft smile and turned to go.

            “Hey, before you go,” Veronica called, “where did you put my camera? I know my phone’s a goner, but I was hoping to download those pictures I took yesterday and email them to you. Help you close out that case.”

           “Veronica, you need to rest. I don’t want you working cases. Not now, and not later.”

           “Well either way, I need to know where my camera is. You can take the SD card, if you’re worried.”

           Her dad gave her a hard look, then sighed: “I’ll bring it in from your car, but I don’t want you working on that case. You understand?”

           “Wait, my camera wasn’t in the alley?” Veronica’s voice shook as she flashed back to the events of the previous day. “I didn’t leave it in the car. I took it with me.”      

           Her dad frowned, his brow furrowed. “I wasn’t looking for it, but it definitely wasn’t close. I would’ve seen it.”

           “No,” Veronica groaned, dropping her head to her hands. There goes any evidence I had of who assaulted me. Dad is going to kill me.

           “Don’t worry, Veronica. I can stake out our mark again. And I’ll go check the alley again. Maybe I missed it.”

           Veronica gave her dad a soft smile. “Thanks, dad. Now get out of here. Those desperate housewives won’t wait forever.” Veronica winked and waved him out the door.

“I love you, Veronica.”

“I love you, too. Dad.”

Veronica lay back gently, raising her hands to her head. The medication she had taken earlier had taken the edge off her headache, just enough to ease the nausea, but not enough for her to forget about the pain. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to focus on what she remembered of the night before. If her camera was gone, she’d have to identify the men from last night by memory. Not my favorite, but it’ll do. She eased up from the couch and stepped over Backup on her way to her room. Given the extent to which the marks from the previous night had gone to stop her from having evidence of the meeting, Veronica figured the encounter must have been important. Luckily not important enough to kill a witness…. Just confiscate the proof.

She pulled up a new file on her computer, determining the case was going to get a bit more complicated, and therefore require better tracking. She began by detailing all she remembered from the night before: the location, time, and events before her dad had found her. Deputy Sacks had come to the hospital to get a statement, her dad called the police as soon as he found her but didn’t wait for an ambulance and took her straight to the hospital. She had kept her statement purposefully vague, claiming not to remember much of what happened but made sure to emphasize she was sure it had nothing to do with the mark she had been trailing for her father’s case. Veronica hated to lie to her father, though she wasn’t too concerned about her false statement as she could always claim to remember more should the need arise, but she knew her dad would keep her under constant guard if he knew the truth of the evening.

Once she finished detailing the attack, she moved on to provide descriptions of the third man she saw that night. Weevil gave her pictures of the two marks, so there was no need to write up descriptions of them, though she did attach their pictures to her file. But the third man was new, and she probably didn’t have any pictures of him anymore. Veronica was sure her camera was missing because they took it, and she was sure she wasn’t getting it back. That’s going to be impossible to replace. I’ll have to dip into my college fund. With a sigh she began describing the third man the best she could remember. She closed her mind, thinking back: tall, slightly taller than average. Maybe 6 feet, or a little more? Brown, curly hair. Pale, sunken face with shifty eyes. Boney fingers…

Her musings were interrupted by a knock on her door. A glance at the clock told her school wasn’t out yet, which ruled out Wallace. She clenched her jaw, frustrated but resigned, and made her way slowly to the door. Opening it only a crack, she looked at Logan standing on her door step. She took a moment to look him over: one hand kept flitting to the back of his neck, then to the ends of his sleeves, and his eyes were cast down to the ground. But his feet were firmly planted, stable and ridged. Veronica looked back to his face and met his eyes.

“Logan.” She pulled the door open wide enough to lean on the door frame. His eyes darted to the bruise on her jaw and she saw him face harden.

“Um… hey.” He met her eyes again.

She waited for him to continue, but he just stared. “My dad said you were coming by after school…” Veronica let the words hang in the air, partly accusation, partly question. Logan’s lips twitched downward and he dropped his gaze. Shifting his weight back slightly, he reached out and fidgeted with the ends of his sleeves. Veronica groaned inwardly and tried to remember what her dad had told her: Logan helped her, without reason. She did want to know why. Pushing the door open she tried to ease the tensions, if only slightly. “You wanna come in?”

