#sansa x loras

[queerquaintrelle]

Sansa Stark Week 2024: Love/Marriage

Highly alternate universe: Sansa Stark-Tyrell x Loras Tyrell (lavender marriage & friendship/platonic love).

@sansastarkmonth2024

[alleyskywalker]

NEW FIC(S): Love Songs (Sansa/Various)

Title: Love Songs Part I & II Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire Characters/Pairings: Sansa/Alys Karstark, Sansa/Brienne, Cersei/Sansa, Sansa/Dany, Sansa/Eleyna Westerling, Sansa/Frynne, Sansa/Gwin Goodbrother, Sanas/Harry, Sansa/Irri, Sansa/Jeyne P, Sansa/Loras, Sansa/Myrcella, Ned Dayne/Sansa, Sansa/Olyvar, Podrick/Sansa, Sansa/Quentyn, Sansa/Rhaenys, Sandor/Sansa, Sansa/Tris Botley, Val/Sansa, Sansa/Willas, Sansa/Young Griff, Sansa/Zia Frey, Sansa/OFCs Word Count: 11,397 Summary: An assortment of ficlets for various Sansa pairings, one for each letter of the alphabet.

Read on AO3

[alaynasansa]

Sansa crushing hard on two dark-haired boys joining institutions demanding celibacy for the rest of their lives

[blumenflowergelb]

Love and Soulmates (1/2)

• Well, this day is as good as any other to be a ten name days old, Yn thought. He was sitting on his bed, staring and wondering what he had done to get this. If he was honest with himself, it was theoretically a good thing. However reality was often disappointing. He was in his ten years old body but with his seventeen years old mind. Of course, his actual age does not seem a lot but he was through a lot of shit; from escaping to Bravos to fighting while the Second Long Night to seeing the First Dawn. A journey which he did not wish to relive again. But as always the gods did not care about what a mere human thought. And Yn was sure that the Gods were behind it; even if he didn’t know which one.

• He didn’t know how long he spent lamenting about his life but a knocking on his door brought him out of his slump. It was his sweet sister, Margeary Tyrell. She came inside and begann to talk and talk, her voice cutting through Yn thoughts. She endlessly chatted mostly with herself, however she was not bothered. It was expected from the simpleton. Yes, Yn was a quit strange. He was always different from his siblings, he truly did not like anybody touching him, loud voices and things that were not in order. His fascination with reptiles outright creeped people out; even his oldest brother Willas. But after he fell down a tree and hit his head, he became worse. Loud voices, spinning around or tunes that were monotone left him feel weird. This feeling became so bad that he saw spots and often passed out. Obviously this was something which left him cut out of the better part of society. He did not have friends and even his brothers did not engage with him. Although it was probably because he despised fighting and horses. Fighting made his head spin and horses stank and their fur made him itchy. Nevertheless Margaery adored him. When they were younger Yn allowed her to changed him into women clothes and play tea party. As they got older they did not do this anymore but Margaery still spent a lot of time with Yn.

• The never ending chat of Margaery was a thing that Yn inwardly enjoyed. This was something that he had missed. After years the hurt of losing his family became manageable but it never truly disappeared. And seeing her alive and well was something that left Yn a bitter taste on his tounge. He was happy but he wasn’t. It was hard to explain; Yn was overjoyed to have a chance to change everything but on the other side he had lost people he cared about. Sansa with her fiery hair and face made out of ice, Arya and Rickon, the true wolf out of the Starks, and obviously Jon. Yn loved him. His red eyes and white hair did not make him afraid; only intimated. Yn loved the days where they sat next to each other, listening to the people around them talk and sing and boast. The Free Folk has never lost their hearts even after losing so many. They were the strongest, no matter what the others thought. Even the Long Night did not make the people of Westeros nice to them. Most still sneered and spat on them. But in Yn minds they were wrong. The Free Folk was the first place where the people didn’t care if he talked until he did his share of hunting and doing his chores. And he always did. Especially because of Jon. After Yn came back hunting he always smiled at Yn like he brought him the stars. The memory which always made him slightly blush and smile, now made him frown and his heart ache. Jon didn’t know him. Nobody did.

