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raspberryfingers · 8 months ago

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A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 12)

A/N: this chapter is probably my favorite addition of the rewrite :)

WARNINGS: NSFW

Word Count: 5.6k

—————

I sighed as I watched the last of my luggage be loaded into the wagon. I had packed light, because hopefully this excursion would only take two weeks at most. Both Sansa and Loras had packed a bit more, however, for if all went well they would not be returning to King’s Landing.

It was so early in the morning that the sun had not yet risen, and the only people at the entrance courtyard of the Red Keep were the nightguards and the men accompanying us. I regretted that we had to leave so damned early, as I’d wanted to say goodbye to Tywin.

It made me rather sad, because I hadn’t a clue if he’d even remember me helping him to the Tower of the Hand when he woke up. His last memory of me might be the feast, and he would not see me again for two weeks.

“Are you alright?”

Feeling Ser Elias’ hand at my shoulder, I turned around and looked up at him with raised eyebrows. Processing what he’d said, I instantly nodded.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just rather anxious, I suppose. Quite a lot relies on this going right,” I said with a sigh, holding my arms and trying not to think about how much could go wrong on this trip. Elias nodded with understanding, removing his hand from me.

“I understand. However, know that if it should go wrong, it is not your fault. If you cannot wager peace, there’s not a soul on earth who would’ve been able to.”

“Yes, well, the peace agreement was also my idea.”

“And one that I consented to.”

Ser Elias and I turned our heads at the sound of another’s voice, and I was surprised to find Tywin approaching us. I instantly smiled, going over to him and meeting him halfway.

“How are you already awake? Do you feel alright?” I questioned, pressing my hand to his forehead and examining him. Even in the darkness he still looked quite miserable. There was no doubt in mind he’d already vomited at least once.

“I feel entirely awful, but I had to come see you off. I told my guards yesterday that they were to wake me early this morning with no exception,” he explained, reaching for my hand and holding it in his. The feeling sent goosebumps up my arm, and I was somewhat flattered by the fact that he was this ill and had still come all the way down here.

“Will you be alright getting back to the Tower of the Hand?” I asked, noting that he had no coat on over his shirt and pants, just a cloak. I was certain he intended to go back to sleep after this. I prayed he would, he desperately needed it.

“I will be fine. My head hurts quite terribly, that’s all. How are you feeling?” Tywin’s free hand came to my arm, and it made me oddly sentimental. I did not want to leave him.

“Nervous, but that’s to be expected. If I tell myself everything I told you, it helps me calm down. I’m rather convincing that way. I just need to focus on rationality instead of my nerves,” I told him, unable to resist the urge to crack a joke as I squeezed his hand. He smiled gently, not enough for anyone else to notice if they were looking.

“Well, you convinced me, and I had no qualms with the messier route. You are doing a good thing, remember that.”

“But… what if… what if things go horribly wrong, Tywin? What if I give Robb Stark his sister and two war prisoners with her? Then what?” I voiced my fears, for Tywin was the only person I felt comfortable voicing them to. He instantly shook his head, an entirely serious look on his face as he did.

“That is not going to happen. You will persuade the Young Wolf and you will end this war. You are capable of that, I am certain. And, in the impossible scenario that Robb Stark is utterly stupid and decides to take you hostage, I will call every last bannerman and come for you. I will be dead and rotting before any harm is ever done to you,” Tywin assured me, raising the hand on my shoulder to my cheek and holding eye contact as he said it. Somehow, his words were more comforting than I’d even thought possible.

“Oh Tywin…”

I embraced him then, my face pressed against his chest as I shut my eyes and just let him hold me. One arm wrapped around my torso, and the other hand came to my head, fingers intertwined with my hair. I could feel his breath on my scalp, and after a moment his lips too.

“You will return to me, (Y/N), safe and victorious. And when you do, I will hold you just like this. Do you understand?” Tywin whispered, pulling back a bit so he could look at me again. I nodded, giving him a frightened, desperate smile as though I was trying my hardest to believe his words. I needed him to be right.

He kissed my forehead then, and I wanted to sob. I had just barely admitted to being in love with him, but either way, knowing that I had to part with him for two weeks was impossible to accept.

“I’m going to miss you, Tywin,” I muttered, looking up at him solemnly. His lips parted, and he looked entirely shattered at my statement. He nodded, closing his eyes.

“I will miss you as well, dear girl.”

We stared at each other for a moment more, but Loras calling my name from across the courtyard made both of us look over. I sighed, knowing it was time for us to leave.

“I will see you in two weeks, Tywin. I will make sure of it,” I said, giving his hand one last squeeze before turning around and going up to my horse. I quickly mounted up, trying my hardest to make the aching go away.

The large gate to the Red Keep opened, and as our small group began to move out, I looked at Tywin one last time. He only stared, but it was reassuring all the same. The fear dissipated, and in its place came determination. Yes, I would see him in two weeks, and when I did, I would smile from ear to ear as I announced the end of a war.

—————

It had only been a few days since you’d left, but Tywin was already utterly miserable. He’d become accustomed to your visits in the morning before either of you had anything to do. It was a pleasant way to start his day, and without it he found himself somewhat aggravated. Now he found that it was hard to get work done without thinking about you or wondering where you were.

He had no idea if you were safe, or if you’d reached Robb Stark yet. He suspected not, but it was a small group and would allow you all to move quickly. Still, it irked him to not be 100% certain of your safety and wellbeing. He was glad you weren’t traveling in a wheelhouse, for that would’ve attracted far too much attention.

Sitting at his desk now, Tywin caught himself considering all these things. It was late morning, and he’d be having lunch soon. He could picture you doing the same, sitting with your brother and his wife. He tried not to think about the fact that Ser Elias was there with you too.

There was the frustration again. Tywin groaned as he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling hopelessly. It was a never ending cycle of missing you and wishing you were here, then onto thinking about whatever you might be doing, and finally remembering that Ser Elias was with you the entire time.

He knew that you were probably right, Ser Elias surely only saw you as a sister or a daughter, but how could Tywin not feel any jealousy at all? The man was six and a half feet tall, not to mention tremendously fit and good looking. It made the Old Lion miss his youth, for once upon a time he wouldn’t have felt insecure compared to a man like that.

Tywin sighed, blinking a few times as he considered just how badly he wished to have you all to himself. Gods, what would it be like to kiss you? To hold your cheek and feel the softness of your lips? He couldn’t even fathom it.

He thought back to the day at the inn, remembering how his breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you in the tub. He hadn’t even meant to look, for he’d never wanted to make you uncomfortable, but gods, you were beautiful.

Tywin hated the way that he thought about you, because he knew that whatever had happened to you as a girl had clearly made you wary of men and their intentions. He could not blame you, and yet somehow even he desired you. It made him feel disgusting, almost as though he was no better than the two soldiers whose tongues he’d cut off.

Of course, it was different. Those men had wanted to rape you, he wished to make love to you. The vision of it was only erotic because Tywin pictured you wanting him just as much as he wanted you. And, it was not as if desire was the thing he could feel when he thought of you. The affection and love had come first, then with it the lust.

It was odd, for he had fucked whores at various points in his life, but that was merely to relieve his lust. There had been no desire for any of those women, he had simply paid them to make him feel good. He never kissed them, either. But gods, he wanted to kiss you.

That was the difference, he guessed. When he pictured himself fucking you, it was imagining your moans that made his blood rush. Because yes, he could certainly think about how good it would feel to be inside of you, but it was not nearly as attractive as the thought of you being pleased by him. You would look so pretty that way.

Tywin sighed, lifting his head from the back of his chair and looking down to find what he already knew was there. The strain in his pants had grown uncomfortable as he’d allowed his imagination to run wild, and now he simply felt frustrated.

It had been quite some time since he’d requested a whore from the brothel. Normally just being around you left him content enough to simply touch himself when he grew aroused, but he felt quite insatiable now. Then again, he did not want to fuck a whore, he wanted to fuck you. And thus an idea sparked into his head.