********

           Veronica pushed open the door and invited him in. The tightness in his chest, which had formed as soon as he pulled up to the apartments, lessened ever so slightly.

“Yeah, thanks.”

           Logan took in the cramped surroundings of her apartment as she walked over and lowered herself onto the couch. Her face pinched, and her brow furrowed as she sat, and the tightness in Logan’s chest came back with a vengeance. He needed to look anywhere but her face, anywhere but at that ugly, purpling bruise. Every time he looked at her he remembered her scream, and every time a new wave of fear and rage crashed through him. Turning his back to her, he studied the kitchen and hall. He assumed the bedrooms were down the hallway but given the nature of the rest of the apartment he could guess there wasn’t much to see that way. His lips pulled down again and he was surprised when he felt of pang of sadness at seeing her new home. It was so much less than what she had before.

           “So, do you want to talk or just creepily check out my apartment?” Veronica cut into his thoughts. He turned back around but kept his eyes low. Away from her face.

           “Uh, yeah.” He walked over and sat in the chair next to the couch, eyes on Backup sitting at Veronica’s feet. Reaching down, he let the dog smell his hand and began scratching his head, any excuse not to look up.

           After a few seconds he heard Veronica shifting on the couch. “So…” she said, obviously waiting for Logan to say something. He finally looked up but focused on her eyes, refusing to let his gaze wander.

           “Sorry, I just… I just wanted to see for myself that you are okay.” Her eyes were hard, and her arms were crossed over her chest as she sat back on the couch away from him.

           “I’m fine,” she said shortly. Then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as if trying to center herself. She let her arms fall to her sides and rested her hands on her lap. “I’m sorry I called you…”

           Logan choked and balled his hands into fists. What? She’s sorry she called me? Sorry she got help? He wanted to ask, demand she tell him why she would be sorry that he could help her, but Veronica put her hand up and shook her head. His protest died in his throat. She would rather have been out there alone than have called me…

           She continued: “What I mean is, I’m sorry I made you worry. It wasn’t really that big a deal…”

           Logan sprung up from the chair, muscles tense and lips pulled into a sneer. “Not that big a deal?” He could tell he was shouting now, and Veronica had shrunk back away from him. Backup let out a low growl. He flexed his fingers and balled them back into fists but lowered his voice.

           “I heard him, Veronica. And I heard you scream.” He started pacing, and Veronica stayed silent. “And I talked to your dad. I saw your dad, before he found you and this morning. I, god Veronica, I saw his face. Don’t try telling me ‘it wasn’t that big a deal’” His last words came out a growl, one that almost matched Backup’s. He stared at Veronica hard, every muscle in his body tensed for a fight.

           “And what do you care, anyway?” The question was soft, but forceful.

           “Excuse me?”

           “You heard me.” Veronica met his eyes, hers as sharp as ice, arms a barrier crossed between them. “I said what do you care? It’s not like you’ve done anything but try to hurt me this past year. Are you mad someone else got a turn?”

           Logan took an involuntary step back, mind reeling with the implications of what she was saying. “But I never… that was never…”

           “Oh, save it, Logan. I appreciate you getting my dad, but I would’ve been fine if you hadn’t. And if you cared at all, even a little, this past year would never have happened.”

           He was stunned. Sure, he’d been a jackass this past year, he could comp to that. But I never would have wanted this. I never would have wanted her hurting. His mind flashed to some of the more unseemly pranks he’d pulled, or let happen. Sure you didn’t, he scoffed at himself, you wanted her to hurt as much as you do. Just not this way. But he knew he didn’t want her to hurt, not now, not like this, not any way. Not ever again. For what felt like the hundredth time in the last 24 hours, Logan crumpled. He dropped into the chair as his knees gave out and all the strain his muscles were under left. He felt weak and empty.

           “I’m sorry, Veronica,” he whispered. She didn’t respond.