• This did not escape Margaerys‘ sight. However she interpreted the long face of Yn as a fear of what was going to happen. She was excited, especially because her brother was seen as an outsider. This was his chance to find the one who would love and take care of him for ever. She hoped that the woman was going to be very beautiful and very very good-hearted. She crawled closer to Yn and slowly caressed his cheeks. Whenever she looked at him she felt an overwhelming love. She truly loved her brother.

• Before Yn could blink he was spirited to his grandmother. Usually she was sitting outside with his mother and ten other girls. They all talked and Olenna crooked out her offensive opinions. Well usually. Today however was not usual. She sat still, facing the beautiful garden of Highgarden but only her son was there. As Yn arrived he only heard snippets of ‘money’, ‘cost’ and weirdly ‘fated’. Once he was standing before them, his grandmother shut his father up with a quick wave and smiled at Yn. He was not stupid, he knew that there was something wrong. His grandmother never smiled at him; she tried to conserve with him as little as she could. He was held in a higher regard than his cousins but it was clear that he was her least favourite. Nonetheless now she was smiling at him. Not only she was looking kind but she even ordered his favourite food, lemon cakes. At this Sansa flashed in Yn‘s mind. They shared a love for lemon cakes and every time they fought over the last piece. But his grandmother’s speech left his memory quickly fade away and fear replaced it. She talked about his ten and one nameday next day and a fated mark, the Will of the Seven, soulmates, the cost of his wedding and which people are going to be invited. Mace tried to talk but whenever he opened his mouth Olenna hushed him. Once she was done she stood up, kissed Yn‘s cheek and ordered her twin guards to her. But before she left Yn and Mace alone she turned around and sent a glare towards her son, telling him that it was time. This left Yn dreading whatever was coming.

• The awkward silence was not broken until Mace sighed, took a lemon cake and begann to eat. After some humming he was done and leaned back on his chair, hand folded over his stomach. He begann to humm some more and sighed again. Once Yn heard the famous sentence ‘ You know son, there are things which a man must tell their son.’ he knew he was done. But before he could stand up his father took an other lemon cake, quickly ate that and looked deeply in Yn‘s eyes. The conservation which followed was one of the most mortifying thing Yn has ever experienced. Not even seeing hundreds of dead people could make him as sick as this. His father talked and talked about girls and boys and their differences down there. Than he went over talking about babies, which then led him to gush about how damm cute all his children were. This was followed by him talking about weddings and ceremonien and the most important: bedding. At this point Yn has given up. He was less than a day in this world and he was given The Talk. And he couldn’t even tell his father that he knew! Well not much about women but more about men. And well not men but about Jon. He was the first and last person Yn has ever been intimate with. This confirmed Yn that he was a indeed a pillow bitter but he could hardly tell his father about that.

• One thing that was new to Yn were the soulmates. He was sure that they didn’t have that. After thinking long about what it meant, Yn decided that he was not in the same world in which he spent majority of his life. And that soulmates were cool. Almost everybody had them, from the lowest to the highest person on earth. Only men and women without a mark could become a maester, septon/ septa or priest. The marks were seen as godly and everybody had to obey to them. Breaking apart a bond like that was seen as a grave mistake and death was the punishment for who tried to break it apart. The good thing about the soulmark was the way it appeared. There were marks that displayed a picture of all kinds, some were words; some sentences. They were marks that only appeared when the soulmates touched or looked at each other. Some lost the colour of their sights and could only seen any kind of colour once they looked in each other’s eyes. Some had compasses that showed where their other was located, some had quotes that matched, others had half their hair the colour of their soulmate’s. This manifested once they had their ten and one nameday. And Yn had his the next day.