Tywin reached for a blank sheet of parchment, instantly scratching down his instructions on it. He was sending for a whore, though not just any random one. He wanted a girl with your hair color, your eyes, and your height. He pictured every feature of yours perfectly in his head, discovering that if he’d wanted to he might’ve described you in exact detail. But no, the request must be general. Even then, it already was risky enough for him to be doing this.

Before he could think twice, the Lord Hand found himself finishing and sealing the letter. He would take it through the tunnel after he had eaten lunch, and that would be that. He expected a girl would be waiting in his chambers after supper. Somewhere deep down, Tywin knew it would be the last time that tunnel would ever be put to use. It was quite the relieving thought.

—————

Tywin was grateful to be back in his chambers, for he’d just told the king of your plan. True to his word, the Lord Hand informed his grandson about something he ought to know. Unfortunately, Joffrey had not taken well to the news. Tywin hadn’t expected anything less, hence why he’d waited to tell him until after you had left with Loras and Sansa.

But gods, that boy was cumbersome. So much so that Tywin had almost entirely forgotten about the request he’d given to the brothel earlier that day. Entering his bedroom, he was surprised to find a whore there waiting for him. She was still dressed, though only in a transparent fabric, and she had draped herself across the sofa.

Tywin froze as he took in her appearance. In terms of characteristics such as hair and skin, she matched you quite well, but in terms of actual features there was hardly a resemblance. Taking a deep breath, the Lord Hand told himself it was fine. He did not need to look at her face while fucking her, even if he had looked at yours in all his fantasies.

“My Lord,” the girl greeted, slowly sitting up and giving him a seductive smile. Tywin found that her boldness irked him. You were not timid, to be certain, but he’d found there were some respects in which you were surprisingly vulnerable, and this would certainly be one of them.

She stood from the sofa, striding toward him in a somewhat teasing manner, almost as if trying to trigger some sort of instinct. Standing before Tywin now, she began to undo his coat. He did not deny her, but he did not do anything to encourage her either.

With her face closer now, he noted that she was similar to you in age, probably in her mid-20s. That made him feel a bit better, at least. But still, when she smiled up at him it was almost aggravating. You did not smile like that. Yours was much prettier.

Tywin began to wonder if he even really wanted to have sex with this woman. She was not you, and you were all he wanted. But then again, he was still annoyed over the conversation with his grandson, and surely it couldn't hurt to blow off some steam this way.

“Would you like to undress me, my Lord Hand?” she asked with a giggle, completely removing his coat and his shirt. Tywin looked down at her, remaining silent for a moment.

“Undress yourself and go sit on the sofa,” he commanded, not a single hint of emotion in his voice as he did. The whore smiled and nodded, making quite a display of herself as she shed the thin gown off. She moved back to her original spot with a very seductive sway of her hips.

Tywin let himself admire her for a moment, for he couldn’t deny that she was attractive. She had spread her legs as she sat, giving him quite the view. He wished he could see you in such a position; it would be the prettiest painting he ever saw.

Slowly, Tywin removed his boots and then approached the woman. She sat a bit straighter with expectation, batting her eyelashes as she looked up at him. Again, he found himself thinking of you. What might it be like to have you gazing up at him in expectation like this? He could imagine himself brushing your cheek with his fingers and tucking your hair behind your ears.

He would not touch this whore like that, though. Such intimacy was reserved for you alone. Instead, he merely undid the ties on his pants, pushing them down just enough to free himself. Tywin wasn’t fully hard yet, for truthfully the thing arousing him most was picturing you in place of this woman.

But, either way, he welcomed her to touch him as he stood before her. The whore examined his cock with a smile, instantly reaching from him and beginning to stroke. The sensation was pleasant, but Tywin remained entirely composed until she moved forward a bit and took him in her mouth.

In response to that, he let out a deep exhale, looking down at the top of her head and nearly moaning when he realized that she looked just like you from this angle. Her hair was perhaps her largest similarity to you, and Tywin found himself reaching for it eagerly. His fingers weaved through it, and his grip was firm yet tender.

The thought of you licking and sucking him this way fully hardened the Great Lion, and his hips involuntarily bucked into the whore’s mouth as he pretended that it was yours. He groaned rather loudly, fighting back the urge to let your name slip from his tongue.

All sorts of ideas about you began flooding through his head. He could imagine your hands grabbing at his hips, pulling him in even farther. And to have those lips, those soft, convincing lips wrapped around his cock… gods, it sent a shiver up his spine.

The whore swirled her tongue around his tip, but he did not feel that. Instead he felt you doing it, and he cursed out with utter delight. Of course, he could not entirely convince himself. Had it really been you he would’ve laid you across the sofa and buried his face between your legs already. For some odd reason, he also felt that you would be a woman bold enough to grab his balls while doing this. It was no particular fantasy of his, but the idea of you touching him in any way was absolutely titillating.

Tywin felt his abdomen beginning to tighten, and he shook his head, opening the eyes that he hadn’t even remembered closing. He glanced down at the whore, removing his hand from her hair. Feeling this, she glanced up at him.

“Enough of that. Get up and bend over,” he instructed, swallowing and catching his breath as he took a step back. He watched the woman do as he’d requested, hands planted into the sofa with her ass raised toward him, and he nodded to himself. Her build was not exactly like yours, which of course served to disappoint Tywin, but it was close enough that—if he were to really put some effort into it—he could convince himself.

He approached her then, one hand grabbing at her hip and the other reaching for his erection. Tywin found his breath catching in his throat as he lined himself up at the girl’s entrance. He simply kept his eyes focused there as he pushed in, imagining how you might moan his name and arch at the feeling of him stretching you this way.

Well, that was what he had been imagining until he was interrupted by the sound of the whore’s moan. Her voice was nothing like yours, and even if he had never heard your cries of pleasure before, logic told him it would be nothing like the sound he’d just heard.

As he slowly began to thrust into her, he attempted to ignore her whines, simply shutting his eyes and enjoying the warmth of the walls around his cock, because even if she wasn’t you, it obviously still felt rather good. Whores were paid for a reason, after all.

Both of Tywin’s hands were on the woman’s hips now, and again he thought of you. He remembered what it had been like to wake up at the inn with his arm wrapped around you, how his breath had caught in his throat when he realized.

That memory made him thrust a bit faster, and he let out a low moan as he did. The whore replied the same way, though her moans were far louder and much more exaggerated. It made Tywin increasingly annoyed, for not only did it not sound like you, but he knew it was fake.

This kind of stimulation might warrant a few soft moans or gasps, but nothing like the lusty cries that this woman was currently making. Tywin had enjoyed plenty of late nights with Joanna, and was not ignorant to what actually made a woman feel good, which was exactly how he knew that the current moans coming from below him were entirely exaggerated.

Attempting to ignore it, Tywin simply shut his eyes again and chased his own pleasure. He wondered if he even should’ve bothered asking for a woman that looked like you, for he was not spending very much time with his eyes open. Well, it had at least been convincing when she’d taken him in her mouth.

Already thinking of the subject, Tywin found himself imagining how you might moan. More than that, he imagined the way you might gasp his name and shudder as you did. Well, he was trying to. It was hard to do when the whore was quite so loud.

Opening his eyes and looking down at the woman, he decided he’d had enough. Perhaps it was rude, but as he gave the command he did not particularly care. “Hush. Be silent.”

The air felt tense for a moment as the whore silenced herself; she was certainly unaccustomed to men requesting such a thing. Normally, the more she moaned the more they enjoyed it. Well, it didn’t matter. She would stay quiet for the amount that she was being given.

Now that it was quiet besides the slapping of skin, Tywin felt free to give in to his fantasies. He ran his hands over the woman, though really he was running his hands over you. He craved the warmth of your skin, the feeling of you beneath his hands.

His thrusts became stronger now, and Tywin groaned rather loudly as he gave the whore’s ass a firm squeeze. This was pathetic of him, and he knew that, but his lust for you was so immense that he couldn’t help it. More than that, he simply wished to kiss and hold you. He certainly would not do that to a whore.

Tywin licked his lips, swallowing and breathing heavily as he exerted himself. He could feel his orgasm approaching, and so he leaned over the woman a bit to hit a deeper angle inside of her. However, upon doing so, he inhaled her scent.