[joannalannister]

I wanted to speak briefly about Tywin and knighthood, and Tywin’s love for Joanna as a chivalric romance, and how Tywin’s refusal to marry again is a sign of his devotion. 

@racefortheironthrone​ spoke recently about chivalric romance: “In chivalry, devotion to your liege lord is a sign of virtue; in chivalric romance, devotion to your love is likewise” [x]. 

Now, Tywin isn’t an archetype of chivalry. Tywin is just one of many examples of GRRM’s critique of knighthood. Knights revered throughout Westeros follow all the forms of knighthood, but it’s something hollow. Outwardly men like Tywin are all "sunlight on bright steel and gilded spurs” but inside they’re rotten.

Tywin was clearly not one of GRRM’s True Knights as defined by Duncan the Tall. Clearly.

But I think Tywin considered himself to be the consummate knight. (Tywin is a medieval poster boy in a lot of ways, and for all that GRRM got wrong about the Middle Ages, he got Tywin so right. So horrifyingly right.)

Knights are supposed to be brave, and Tywin never turned down a war. He was devoted to the crown, despite all the slights he suffered under Aerys. Tywin believed himself to be just, because he had a warped value system. Protecting women, children, and innocents? Well, when your definition of “people”=“Lannisters” and everyone else is somehow “less” and barely registers on your radar, if at all, then “women, children, and innocents” becomes a very select group, and sure, Tywin would tell you he did his damnedest to protect them. (He would say that even after marrying Cersei to a rapist, because in his mind he did right by Cersei, getting her the best marriage possible.)

So! I think Tywin practiced his own crimson-and-gold brand of chivalry and that Tywin/Joanna can be viewed as a chivalric romance, of a knight and his lady love. 

Now, I’ve spoken often and at great length about #tywin and prostitutes, but I don’t think Tywin’s adultery diminishes his devotion to Joanna, at least from Tywin’s perspective. Indeed, I’ve argued previously that Tywin’s need for absolute secrecy in his liaisons was a sign of devotion to his lady wife. 

To all of Westeros, even to his closest family, Tywin projected the image of a husband who was utterly devoted to his wife. I think this was more than mere image, despite the prostitutes. Everything we’re told about Tywin’s love for his wife suggests to me that it transcended physical intimacy. (It would have to, given how Tywin and Joanna were so often separated for long periods throughout their marriage.) 

In GRRM’s own words, Tywin didn’t want to remarry after Joanna’s death. This to me suggests Tywin’s great loyalty to his wife, someone for whom Tywin felt an emotional / intellectual / spiritual connection with in my opinion.  

@racefortheironthrone had more to say about chivalric romance:

The woman, who ensnares a man via attraction and then worship from afar, is declared the man’s liege lord, which is then followed by a ritual rejection. The knight, being rejected, falls literally love-sick to the point of death (a symbolic punishment for his destabilizing, excessive lust), and must then do heroic deeds in order to prove himself to his lady (again, echoing a knight’s service to his liege lord).

Once he proves himself, things go either two ways. Either he gains favor, but the two remain chaste, which might lead to a happy ending. Or they consummate, in which case they have to die tragically.

“The woman [...] is declared the man’s liege lord” // “Lord Tywin Lannister ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but Lady Joanna ruled Lord Tywin.”

^^^This mirrors a feudal relationship, like a sworn sword’s devotion to his liege. 

“followed by a ritual rejection.” Well, I’ll be god-damned. (I wrote it and I didn’t even know wtf chivalric romance was at the time.)

“The knight, being rejected, [...] must then do heroic deeds in order to prove himself to his lady” // The War of the Ninepenny Kings, the Reyne-Tarbeck Rebellion, the Handship. (Tywin and Joanna were betrothed for years, but they did not marry until after Tywin became Hand.)

“Once he proves himself, [...] they consummate, in which case they have to die tragically.” // “He was not the same man after she died, Imp. The best part of him died with her.”

So anyways, I think there are elements of chivalric romance in what GRRM wrote of Tywin and Joanna’s relationship, and I’ve definitely expanded on those elements in my own fanfiction. 

PS - Further proof that A*erys can fuck off.