• He didn’t care about his birthday. It passed in a frenzy and once he was sent to his chambers to wait and sleep, he was in ecstasy. He wanted to stay up the whole night but the maester told him that he had to sleep so that the Will of the Gods would fulfill in secret. No human was allowed to see the manifestation. Still Yn could barely sleep. He was trembling with fear and excitement. He wanted a soulmate but was affraid to get one. The idea of not having one left him feeling devastated so he didn’t think about it. He wanted Jon but was affraid of who he was now. He wanted and wanted but was affraid of so many things until he fell asleep. Dawn was barely coming when Yn felt a horrible burning on his left wrist. It left him gasping and crying but the manifestation was done. He got a compass pointing towards the North. It was golden but elegant and had a quote around the compass saying, ‘Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle’. And if you looked closely there were six direwolf, each different, running around and playfighting. It was perfect, Yn whispered to himself with tears escaping his eyes.

• The second he left his room he was jumped on by Margaery. She led him to the dinning room to break their fast while talking and talking. One minute she wanted to see the mark, the next minute she didn’t until they were with the whole family. They quickly arrived and his family was immediately on Yn. Once they saw the compass and closely inspected it, they all fell silent until Margaery laughed. Better said she cried while laughing and gave a big hug to Yn. While they hugged, Mace begann to plan a letter for Ned Stark. Even for him was clear that his son was meant for one of wolf blood.

• Olenna slowly fanned herself. It was hot for her age; she was not as young and agile as she once was. Undertaking such a big journey to Winterfell from Highgarden had affected her health negatively. Regardless, she was sure that she would crawl to Winterfell if it must be. She would never pass such an opportunity. And she was needed to talk to his grandsons future father-in-law. She was throughly thinking about all the possibilities that their journey could mean and what she had to do for the better of her house. Such an union between great houses was not seen since decades, especially between a fourth son and a bastard. Olenna was sure that it was the bastard that was the soulmate of her simpleton but kind hearted grandson. If not then why did Lady Catelyn not boast about one of her children being the soulmate of a Tyrell? She was after all a Tully, a very proud house, Olenna thought. The marriage could mean a lot for the Tyrells. A lot of good and bad. Olenna could only hope that if the bastard was the one then her little spies were not wrong about his father’s affection. Nobody needed an alliance with a bastard that held no power. She even entertained the idea of overthrowing the bastard brother‘s but quickly desposed of it. The Starks were too loyal. And the compass showed enough. Six direwolfs playing. This could only mean one thing. Her inner discussion was stoped once a loud knock was heard. She opened the side pannel and looked at one of her twin guards. She burrowed her eyebrows after she heard her foolish grandson riding out to meet his future beloved.

• Winterfell was as big as ever, Yn decided. It certainly looked better than the last time he saw it. It was huge and dark. But it was warm; and that is what mattered. He knew that the walls were warm with spring water and that the halls were always kept warm. He couldn’t wait to bath and bask in the memory of Winterfell and their occupants. And to see Jon again. As excited he was, he was as fearful. He was sure that Jon and him were meant to be together, but still. It was weird and new and they were so young. Jon was not older than ten and three, an age which Yn has never seen him. The worst thing was the people he traveled with. Lord Stark has invited hundred of people of the North and South and thousands came. The North wanted to see House Stark marry as a rich House as the Tyrells and the South wished to see House Stark and the North. This journey and wedding meant a lot of new alliances and weddings for the Realm. Even the King has journeyed to the North, but Yn was sure that he wasn’t there for the wedding. Not truly. It was Ned he was there for. Saddly Jon Arryn was not able to attend since he did not want to leave the rest of the Realm behind. What surprised Yn was that the Martells sent Oberyn Martell and his paramour as guests. It meant that they were planning something. Or they were simply affraid that the Reach allied with the North that can give them enough timber for a new war.

• Yn felt butterflies fighting in his stomach. He was so nervous that even Garlan commented on his suddenly disappearing horse riding abilities. To this Renly begann to joke around about riding what else and instead of shutting him down Garlan laughed with him. If Yn wasn’t as nervous he would have told them already off. Shortly before they arrived Willas slowed them down and talked about whom Yn had to greet firstly and what to do. Even the common courtesies flew over Yn’s head. He hoped that he would not make a fool of himself because if he did he would die. Maybe the rumour of him being a simpleton would minder the embarrassment but Yn did not want to make a fool out of Jon. While Yn was deep in his thoughts they arrived at the gates. Everybody sat straighter and rode inside the castle.