He thrusted a few more times as he processed it, but for some reason Tywin could not ignore the perfume she was wearing. It was rather nice, but it smelled nothing like yours did. For some reason, he’d been able to ignore every other difference, but this was his breaking point. He could not ignore just how different from you this woman was any longer, and he sighed out with disappointment—more in himself than anything—as he pulled out of her.

The whore turned her head to look back, confused at what had just happened. Tywin was pulling his pants up, and he walked over to his nightstand to fetch the coin purse for her.

“For your time,” he said, bringing it back over to her. She was sitting on the couch now, feeling rather displaced and anxious. She’d never had a man just full on stop without finishing before.

“My lord, I apologize if I was unsatisfactory. Would you- would you like someone else?” she asked, looking up at him with a sort of embarrassment. Tywin took a deep breath as she said it, shaking his head. He suddenly felt bad.

“No, don’t apologize. It wasn’t that. And I’m fine, thank you,” he said, trying to reassure her without revealing anything. Had he spent a night with her a year ago, he would’ve found it rather satisfactory. But that was obviously very different now. Tywin could’ve been given the most desired whore in the world and he still wouldn’t have been content.

“Would you like me to be someone else..?” she trailed off, seeing the look in the Lord Hand’s eyes. It wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with a man who was clearly imagining another. Usually they had little shame in moaning other girls' names.

Tywin only stared at her, handing her the coin purse and then stepping away. She nodded at him, not wanting to push it. She rose from the couch, grabbing her discarded dress and showing herself out through the tunnel. In the morning, Tywin would have a letter sent to seal the thing off. There was no use for it now.

The Lord Hand merely sighed, going to the small table and pouring himself some wine. Surely he was disgusting for this. He didn’t even want to think about how you would react if you knew he’d fucked a whore with you in mind. Again, the guilt came back to him as he considered that perhaps he was like every other man. Gods, it was horrible to love you and want you this way when he was 100% certain you did not feel the same in any capacity.

Tywin sighed as he set his cup down and made his way over to the bed. He still had an erection to handle, and he supposed he’d get by just fine on his own. He undid his pants completely now, going fully nude and sitting on the edge of the mattress.

He reached toward his nightstand, pulling out a handkerchief from inside the small drawer so he wouldn’t make a mess when he finished. Though, he wiped the whore’s slick off of himself first. As he did that, however, he noticed your handkerchief still sitting on top of the stand. He had eaten the cookie the morning you’d left, but he had not moved the cloth itself at all.

An odd urge gripped Tywin, and he set aside the white cloth in his hand and instead reached for yours. He smiled fondly as he examined it, wondering if perhaps your sister or grandmother had embroidered the red roses around the edges of it, for you had once noted to him that you’d never been quite as good at it as them. The first letter of your name was also there in the corner, big and somewhat dramatic. It was pretty, and Tywin liked it.

He intended to put it back on his nightstand, but a sudden whiff of flowers hit his nose and he instantly stopped. Slowly, with an unparalleled amount of hope, he brought your handkerchief up to his nose and inhaled.

Smelling your perfume on it, he instantly exhaled and shut his eyes, allowing himself to fully take in the scent. Somehow, the familiarity of it made him feel as though he was holding you in his arms, or perhaps even just sitting beside you.

Tywin Lannister had never imagined himself being overly fond of some floral scent, but suddenly he could not get enough of it. He found himself burying his nose in this damn cloth, laying back on the bed and getting comfortable as he continually inhaled. He was so obsessed with your scent that he nearly moaned out.

Before he could even fully process what he was doing, Tywin was reaching down with his free hand, taking a hold of his cock. He was practically throbbing now, and the ache for you was so intense that even the slightest pleasure—combined with the rosy perfume filling his lungs—made him shake.

He began to rub himself, slowly at first, as he moaned out. He could picture you sitting beside him, your hair perfectly messy and a smile on your face as you touched him. You would take joy in seeing him become a mess under your hands like this, wouldn’t you? Tywin gasped, handkerchief still pressed to his face.

He forced memories of you saying his name into his mind, his hold on his erection tightening now. He began to rub a little faster, breathing catching in his throat as he looked down at himself. Compared to the warmth of his hand, the feeling of the cold valyrian steel ring made him shudder. The texture of it was almost painful, but you had given him that ring. You had held it in your hands.

Again, he moaned out, still bathing in the scent of roses. In his mind you were still there beside him, watching him moan as you squeezed and tugged. He could see you, naked and beautiful as you tortured him this way. He wanted to kiss you.

He started to rub himself even more vigorously now, a moaning mess as his hips came up to meet his hand. Tywin practically whimpered, and his legs were beginning to shake. It was never like this when he touched himself. The scent of you alone had turned him into this.

“(Y/N)… (Y/N)! Oh gods… (Y/N)…” Tywin applied extra pressure to the tip of his cock, choking out your name with absolutely ecstasy. He could feel every single muscle in his body tensing, as though he were some sort of wild animal.

He found himself rolling onto his stomach, momentarily stopping and reaching for the body pillow against his headboard. With absolute desperation, he lifted himself up for just long enough to push it under him. Once he’d done that, his hand went straight back to doing what it had been before, and he groaned again.

The handkerchief was still against his nose, and with the pillow beneath Tywin, he could imagine himself on top of you. Not only that, but he felt your stomach pressing against his as your back arched, and he saw you throwing your head back with pleasure.

Tywin moaned as he continued to pleasure himself, not caring at all how hot the room was growing. He was sweaty and tired, but your scent urged him to keep going; he listened quite obediently.

He was thrusting into his hand—and the pillow as well—with extreme vigor, forehead pressed to the mattress as he panted out. Even if he’d wanted to, Tywin could not keep your name from his lips, especially as he imagined how you might shake and quiver beneath him in the midst of an orgasm.

He felt like a madman envisioning all the ways that he would take you. He wanted you beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist. Or perhaps he would kneel before you, thrusting with your legs over his shoulders. Then he would take you from behind, his hand on your back as your forearms collapsed beneath you out of sheer pleasure. Tywin wanted you on top of him, hips rolling against his as your breasts bounced and he sat up to kiss them. There was the scent of roses again.

Tywin shuddered, for there was too much on his mind. That was not all he wished to do to you. He saw himself inserting his fingers into you, curling and pumping as his thumb rubbed your clit. Surely that would make you sing his name, which was erotic enough as it was. Not only that, but the Great Lion imagined what it might be like to bury his face between your legs, holding them open as they shook. He would feast like a man starved.

Gods, it was a euphoric vision, and he’d found a particularly enjoyable rhythm with his hand. Tywin knew he was close, and his moans had become entirely pathetic, whiny and loud in a way they hadn’t been in years.

Suddenly, his abdomen squeezed tighter than before, his hand clenching around the handkerchief as he took another good inhale. Roses, roses and you. That was all that existed as he felt an all-consuming pleasure in his groin.

The fresh cloth from earlier was entirely forgotten about, and Tywin did not care whatsoever as his seed spurted from his cock onto the pillow beneath him. He had surely ruined the case, but that was not even a thought to him as he cried your name out, so overwhelmed that his hand was forced to slow itself.

For a few seconds, the Great Lion was entirely frozen, moans becoming quieter and more relaxed as he came down from the peak of his orgasm. He had to swallow and catch his breath, exhaling deeply and blinking a few times to reorient himself.

Tywin was so exhausted that he nearly fell asleep then and there, but the thirst in his throat forced him to roll over onto his back so that he’d wake up. He glanced over at the pillow, surprised at just how large his spend had been. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d spilled so much.

Your handkerchief was still in his hand, and he stared at it for a few seconds before bringing it to his nose again. The scent had previously aroused him, but now it was comforting. He suddenly wished to hold you, to pet your hair and kiss your head.

Though, the reality of what he’d just done also hit him and drove utter shame and guilt into the Hand of the King. As if he had not degraded you enough by imagining you when he was with a whore.

Tywin sighed, sitting up slowly and reaching for the cup on his nightstand. The wine felt good in his throat, not to mention it soothed whatever nerves were gathering in his stomach. He was overthinking now.

As he laid back in bed and cleaned himself up, Tywin also thought about how you were doing at the present moment. It was weird having no contact with you, and it would stay that way until you arrived back at the Red Keep. At least, he prayed that was what would happen.

He merely sighed as he contemplated, pushing the body pillow off the bed and onto the floor. He slipped under the covers then too, trying to get comfortable. It was extremely late now, and there was no doubt in Tywin’s mind that he’d fall asleep rather quickly.

After all, the scent of roses still hung in the air around him, and he prayed that it would never fade away. Perhaps, for once in his life, the gods would listen.

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raspberryfingers · 9 months ago

Text

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 10)

WARNINGS: None

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: Let me say that I am SO sorry guys, I know I haven't updated in forever. This year has been genuine hell for me and because of that I really haven't had the time or mental capacity to update. It will probably stay that way, but hopefully I'll work through my chapters slowly. Thank you all so much for being understanding.

—————

I was determined to change Tywin’s mind. It was something I commonly attempted, and very rarely did not succeed in. However, he was quite relentless upon the subject of marrying Sansa Stark to Tyrion, along with marrying Cersei to Loras. I personally had no intention of letting that stand.

In my opinion, it was clear that his daughter had gotten to his head about my house plotting against theirs. It was understandable to want Sansa Stark for themselves, but I would under no circumstance allow Loras to marry Cersei Lannister.

And so, just as I constantly did now, I found myself in the Hand’s office. Conversation and interaction with the Hand of the King had become a daily ritual, it seemed.

“Good morning, Tywin,” I said, being let into his office and finding him at his desk despite the fact that it was only 7:00 in the morning. He finished a thought and then set his quill down, looking up at me.

“You’re up rather early,” he noted, almost as if it didn’t apply to him either. I raised an eyebrow, folding my hands together.

“I have something to discuss with you that requires immediate attention, and I didn’t want to risk interfering with other meetings or plans, as this might be a long conversation,” I informed, making my way to his desk. As my shoes clacked against the stone floor, he sighed.

“I haven’t a clue what it is that you’d like to discuss,” he remarked sarcastically, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands in his lap.

“Do I need to tell Pycelle that you are having problems with your memory? I’m sure he’d be able to sympathize with you,” I teased him, grinning as I did. Tywin only gave me a look and shook his head.

“Very well, if it pleases you to continue the conversation that even your grandmother could not win, then we shall,” he said, standing from his chair and making his way around the desk. He pulled my chair out for me, and I thanked him with a nod, putting my hand under my skirts as I sat.

“I’m not my grandmother—I know you far better. I’m also not here to make excuses about why we don’t want Loras to marry Cersei, I’m here to explain why it makes no sense. Trust me on this, Tywin, I did plenty of thinking after my grandmother told me what you’d proposed,” I began, enjoying the amusement in his eyes as he sat across from me and sipped the water in his cup. This was going to be quite the conversation.

“Go on then, tell me why it ‘makes no sense’, as you say.”

I straightened in my chair, pressing my lips together for a moment and then beginning. “I know your daughter believes that we—the Tyrells—are plotting against you, and perhaps I can understand where she’s coming from. After all, it’s no secret that I previously had quite a lot of disdain for you. If it had been up to me alone, I probably would have plotted against you.”

Tywin raised his eyebrows, but I did not smile. This was a serious subject, there was no reason to.

“However, that is an utterly ridiculous notion due to the fact that I have always prioritized my siblings. If Cersei does not trust me, then so be it, but our alliance is going to be solidified by a marriage. And yes, we both know Margaery and Joffrey’s marriage is political, though that doesn’t change the fact that you need us for our gold and crops, just as we need you to validate Margaery’s claim as queen. We both benefit, Tywin. I should hope you studied enough science as a boy to know what the term mutualism means,” I said accusingly, to which he waved a hand as a silent ‘oh hush’ and scoffed.

“Yes, Margaery needs Joffrey to ‘officially’ have that title, but let’s not pretend that his title makes him the most powerful. By giving your sister access to him, we—or rather I—have allowed her to take quite a lot of power. Now, I would not go so far as to say that I agree with Cersei about the plotting, because most of her evidence is that Margaery has succeeded in manipulating Joffrey, just as you expected she would. That does not bother me at all, Joffrey needs it. What does bother me is that despite already having plenty of access to power, your family wants to thank me for it by seeking out even more. By stealing it from us,” Tywin said, looking away with aggravation. I sighed, shaking my head and gripping the arms of my chair as I replied.

“It is less about lowering House Lannister than it is strengthening House Tyrell. We have an eldest son that needs marrying and Sansa is the first Stark daughter, to me it seems natural. And, it is not as if your family had some sort of claim to her as anything besides a prisoner of war.”

Tywin huffed and adjusted his seat, beginning to open his mouth until I put my hand out to silence him. He glared, but let me speak anyway.

“Let me put it this way, then. I believe that our continued alliance means that Loras marrying Sansa would increase the power of both of our houses. If we have access to the north, then so do you by association,” I reasoned, raising my eyebrows at him to emphasize my words.

“Yes, in theory we would, but currently our alliance is only officially bound by a manipulative marriage. How am I to trust the strength of our alliance when that is its foundation?” Tywin replied, making me smile softly. Gods, he truly was naive sometimes.

“Their marriage is not its foundation, Tywin, we are. But nonetheless, I already prepared for you having such an opinion. That is why… well, why I am prepared to go to great lengths to ensure that you feel our alliance is strong enough to call off Loras’ marriage to Cersei, especially because Joffrey is a Baratheon in name,” I said, taking a deep breath. The Great Lion only stared at me, slightly turning his head with curiosity.

“To- to strengthen the alliance between our houses, I will- I will marry Tyrion. I have nothing to gain from marrying your son, only something to lose, and yet I will do it anyway if it convinces you that it is no real loss to call off the marriage between Cersei and Loras,” I announced shakily, pulling my hands into my lap so he would not see them tremble.

I watched Tywin’s face for a reaction, and was surprised to see his eyebrows raise and his mouth fall open. I’d truly managed to shock Tywin Lannister.

“You would marry Tyrion to prove our alliance strong?” He clarified, still gaping at me. I would have laughed, but the thought of marrying—not Tyrion specifically, but in general—terrified me. I swallowed and nodded, trying to stop the quivering in my hands.

“Not even Jaime? You are the eldest daughter, (Y/N),” he questioned, utterly bewildered. I only gave him a condescending look.

“Whether you want to accept it or simply live in delusion, Jaime is a part of the Kingsguard. Not to mention, he’s also not here,” I reminded him, to which he scoffed.

“You would truly marry Tyrion? You’re being serious?”

“Yes, I would marry him. That is how much I genuinely believe in our two houses working together rather than against each other. Does that satisfy you?” I said, trying not to let my tone waiver. I was pinching my wrist in my lap, dreading his verdict.

All that Tywin had ever wanted was to be rid of Tyrion, and previous marriage proposals with other houses had not gone so well for him. As he stared at me and contemplated, all I could expect was to hear him say yes. As he had just pointed out, I was the eldest Tyrell daughter. Why shouldn’t he want to marry me to Tyrion?

There was silence for several minutes, and I could see on his face that he was thinking. I hadn’t a clue what he was thinking about, for this seemed to be a very simple thing to me. If anything, I was surprised he hadn’t instantly accepted.

“No, it does not satisfy me. I would never let Tyrion marry you, he is not worthy of a woman such as yourself,” Tywin said finally, hand clenching onto the arm of his chair. Relief went through me, though I was slightly upset by the fact that Tywin was being so rude. “And even if Jaime was here, I wouldn’t marry him to you either. No man in all seven kingdoms is worthy of you.”

We both stared at each other in silence, and there was an odd tension in the air. My lips parted, and he inhaled slowly. We only snapped out of it when he forced himself to look away, reaching for his cup and taking a sip.