• Yn was sure that he was going to die. His compass was going crazy, the pointer spinning around, meaning that his soulmate was very close. And he was. The first thing he saw was Jon and the first thing he did was blushing. He felt his face light on fire and he was sure that everybody saw that. He was so embarrassed that he didn’t even look at the Starks. The worst was when he almost feel down his horse and if not for Loras he would have facepalmed the earth. He saw Loras trying to hide his chuckle but as always he couldn’t. This made Yn face more redder, his ears were so hot that he wanted to just jump in the next snow pile. And than he had to walk to the Starks and greet each of them. Ned Stark was an imposing man, and even bigger when you were only ten and two namedays old. His eyes hid a certain amusement and he kindly greeted Yn. Lady Catelyn was even kinder and hoped that their visit went well. The next person was Robb. He was cute but Yn understood why he was made King so early on. He looked like his ladymother but his eyes shone like his fathers. However the next person took Yn‘s breath away. He went redder than he thought to be possible and shyly held out his right hand. There was hope in Jon‘s beautiful dark grey eyes, but it was replaced with uncertainty once they touched each other hands. It was clear that he expected something more from the contact but was greatly disappointed. Yn moved on, after he saw this, and greated the girls and Bran with enthusiasm. Rickon was not there, but Yn knew that it must be because he was still a babe. After they were done with the greetings and talking, Lady Catelyn sent servant go show each if them a room, while excusing the lack of grand food. She told them that they expected them to arrive the next day and could only offer them a humble feast. Yn obviously had to make himself more foolish and told the lady that they came early because he was excited. At this even Willas had a hard time not laughing and while they walked away Yn had to hit him with his elbow to shut up. Once they were out of hearing range, his brothers recreated everything and Renly instead of helping, laughed with them. Yn was mortified enough to not even say goodbye to them and he just shut his door. His chamber was very big and beautifully filled with furs and other animal skins but Yn couldn’t appreciate it. Without a second he jumped on his bed and hid his face in a soft pillow. He was so flustered, especially seeing Jon‘s face fall, that he decided to never move again. Well until a servant brought him warm water. After he cleaned himself and spent an embarrassingly long time to decide what to wear, he went out to look for his brothers and Renly. Then they went to the feast. After Yn saw what was set in the table he thought that if this was not seen by Lady Catelyn as grand than what was grandiose? For being in the North, where every grain mattered, it was rich. He knew that for Renly and even Loras, as vain and proud they were, this would not seem to be anything big;but for Yn it was. He saw firsthandedly what people ate in the Winter.

• The food was good, the conservation was firstly awkward but the Garlan and Renly begann to talk and it was good again. Yn didn’t speak but nobody seemed to mind. Robb openly stared at him, even when Jon discreetly poked him, and Arya and Bran were so captured by Garlan telling them stories of his training that they barely ate. Sansa spent her time looking at Loras and Renly. Willas was entertaining Lady Catelyn and Lord Stark listened to everything and only said something if it was necessary. Jon sometimes looked up from his food only go meet Yn‘s eyes, who then averted his gaze and once even let his fork fall. Everybody was kind enough to not say anything but Yn only became more flustered. After they were done Yn felt Jon‘s gaze follow him and he thanked the Gods for not making him trip. They did not converse on the way to their rooms and Yn again thanked the Gods for not making his brothers make fun of him. After that he quickly readied himself for bed and after Willas came in to say good night he walked around his new room. They were bear and elk furs and Yn was sure that the skin belonged to a boar. The tapestries were beautifully done and Yn could not marvel enough. While he tried to remember from whom he the story of the tapestry knew, Jon came in his room. Yn turned around and greeted him only for Jon to not move. Yn did not move either, so they looked at each other, assessing everything about the other. Yn felt his knees getting weaker the longer he spent looking at Jon. He was truly beautiful and breathtaking. After some more silence Jon moved towards Yn and held his right hand out. Yn held his hand out too and once they touched Jon frowned, but did not ask. He left his hand fall in disappointment but before he could speak Yn touched his arm with his left. The burn was strong but once it ebbed away both felt an overwhelming sensation of love and adoration. Yn cradled their hand together and pulled Jon to himself. Jon slowly caressed Yn‘s face, as if he was something valuable and then leaned to his face. The small kiss they shared made Yn‘s heart fly higher than a bird and left him feeling like he could burst to flames. It was perfect and even after Jon left, Yn couldn’t help but replay their kiss again and again.