“Either way, you’ve proven your point. Our alliance is strong enough that we don’t need a further marriage bond. And, since it is so strong, we would both benefit from Sansa Stark’s claim. However, by your logic, if Sansa Stark were to marry Tyrion, then your family would receive the same benefits as before. There is no reason for me to cancel that betrothal,” Tywin reasoned then, making me scoff and shake my head.

“No. I’m grateful that you at least understand the lack of need to marry your daughter to Loras, but I still feel that he ought to be with Sansa instead,” I replied, shifting in my chair because I’d been sitting here for so long now. Tywin looked at me and then chuckled softly.

“You’re asking quite a lot of me, (Y/N). You should know better.”

“It is you who should know better. Sansa Stark is a sweet girl with few demands, I suppose I have your family to thank for that. You’ve treated her so poorly that all she desires is to be living in Highgarden; she has no expectations of Loras. And, because it is no secret that my brother is fond of men, when she realizes that it may cause disappointment, but it will not be ruinous for their marriage,” I explained to him, only pausing for a moment before continuing with my point.

“Plus, Margaery’s marriage to Joffrey will ensure our alliance for long enough that we will both get Sansa Stark’s claim once her children are of age.” I leaned back in my chair, feeling quite satisfied with how well this was going for me. I could see Tywin fighting for an excuse.

“You would be putting a Tyrell child in charge of Winterfell. You may share that claim with us, but the same cannot be guaranteed for the next generation or two. If I were to marry her to Tyrion, it is an absolute guarantee that a Lannister male will have Winterfell.

“An easy problem to fix, Tywin. Whatever children Loras and Sansa have will marry at least one of Tyrion’s children. That way the Tyrell-Lannister alliance will continue and give those children continued power over the North,” I bargained with him, feeling quite content with such a solution.

“But the rulers of the North would be Tyrell in name.”

“An unfortunate pill you must swallow. I have already explained why it makes more sense for Sansa to marry Loras than your son. Tyrion is better used securing an alliance with another house. There are plenty of eligible daughters, and marrying him to a woman from another, lower house, has no effect. He’s a son of Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in Westeros. Plus, you’re not the only one who begrudges him for being a dwarf, people wouldn’t think twice if he married a woman a bit lower in status than he. Perhaps a Karstark or a Frey to ensure that they do not join Robb Stark.”

The Great Lion blinked at me slowly, clearly not appreciating the way I was over explaining it to him. Though, he had to admit that it was sound reasoning.

“And what of your brother? None of you shy away from the fact that he is not entirely fond of female company. How can you ensure children from his marriage to the Stark girl?” He asked, folding his hands in his lap with a sort of relaxation. Clearly he’d been waiting to bring this up, and I rolled my eyes.

“Loras is aware of what is expected of him, and is willing to put his desires aside. It was a topic discussed at length when we first learned of his inclinations, and he was quite understanding. There can also be a bedding ceremony, if you should truly require that much assurance,” I said with a sigh, knowing that it was a likely thing to happen. It was rather odd, I felt, that even a man like Tywin Lannister had not been able to deny his own bedding ceremony. Such was the reign of Aerys, though that was long over. There was little shame in admitting that the Hand of the King was most powerful now.

“A bedding ceremony is naturally expected. It will perhaps convince other nobles to ignore the rumors about him,” he replied, looking away as he did. The subject seemed to make him uncomfortable.

“They’re not rumors, Tywin. Let them think whatever they’d like, it doesn’t affect us. I will say, though, that I was quite disgusted by what you think of Loras,” I huffed out, shaking my head at him. His eyes settled on me again, and his eyebrows suddenly furrowed.

“It is unnatural.”

“In my eyes, it’s a preference. Just as some men like younger women and others like older women. We can’t control any of that. Plus, it does not affect his ability to fight, fence, or function as a regular man,” I reasoned, not really understanding why Tywin or anybody else should make such a big deal of it.

“And yet he’s engaging in intercourse that would not produce children. That is what I consider unnatural,” he shot back, brows raising at me as he said it. I gave him a look of utter disappointment, almost as if asking if he was serious.

“Oh Tywin, please. Not all intercourse is for that purpose, even between a man and a woman. You have three children, and by all accounts quite loved your wife. I’m certain you’re familiar with acts of pleasure that don’t produce children,” I laughed, shaking my head at how ridiculous the conversation was.

“My opinion upon the subject is final. You’re more than welcome to feel anger about it.”

“What I feel is more than anger, Tywin, it is disgust—both at you and at myself. How can I, in good conscience, be friends with a man who thinks so poorly of my dear brother? What if I had the same inclinations, Tywin? What would you think of me then?” I said accusingly, glaring at him as I posed the question. Did he truly expect me to look past such an opinion? I admittedly had felt some attraction towards women in the past, though the interest was not exclusive as my brother’s was. The Hand of the King paused as he contemplated.

“I don’t mean to cause offense. It is simply what I believe, just as many others do. If you were to feel the same attraction that your brother does, I would not hold it against you, just as I don’t with your brother, for it is not his only quality,” Tywin replied with a sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing. I shook my head at him, my stomach beginning to sink.

“And since when have you been like anyone else? I suppose I simply just don’t understand why you have such an opinion. I have already disproved what you believe makes it fundamentally unnatural. If your belief stems from religion then I’d like to remind you that the gods… well, you know very well how the gods can be,” I said, pausing myself at the end when I saw the look in his eyes. He knew better than anyone how cruel they were.

“Yes, yes I do…”

I paused, swallowing and looking around before speaking.

“I just- I don’t understand why you chose to dislike a group of people that has never personally offended you,” I said, realization suddenly coming to me when I saw the look on his face. “Unless…”

“I don’t wish to discuss this topic anymore, (Y/N). Our previous conversation was far more relevant.”

“My grandmother said you were quite aggravated by her questioning of your own desires… that you were very insistent upon not being like my brother. I cannot help but wonder, Tywin, if perhaps this hatred comes from your own self loathing. If perhaps you have felt such attraction in the past and did not like feeling that way,” I said, slowly leaning forward in my chair as the puzzle pieces came together. His firm denial of it suddenly made quite a lot of sense.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you know very well that my love for my wife was genuine and strong. To insinuate such a thing-“

“Tywin, you do realize that such feelings are not exclusive, don’t you? I am well aware of how much you loved Joanna, but it does not mean that you cannot also have attraction to men. Perhaps you prefer women, but that doesn’t exclude your same sex entirely. I am simply curious… as you did mention frequently leaving the castle with the late King Aerys… and leaving alone,” I pointed out, watching him grow increasingly uncomfortable. I’d figured it out, it seemed. His eyes were extremely avoidant, and he could not stop shifting in his seat and biting his cheeks. He was embarrassed.

“I do not wish to discuss this.”

I stared at him, and suddenly softened. He was ashamed, of course. And how could I blame him? To be the most powerful man in Westeros, the Hand of the King, and the Lord of Casterly Rock. His job had been to build his house up, to rid the sound of shameful laughter from his halls. So what then if people should discover that the son of the Laughing Lion had ‘unnatural’ inclinations?

I reached across the table, offering him my hand. He did not look at me and he did not take it.

“Listen to me, Tywin. You may not be ready to come to terms with it, and you may not be anywhere near comfortable with discussing such a subject, but know that I am here if you ever want to. Clearly, I don’t think anything of it, and I personally have felt attraction towards women just as well as men. I hope that eventually you will come to see it as I have, for I do not want you to hate yourself for it,” I said softly, looking at him the whole time even despite the fact that he would not look at me.

There was silence after I finished speaking, and only after a minute did he finally adjust his eyes. Tywin looked at my open palm, and with a bit of hesitation he took it. He did not say anything, but I saw his lip tremble as I squeezed his hand.

“I- I consent to the marriage between your brother and Sansa Stark, though begrudgingly. I will discuss it with my children. Tyrion needs to marry regardless, I can’t imagine he’ll like that, but he seemed to pity the Stark girl so at least he can be comforted by that. There’s no doubt in my mind Cersei will continue to try and convince me you’re all plotting, but I suspect all I’ll have to do is remind her that she’s getting out of a marriage thanks to you. Well, getting out of one for now,” he said, letting go of my grip and taking a deep breath.