[snake-berry]

@melrosing 's asoiaf art meme! incredibly nostalgic to complete 10/10 experience

excuse the shittier quality of my drawings i was trying to keep it simple <3

typed out my notes under the cut bc my handwriting is illegible

Introduce yourself as a citizen of PLANETOS - Either a Blackwood or a Bracken (ironic), probably a member of the Dead Ladies Club, married to an old man or a cheater or something. hates life and simmers with internal rage

What do you like best about ASOIAF? the emotions... (and by extension the characters)... i was spoiled for ned's death but still cried for an hour when i read it

Who is your favorite character (dead or alive)? Sansa Stark <3 my fave since her first chapter and im not sorry

Your favorite house? Stark and Baratheon (+ lots of minor houses). Drew young Ned and Robert to represent their houses (included stick figures of them to show robert's stance he is bending tf down to fit into frame)

What's the best scene in the books (in your opinion)? King in the North scene in AGOT! (actually i have no idea but for some reason this was the first scene to come to mind)

A ship you like? CatNed, Loras&Renly, and Daensa (in the fanfic zone bc they havent met yet

Your favorite death (since this is ASOIAF)? Ned's... most iconic death + made me cry the most

Your favorite region of Planetos? the riverlands!

Who is your endgame King or Queen of Westeros? King Bran! Or Dany but bc of the sh*w ending im like p sure Bran is the most likely candidate (i could be wrong but ya idk i support my son either way)

Share a prediction for The Winds of Winter - Sansa will be Littlefinger's downfall (not in a way as bloody as my dramatic rendition tho)

It's over! As a parting gift, resurrect a character of your choice - Renly :) no reason i just think it would be funny (his hat says party prince king if u cant see it i triedddd)

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 11)

WARNINGS: Mentions of sex

Word Count: 9.3k

—————

Cersei was rather conflicted when it came to the news she’d received. On one hand, she was glad to not be marrying Loras Tyrell anymore, but on the other, she was absolutely furious about the fact that her father had given Sansa Stark up. Tyrion was supposed to marry her, not the heir to Highgarden.

And when she considered why this was happening, her anger only grew. You. You were the reason this change had taken place. You were the reason that her brother had gotten off the hook. Well, he would remain unmarried. For now, at least. 

Still, she could not comprehend why in the seven hells her father had entirely changed his mind after a single conversation with you, and for that reason she was currently clutching her skirts as she went up the stairs in the Tower of the Hand. 

Cersei had considered that perhaps her father was fucking you, but she did not want to accept that as the truth. Tywin Lannister—in her mind, at least—did not fuck whores, so why would he bother with you? As far as she was concerned, he found you tolerable at best. That was what made this whole change in plans so much more confusing.

It was also how she had come back to one conclusion: the Tyrells were manipulating her family. You, in specific, were manipulating her father. And that was something she would not stand for. She simply had to make the Hand of the King understand it as she did.

Cersei approached the double doors to her father’s office, barely glancing at the guards stationed there. Normally she would’ve waited for them to knock and announce her, but not today. She reached for the handles herself, pushing open the doors despite the guards futile attempts to stop her. 

When she entered her father’s office, she did not find him at his desk as she had expected. Instead, he was sitting at the long table eating lunch, and you were standing behind him, kneading his shoulders. Cersei felt disgusted by it, for she could see the way her father was enjoying your touch. She’d seen plenty of men make the exact same face, but never her father. It was entirely disturbing.

When you noticed her standing there, you did not panic, you simply smiled at her and naturally removed your hands from Tywin. His closed eyes opened, and he raised an eyebrow at his daughter.

“Good afternoon, Lady (Y/N). I hope you will forgive me, there’s something I wish to discuss with my father,” Cersei said with a false grin, feeling the anger rising inside her as she noticed that there was a second plate on the table. Her father had invited you for lunch with him. Since when did Tywin Lannister dine with another?

“Of course, Lady Cersei. There is nothing to forgive,” you replied formally, looking down at Tywin and giving him a soft look before folding your hands together and walking toward the double doors. Cersei held her false smile until you left and she heard the wooden slamming behind her.

She turned to her father, who currently looked unbelievably annoyed.

“Having lunch with Lady (Y/N), Father?” Cersei asked, watching him rise from the table and clean up the two plates. He’d have a servant come and fetch them later. 

“Clearly. At least I was until you interrupted,” he replied pointedly, gazing over at his daughter with a slight anger. He had been rather enjoying the lunch until now.

“Forgive me for taking away your precious time with the sweet, beautiful, and intelligent Lady (Y/N). I’ve come to discuss something serious with you,” she said, receiving satisfaction from the upset look on her fathers face as she mocked you. Perhaps she’d found a weak spot, and it had only taken 40 years.

“Which is what?”

Tywin had moved to his desk now, decidedly ready to continue writing letters now that one of the only people who could truly hold his focus was gone. 

“Oh please, don’t play dumb. I want to discuss the Tyrells and you know that,” Cersei answered sharply, pulling out her chair and sitting down before her father. Tywin only sighed.

“And what is it about them that you’ve come to discuss?”

There was silence for a moment, causing Tywin to merely lift his eyes from the parchment he’d begun to write on. His daughter was only smiling. 

“The arrangement. I want to speak about why Loras Tyrell is marrying Sansa Stark again. She was to wed Tyrion—now she’s not.”

“Rather observant of you.”

The Lord Hand went on writing, and the Queen found herself wondering how she’d never had an advantage in a conversation with her father, not even a single time. She sat taller, though deep down she knew it did not make a difference.

“I’m simply curious as to how that change came to be.”

“As I noted to both you and Tyrion, Lady Tyrell and I had quite the discussion upon the subject; I compromised,” Tywin explained, finally raising his eyes from the parchment before him on the desk. Cersei found herself laughing.

“Since when does Tywin Lannister compromise?”

“When it makes sense to do so. I would also like to remind you that you’re getting out of a wedding because of her. You know I certainly had no qualms about it.”

“Ah, of course, I’m certain it was me she had in mind when asking you to call off the wedding.”

“Either way, you are no longer marrying Loras Tyrell. I fail to understand what you’re so upset about.”

Cersei grinded her teeth together, gripping the arms of her chair and leaning forward. “I am upset about the fact that you are willingly giving House Tyrell power. You said it yourself, they’re attempting to steal the key to the north. Suddenly that’s perfectly alright with you?” 

“Yes, it is. Their betrothal will sustain an important alliance for another generation through Tyrion’s children and will simultaneously give us access to the north. Not to mention, the match may become increasingly useful,” Tywin replied, much to his daughter’s confusion. 

“Useful?”

“To the war effort. It is not a concern of yours.”

Cersei felt anger bubbling inside of her. Her father always did this—he always spoke down to her. She was the King’s mother, did she not have a right to know what was going on? 

“I don’t trust Lady Tyrell. Nor should you.”

“And why is that?” Tywin questioned rather drolly, looking back down at his paper. He was in no mood for his daughter’s hysterics. 

“She’s manipulating you, just as her sister is manipulating Joffrey,” Cersei said, trying to hide how anxious she was. Her father’s judgment was harsh, and she could not let her argument crumble under his scrutiny.

“Is that so? And tell me, how is Lady Tyrell manipulating me?” Tywin asked, cocking an eyebrow at his daughter to suggest that what she had just said was utterly stupid. Cersei took a deep breath, attempting to control her frustration.

“That ring. She gave it to you, didn’t she? Had it made off of her sword,” she said, nodding toward his left hand. Tywin glanced down at the jewelry and hummed an affirmation.

“Yes, she did. I fail to see how that suggests she is manipulating me.”