I nodded, standing up and slowly going over to him. His eyes fixed themself on me as I made my way around the desk. When I reached him, I began to bend down. As a response, he stiffened and froze, entirely uncertain of what I intended to do.

I found myself pressing my lips to his forehead, and my hand came to his hair. His breath caught in his throat, and when I pulled away there was a slightly confused look on his face.

“Thank you, Tywin. I know it’s all politics and such, but I am grateful that you listened to me and understood my point of view. This way, we both succeed and don’t have to sacrifice as much happiness within our families,” I said, reaching for his hand again and giving it another small squeeze.

He nodded, hesitating for a moment before pressing it to his lips. My cheeks heated, though I had not a clue why. It was a common gesture, there was certainly nothing special about it.

But I could not deny the feeling of goosebumps forming along my arm, and the pleasant feeling of his mouth against my skin. A friend had never brought me such comfort before.

When he let it go, I gave him a gentle smile and turned to leave, but was surprised to hear him call out for me.

“(Y/N), wait.”

I faced him again and raised an eyebrow. He’d sat up straighter, and he sighed out as he spoke.

“Since you’re here, there’s something else I’d like to talk about. Especially in light of all that we have just discussed,” he said, his lips thinning as he finished. I could tell this would not be a fun conversation either, somehow.

“Oh?”

“I would like your advice. Another perspective, perhaps. I know what I would like to do, but you are always insistent on doing the opposite of that. And, since it does involve the war, it’s something you ought to hear about,” he explained, much to my curiosity. Had some opportunity presented itself?

I sat down again, and Tywin got up to pour both of us wine. I thanked him when he brought it back over to me. Gods, what a morning.

“So, tell me, what do you require my humble advice about?” I asked, grinning at him rather widely. He shook his head with feigned disappointment.

“Well, Robb Stark beheaded Rickard Karstark just as we had all expected. Since those forces have marched home, he is now trying to convince Edmure Tully to marry a daughter of Walder Frey. He is waving the olive branch, just as you suggested he would.”

I nodded, unsurprised by everything he’d just said. I still had not figured out where he was going with this.

“And if I remember correctly, you said Walder Frey would not make an alliance with him. It seems that’s what he is doing, is he not? Unless there’s something I’m unaware of,” I recounted, an uneasy feeling creeping into my stomach while I did.

“That is what I intend to ask your advice on. Walder Frey was obviously furious that Robb Stark broke his promise. Well, now he seeks revenge for it. He sent a letter asking for the support of House Lannister,” he explained, beginning to avoid my eyes. I started to feel even worse, as I somehow suspected that whatever plan he was about to mention did not involve anything pleasant for Robb Stark.

“Our support to do what, Tywin?” I questioned, holding the arms of my chair now. I hadn’t even been conscious of my usage of ‘our’.

“The plan, essentially, would be to have Robb Stark, his wife, and his mother murdered at that wedding. It would provide allies in House Bolton and House Frey.”

The room was utterly silent besides the sound of our breathing, and I began to feel somewhat queasy. I desired very deeply to end the war… but this… well, this was quite different from any battle. It would ensure victory, but at what cost?

“Roose Bolton would turn?” I asked, trying to process that information first.

“He already has. It was his bastard who burned down Winterfell, not the Ironborn as Robb Stark was led to believe,” Tywin informed me, to which I nodded. It was not entirely surprising; Roose Bolton seemed the type of man to play such a game.

With that out of the way, I further pondered the proposal Tywin had just made. Killing an entire family at a wedding. Winning the war. There were so many pros and so many cons.

“You disapprove of the idea, I take it,” Tywin said finally, seeing that the words had gotten stuck in my throat. I wet my lips with my tongue and then took a deep breath.

“Just- just give me a moment to think. I need to think,” I replied, fidgeting with the sleeve of my dress.

It was an incredibly tough scenario to contemplate. Breaking guest right that way would forever make the north wary of us, and the seven kingdoms were already far too disunited. Not to mention, I would be allowing the murder and possible rape of women by agreeing with him. Tywin could order his own men to not do such a thing, but if the Freys would be committing the act, then…

I did not want to become the person I had lectured Tywin for being, but what else could we do? We could certainly just wait for Robb Stark’s forces to grow tired and beaten down, yet further peace was needed. The distrust would boil over eventually.

Suddenly, an idea began to form in my head, and I nodded to myself as I thought it all out. Perhaps it would work, just maybe.

“Tywin, consider why the Young Wolf is waging war against us. Obviously he marched for Ned Stark at first, but now that his father’s dead the reasoning becomes more murky. Perhaps revenge is part of it, but more than anything he wants his sister back and he wants to go home. With Loras and Sansa to wed and Robb Stark’s forces so small, what if… well, what if we sent them to him? I know it sounds utterly insane, but why would he continue to wage war if his sister is home? If Sansa is happy in her marriage to my brother then it would be even more convincing,” I said, slowly stringing together my thought process and hoping to find a solution.

“With your family linked so closely to mine, who’s to say he wouldn’t just murder Loras?” Tywin asked, turning his head with a sort of caution.

“Because he would most assuredly be crushed then, and I’d personally see to such a thing. But, either way, Robb Stark is an honorable man; if we offer an olive branch, perhaps he’ll take it. And if not him, I cannot imagine his mother wanting to further risk their lives when Sansa is home safe,” I reasoned, taking a sip of wine and letting it soothe the headache that had begun to form.

“You would give him another opportunity to swear fealty? We already tried that, (Y/N), and he responded by calling up his bannermen,” Tywin demurred, raising a wary eyebrow at me. I sighed, shaking my head as I elaborated.

“But the circumstances are vastly different now. The only reason he took up arms was because Ned Stark was imprisoned, and at his age I’m sure he and plenty of others were itching for war. Now he’s been betrayed by Theon Greyjoy and lost an enormous amount of his forces. There is zero possibility of him winning against the largest force in Westeros, no matter how hard he tries. Whether we side with Walder Frey or merely meet him on the battlefield, his entire family will be slaughtered regardless. We ought to give him this out,” I said, knowing deep down that it was the right thing to do. After all, what boy wouldn’t fight for the lives of his father and sisters? He’d not made it in time for Ned, now he just wanted to make it in time for Sansa.

“You’d like to do this out of honor? Is that it?” He questioned, trying to figure out my intentions. I shook my head again. It was hard to express exactly what I meant in this scenario.

“Honor is something to be cautious about. If I can avoid the murder of an entire family, I will. To me that’s more about morality than honor. The way I see it, we could end this war by doing that, but if we do, the North will never trust us again. Ending the war isn’t enough, we need to work on reuniting the seven kingdoms. I believe that if we make peace with Robb Stark, and perhaps help him rebuild Winterfell, it would be a step towards doing that,” I explained, watching his face for any kind of reaction.

Tywin contemplated, and I could tell that he wanted to see it the way that I did, but he was still unsure. I couldn’t blame him, for quite a lot of things could go wrong in this scenario. It was entirely possible that Robb Stark was so furious about his father’s death that he would never even consider making peace with us, and that thought did make me uneasy. What if sending Loras and Sansa cost the Lannisters a bargaining piece and me a family member?

“Perhaps he will agree, but I’m hesitant. To him, the Tyrells are enemies; you’re siding with a family that killed his father. I cannot imagine he’s particularly eager to make peace with us,” Tywin said, drinking some of his own wine. As he raised his cup, I noticed that the morning sun was shining on his ring. It looked beautiful.

“If Sansa is married to Loras, she could help convince Robb Stark to agree. She’s close with my entire family, and she trusts us. I suppose my grandmother and sister are the first people who’ve shown her an ounce of kindness in quite some time. It would be useful. Her testimony might be enough to make Robb Stark trust our intentions,” I pointed out, now even more glad that Tywin had agreed to let them marry.

“He may trust the intentions of House Tyrell, but he certainly will not trust mine. He’s not going to want to bend the knee to Joffrey even if you give him that choice.”

“Right now, I don’t think he gets to refuse. As I said, if his sister is home and his numbers are small, he ought to be wise and return home. When we send Loras and Sansa, perhaps… perhaps allow me to go with them. Loras is kind, and he’s not stupid, but I don’t feel that he’s anywhere near as convincing as I am, and there’s no room for mistakes. I can convince Robb Stark, especially with Sansa’s help. We need unity,” I said, exhaling strongly and reaching for my cup. Gods, this entire war was miserable. At the very least, this wine was quite good.

Tywin raised both eyebrows at me, huffing out and standing up. This suggestion had made him quite upset, it seemed.

“If I think there’s a possibility that Robb Stark would harm, kill, or take Loras captive, why in the gods' names would I let you go? I will not risk your life, (Y/N), let alone your safety. Let me be very clear about that,” he said vehemently, gazing down at me with complete seriousness. I rose from my chair as well, taking a deep breath.

I went around the desk, reaching out to him. He took my hands in his when I offered them, looking down at the sight. I kept my eyes on his face, however.

“I will be safe, Tywin, I promise. I wouldn’t do it, or even have suggested it, if I thought it might be dangerous for me,” I told him, squeezing both of his palms. He lifted his head, holding my gaze with the utmost concern and care. He shook his head.

“Well I think it’s dangerous. You’re not going, (Y/N). I won’t- I won’t lose you. I can’t,” he whispered, looking away. I let go of his hand and reached for his face instead, turning it back toward me.

“I’ll take Ser Elias with me, and Loras will have guards for him and Sansa. All will be well, Tywin. You won’t lose me, hm? I’ll help to restore a fragile peace to the seven kingdoms, minus Stannis, and then I will return home to you.” I brushed my thumb against Tywin’s cheek, and he leaned into my palm. His stubble scratched against me, and for some reason it made me want to cry.

“I hate feeling like I cannot protect you,” he mumbled, closing his eyes so he would not have to look at me.

“I can protect myself, Tywin. You know that. If not with my sword then certainly with my tongue.”

Both of the Great Lion’s hands suddenly came to my face, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes as he cupped my cheeks.

“I will tell Walder Frey to call off the wedding. I’ll inform him I have other plans in place,” he said, sighing out. I gave him a gentle smile, knowing that he did not want to feel anxious for my well being.

“Thank you, Tywin. You won’t regret it, I promise you that.”

He looked at me thoughtfully and nodded, releasing one of his hands from my face and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as he spoke. “I know I told you that I wished for you to fight alongside me should we ever face conflict again, but I don’t know how I’d do it. I’d fear for your safety the whole time.”

“Just as I would fear for yours, Tywin,” I whispered in reply, placing my own hand on top of his and keeping it against my cheek.

We stared at each other, and—in an odd passion—I felt just as I had at the inn: like I wanted to kiss him.

My cheeks flushed, and my breath quickened. Letting go of his hand, I looked away. I would never kiss Tywin, we were merely friends. It was simply a tender moment and his face was close to mine. That was all there was to it.

—————

“Ah, family. I’ve been looking for all of you. I suppose I should’ve checked here first.”

Margaery, Loras, and my grandmother were all in the garden attempting to distract themselves. My grandmother and sister were snacking on whatever the servants had brought, but Loras could not seem to touch it.

He’d been trying quite hard to come to terms with marrying Cersei; it had been difficult for all of us.

“(Y/N), come sit with us. Have you had breakfast yet? Ser Elias said you were up early today,” Margaery said, looking up from her plate and motioning to the chair beside my grandmother.

“No, not yet. I had something to attend to this morning, it’s why I’ve been looking for all of you. I have news,” I explained, sitting down at the table and instantly reaching over for some fruit, cheese, and bread. It was cold now, but I felt so victorious that it was no real loss.

“Oh? Go on then, spit it out,” my grandmother said, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of wine. I might’ve told her it was early, but I supposed at her age it made little difference. Plus, I had been drinking too.

“I spoke with Tyw- Lord Tywin this morning. We had a rather lengthy conversation, and though he was quite stubborn about it, I managed to convince him against Loras’ betrothal to Cersei,” I informed them, watching Loras instantly look up with disbelief.

“Truly? You’re not joking?” He questioned, wondering if it was perhaps too good to be true.

“Yes, truly.”

He was smiling brighter than the sun now, and so was Margaery as she leaned toward Loras and placed a hand on his shoulder. My grandmother, however, was giving me a rather suspicious look.

“And how is it that you managed to convince him?” she inquired, folding her hands together in a somewhat menacing way. I raised an eyebrow. Why was she so wary?

“Well, it’s quite simple, really. A large focus of the conversation was that our alliance is quite stable, and I helped him come to the conclusion that—because of that stability—there’s no reason to marry Loras and Cersei. He’s better off marrying her to someone else,” I answered, shrugging because I found it to be rather straightforward.

“I see,” my grandmother said curtly, reaching for her cup as a natural way to end her sentence. I merely ignored it, knowing that she was prone to all sorts of moods and opinions. If she wanted me to know what she was thinking, I’d find out.

“But, it’s not only that... I have also convinced the Lord Hand to let your betrothal to Sansa Stark continue,” I revealed with a smile, watching my brother’s face light up once again.

“How on earth did he agree to that?” Loras asked, laughing a bit as he did. He appeared to be utterly giddy over knowing that things were all going to plan again. Margaery had turned to my grandmother, giving her an odd look.

“Well, he settled after I told him that, of whatever children you and Sansa have, one of them will marry a child of Tyrion Lannister. It’s all quite far in the future, but that is the current arrangement,” I said, to which he nodded with understanding. Hypotheticals were easy to accept, it seemed. I prayed that the deal would work out properly, because I did want to keep my word to Tywin.

“I see. Well, I thank you nonetheless, (Y/N). Gods’ know I’d much rather marry Sansa than Cersei,” Loras muttered, making my grandmother huff out a laugh. None of us preferred Cersei to Sansa Stark in any capacity.

“Of course. If you have to marry a woman, I’d rather it be a sweet girl like Sansa. Plus, she could certainly use a break from King’s Landing. And, speaking of which, I’m afraid there’s one other reason that Lord Tywin feels alright with this match…” I trailed off, watching all of my family members raise their eyebrows in some capacity.

“It seems… it seems that an opportunity to make peace with Robb Stark may have appeared, and your wedding to Sansa may be exactly what we need in order to do so. Once- Once the wedding is over, the idea would be for the two of you, along with me, to confront the Young Wolf. With some diplomatic convincing, I hope to end the war and help the Starks retake Winterfell,” I explained to them, anxiously awaiting their responses.

There was silence for a moment, and Margaery was still staring at our grandmother. Loras seemed to be processing the idea in his own head, but it was not his permission that I needed, especially because I knew he really wouldn’t mind it.

“And you’re certain it would be safe to confront Robb Stark that way? Just the three of you?” my grandmother questioned, finally looking over at me. I instantly nodded at her.

“It wouldn’t just be the three of us, Ser Elias and a few trusted guards would come as well, but the idea is to seem open. To bring a large group to his camp would cause conflict, whereas a small group would only cause questioning. I believe that Sansa has enough affection for Loras—and for the rest of our family—to help our cause. On top of Robb’s honor, Sansa’s wishes would likely protect us from any harm.” I popped a grape into my mouth, crushing it against the roof of my mouth with my tongue. I was partly hoping that if I relied on those two things enough, it would become reality.

In all honesty, I had no clue if I would be safe. I had promised Tywin—and was now telling my grandmother—that I would, but men were unpredictable. Some less than others, yes, but this was a risk. I could see on Loras’ face that he knew it too.

“And what if they don’t kill you but instead take you captive? They’d be taking two bargaining pieces and then we would have none,” my grandmother pointed out, scoffing at me and shaking her head.

“Do you think I don’t know that already? Grandmother, I’m well aware of the fact that this certainly could go wrong in quite a lot of ways, but it is a risk that I feel comfortable taking. Robb Stark, at this point, is really only fighting this war for his sisters. Why keep fighting when he has them back? My point is, I don’t think he’s got any reason to want to take Loras and I captive. But, if you’re still anxious about it, I’m willing to take Sansa by myself.”