“She’s giving you gifts to win you over, Father. She plants seeds in your head, watering them with pleasantries. You’re too distracted to watch them grow.”

“I have given her gifts as well. Not only that, but you’re acting as if I find material objects to be some precious thing. It is not as if I couldn’t buy myself whatever I wanted.”

That was a lie, for Tywin could not buy the love he had felt when you’d given him that ring. He could not buy the swell in his chest whenever he looked at it. He could not buy the friendship that had been suggested with the object.

Cersei only stared at her father, and suddenly the thought from earlier came back to her. She could not hold back the urge to mention it, because doing so might be all telling.

“You’re fucking her, aren’t you?”

Suddenly, and somewhat—very—frighteningly, Tywin’s posture straightened and fire filled his eyes. As he set his quill down, Cersei could see the clench in her father’s jaw.

“You said there was something serious to discuss, but if you’ve come here to make ridiculous and false accusations, then leave.”

“I didn’t come here to insinuate that, but I walked in and she had her pretty little hands all over you. I saw your face, Father, you were leaning into her touch, eyes closed in pure bliss. All the while, you don’t realize she’s digging her claws into you, manipulating you. Tyrion was supposed to marry Sansa Stark, and now he’s not, simply because that Highgarden bitch told you not to marry them and you listened,” Cersei hissed, watching her father rise from his chair with a distinct fire in his eyes. Her nails were digging into the wood of her seat. 

“Be careful, Cersei,” he warned, only intending to do so once. He did not intend to tolerate this disrespect toward both him and you. 

“Please tell me you’re only sleeping with her and that you don’t actually… no. That’s not possible…” she trailed off, looking up at Tywin with something close to bewilderment. It was not possible that he felt any real affection for you, was it? Surely Tywin Lannister would only ever have one love, and it was Cersei’s mother.

“I am not sleeping with her, nor do I feel any attraction toward her. I trust and respect Lady (Y/N), that is all. I won’t have you questioning me upon this absurd subject.”

“Oh yes, that’s it. You respect her. If anyone is being absurd, it is certainly not me. You respect Lady Olenna quite a lot, Father, and the way you look at her is nowhere near the same,” Cersei huffed out with disbelief, suddenly infuriated that her father could not provide any real excuse. She didn’t want to believe that he had feelings for you, and yet this conversation was making it abundantly obvious that he did.

“Lady Olenna is an alliance, her granddaughter is a friend. There’s a very large difference,” Tywin said sharply, wishing for the conversation to end more than anything else. This was not a subject he wished to discuss with anyone, and doing so with Cersei made it ten times worse.

“Since when does Tywin Lannister have friends? The last friend you had betrayed you in every way imaginable, I have a hard time believing you were so willing to accept Lady (Y/N). Either she’s an ally, or you’re fucking her, and clearly she’s more to you than just an alliance,” Cersei laughed to herself, feeling angry for various reasons that she couldn’t place. Your sister had power over her son and you had power over her father. How was that even possible?

“I am not bedding Lady (Y/N), and that’s the last time I’m going to say it, Cersei. This discussion is over.”

“Then why does she have so much power over you? She’s plotting against us and you’re too preoccupied to notice.” Cersei rose now too, planting her knuckles into the table and leaning toward her father as she continued to make her point. “You’re sacrificing the Lannister legacy and for what? For a nice pair of tits and ass that you could find on any common whore?”

Cersei felt her stomach drop when she saw her fathers eyes widen. She could not recall the last time she’d seen such an intense anger in his eyes, and before she could move back, a loud ‘thwack’ filled the room. 

Tywin smacked her across the face, using the back of his hand no less. Cersei stepped back in shock and raised a hand to her face, she could not even recall the last time her father had hit her. Even then, it most assuredly had not been so violent. His valyrian steel ring had cut her face, and she could feel the distinct burning there.

As Tywin looked at his daughter, he saw her for what she was : a hurt little girl. For a moment, guilt filled him. He shouldn’t have hit Cersei, he knew that. How could he hit a face that looked so much like Joanna’s?