Loras shot up from his chair, shaking his head at me.

“I’m not letting you go alone, (Y/N). Either I go with you or the whole thing’s called off,” he said, making my grandmother sigh out. She promptly spoke up about her opinion on the subject.

“Loras, you are the heir to Highgarden, I’m not going to have you go with your sister and-”

“So just because I’m the heir it means that somehow my safety is more important than (Y/N)’s? No, that’s ridiculous, Grandmother. I’m going with her.”

“I’m not saying that your safety is more important, I’m saying that you’re more at risk because the Stark’s will see your position as something valuable. I’d rather neither of you go at all, but if you must then I’d like to minimize the risk of it,” my grandmother explained, making Loras scoff and look away from her. I rose from my seat, going over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s not entirely wrong, Loras. It might… it might make more sense for me to go alone with Sansa,” I whispered, seeing on his face that he was still upset about it.

“No. How are the Starks supposed to trust us, or even trust my marriage to Sansa, if I’m not there with you? I have to be there, (Y/N),” Loras reasoned, turning to my grandmother with a sort of pleading look. It was really up to her more than anyone else.

There was silence for a moment as she contemplated it, but eventually she sighed and relented with a nod of her head. Loras let out the breath he’d been holding and then turned his gaze back to me.

“Thank you, (Y/N). Thank you for convincing Lord Tywin to alter the plans, it means quite a lot to me. I’m certain it’ll mean plenty to Sansa as well. I’ll go tell her right now,” my brother said, pulling me into his arms and giving me a genuine hug. I smiled, wrapping my arms around him and squeezing gently.

“Of course. Tell Sansa about the wedding plans, and mention the idea of making peace with Robb. Tell her that, ideally, the two of you would go with Robb to rebuild Winterfell, and then eventually return to Highgarden,” I told him, pulling away and tucking a few curls behind his ear. He nodded, kissing my cheek before turning and leaving the garden.

I watched him go, and when I eventually turned around, I found both Margaery and my grandmother staring directly at me. There was a somewhat quizzical look on their faces, and it made me anxious. Why in the seven hells were they thinking about?

“What?” I questioned warily, sitting back down in my chair.

“Grandmother and I are just… well, just a bit uncertain of how exactly you managed to change Lord Tywin’s mind so easily,” Margaery noted, blinking several times as she did. Both her and my grandmother almost looked… well, suspicious.

“Well, as I said, Lord Tywin and I had quite the conversation-”

“Yes, I heard. However, he and I had quite the conversation as well, and so I am attempting to figure out how—even after backing me into a corner—he listened to you,” my grandmother said accusingly. I watched Margaery attempt to cover her smile with a hand, much to my confusion.

“He respects me, grandmother. I believe I’ve earned it after spending so much time around him. Plus, I gave my solutions quite a lot of thought. Every question he asked I had a good answer for,” I reasoned, almost a little annoyed by the fact that they were in disbelief. Did they think I lacked the ability to be convincing?

The two women before me turned to look at each other, and both of them started to smile. I was utterly bewildered as to what was happening.

“I hope you will forgive me saying this, my dear, but I’m beginning to think Lord Tywin feels a lot more than just respect for you,” my grandmother continued, to which Margaery began to laugh. I sighed, finally understanding what they were insinuating and giggling about.

“Oh please, Grandmother. Lord Tywin and I are merely friends, that is all. And even that may be a stretch, he still makes me angry quite frequently. Your insinuations are not as realistic as you believe them to be,” I said, though partially lying. I reached for the cup Loras had left behind and took a sip of his wine. I had not even realized it was his cup for a moment, and I had been expecting water, but somehow found that the wine was reassuring all the same. Gods, I was having quite the morning.

“Yes, and that is why the two of you are always going out and disappearing overnight. Don’t think I’m unaware, (Y/N). Not only that, but for nearly a week now you’ve visited the Tower of the Hand at least once a day,” my grandmother pointed out, making me shake my head vehemently. Had she gone utterly insane?

“Please, think logically. I’ve hated Lord Tywin for 11 years now, what makes you think that all of a sudden there are romantic feelings between the two of us? If not enemies, the most that we’ll ever be is friends, I promise you that,” I said firmly, trying to get that idea through her head.

“I think sometimes it is easier to hate someone than to admit that you’re attracted to them. Though, I would like to note that I said nothing of romance, I am merely suggesting that the two of you are sleeping together. You are the one bringing romance into it,” she teased, giving me that grin which insinuated she’d won in this discussion. Heat came to my cheeks, and I sputtered out with shock.

“G-Grandmother! I- I can assure you that Lord Tywin and I are most certainly not doing anything even remotely close to that. I have no attraction to him, none whatsoever!”

“If you’re bedding Lord Tywin, (Y/N), there’s no need to shy away from it. You know neither your sister nor I would care. Well, we might judge your taste a little bit, but that’s all,” she said, laughing. Margaery joined her, and my entire face turned unbelievably hot. To me the thought was utterly unfathomable; I couldn’t understand why they were laughing about it.

“I assure you, I am not bedding Ty- Lord Tywin, and I don’t intend to. Ever,” I told them, trying to defend myself. They only laughed more.

“Of course, sister. That’s why your dresses become more revealing each day. I find myself wondering if you’re stealing from my closet. Not to mention, you seem to have a new affinity for patterns with red roses.” Margaery joined in on the assault, and I sighed out of utter exhaustion. This family would be the death of me.

“That’s complete nonsense. I’ll say it now, and I’m not going to repeat myself: the relationship I have with Lord Tywin is nothing but an alliance and friendship. He is older than Father, and only 6 years younger than you, Grandmother. To insinuate that I am bedding him is insane,” I reasoned, raising an eyebrow at the Queen of Thorns. She smiled and reached for my hand.

“I am aware, my dear, we discussed it yesterday. It’s nothing unusual, plenty of men marry and sleep with women much younger than themselves,” she said, leaning forward as she usually would while making a point.

“Well not Lord Tywin.”

“(Y/N), from what I’ve heard, the Lord Hand smiles quite easily around you. Tywin Lannister never smiles. The last person he was known to smile around was his late wife,” Margaery mentioned, giggling as she did.

“This was not the reaction I had hoped for when I revealed that I’d convinced Lord Tywin to reconsider Loras’ marriage,” I grumbled, rubbing my forehead with slight annoyance. I refused to even think about what they were saying, for it was not possible in any capacity.

“(Y/N), I’m not asking you to admit it, perhaps just consider it for yourself. You may not be bedding Lord Tywin, or engaged in any sort of romantic relationship with him, but you do have such feelings for him, don’t you?” my grandmother asked, smiling wickedly.

I scoffed at her then, confident that she was wrong. Later that night, however, I’d have to consider her words. I’d noticed small things, like butterflies in my stomach when Tywin and I touched, or heat in my face when he complimented me. I smiled at the set of armor sitting in my room every day, and at the Valyrian steel blades in my chest. And I had to admit, I was beginning to grow fond of the color red, for it reminded me of him.

But to me, that was all normal. Why shouldn’t a friend make me happy and make me feel cared for? Tywin and I simply got along well; we fit together. Yes, I had wanted to kiss him before, but that had been during very tender moments. It was not as if I was sitting around daydreaming about kissing him.

So surely that was not love, right? It couldn’t be. I supposed I’d never exactly considered myself to be in love with anyone before, so I had nothing to compare it to, but wouldn’t it be the sort of thing that was abundantly clear to me?

Well, it mattered very little. I could not feel love for Tywin Lannister, let alone romantic affection. To be with a man like that would most assuredly be the most painful thing I could possibly do to myself. He was a horrible person who had done horrible things, and because of that I had hated him for nearly half of my life.

Plus, he was only a few years younger than my grandmother, and he’d probably never even considered me romantically because of that. Right?

No. To love Tywin Lannister romantically was out of the question. I could crave the sight of his eyes and his smile, and I could crave the sound of his voice and his laugh, but I could not love him. It was not a thought that I intended to entertain.

I was afraid of what doing so might unleash in me.

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