“I apologize… I should not have hurt you, Cersei. But I did warn you. I will take your insults toward me with anger, but you will watch your tongue when you talk about Lady (Y/N). I’m tired of your foolishness and insecurity. She’s not plotting anything against us, in fact, she is plotting for us,” Tywin said with a low tone, and somewhat too calmly. There was something deadly about the way he was speaking, almost as though he was fighting back an explosive rage.

Cersei fell back into her chair and gazed up at her father with tears beginning to pool in her eyes. She recalled her mother smacking her for being particularly rude, and she simultaneously recalled how upset it had made her. She now regretted being so angry toward her mother.

“You may not want to believe me, Father, but Lady (Y/N) is plotting against us. Her, Margaery, and Olenna. They’re all plotting, and I know it,” Cersei said softly, looking up for just a few seconds before looking back down.

“Perhaps once you tell me what exactly it is that they’re plotting, I’ll believe you. Until then, I don’t want to hear anymore about the Tyrells from you,” Tywin responded, subtle fury dripping off of every word. His guilt had faded, for she had only brought this upon herself. In fact, when he looked at Cersei he couldn’t help but sneer. 

“You disgrace me. You disgrace House Lannister with all of your insecurities, not to mention your lack of willingness to be civil with the people around you. You’re not ruling all seven kingdoms, Cersei, I am. The only reason Westeros isn’t in complete ruin is because I know what needs to be done to keep it intact, which includes having allies, something you don’t seem to think you need. I’ve told you before, the reason I distrust you is not because you’re a woman, let Lady Tyrell be proof. You’re seeking to tear down a strong alliance because you’re afraid that your son will find comfort in another woman. Between your paranoid fantasies and the food, wealth, and men that the Tyrells are providing us with, I am going to pick the latter option every single time.”

The only sound in the room then was quiet breathing, and though Tywin was staring into Cersei’s skull, she did not have it in her to look up at her father. She only attempted to open her mouth after a minute or so, but was quickly stopped.

“No. I don’t want to hear your voice, or your opinions, right now. Get out and thank the gods you’re my daughter.”

“Father-“

“Out!”

The room seemed to shake with the intensity of Tywin’s voice, and Cersei cowardly stood before her father. He watched a single tear steam down her face with an annoyed silence. He wished her to leave, and that was all. 

And leave she did, keeping her head low as she approached the door. Cersei did not want anyone to see the scar or—even worse—the tears on her face; it would’ve been too embarrassing. 

As the door shut behind his daughter, Tywin took several deep breaths. Falling back into his chair, he sighed and leaned his head back. Cersei, in his mind, was clearly delusional, because how could you be plotting against him? All you had ever done was provide solid advice, and all that your family wanted was to make Margaery queen and give Loras a suitable bride.

But, besides that, he had this overwhelming guilt in knowing that Cersei was right about one thing: he was undeniably attracted to you. Even then, that was an understatement. Tywin waved away the thought frequently, but he knew deep down that he was in love with you. Your smile was his favorite sight, just as your voice was his favorite sound. He could not stand the thought of being away from you for any extended amount of time, and often while talking to you, he wanted to do nothing more than pull you close and press his lips to yours. 

And much to his embarrassment, that was not all he felt for you. When he allowed himself to think about it, he knew he wanted to kiss you, and then suck at your neck. Tywin wished to disrobe you and lay you across his bed, or even just push you down on his desk. Perhaps then he would bury his face between your thighs, gripping the flesh there as you arched into his mouth. And once he was finished with that, he would enjoy your warmth around him and listen to the sweet hum of his name falling from your lips. 

Those thoughts were the dangerous ones, and the ones that ate away at him frequently. How could he see you that way when surely the most you saw him as was a friend? How could he betray your trust that way?

If you had any inkling of the way he thought about you, he was certain that you would be disgusted, and he hated himself for it. Something that had happened to you years ago was still eating away at you, he could see it in your eyes, and surely his feelings for you were precisely what you feared because of that. 

Of course, Tywin would never act on such emotions, he was better than that. They had kept him awake in bed more than once, but that was all. He would never hurt you that way, for it was utterly unimaginable to do so. All he cared for was your safety and your happiness, and for that reason, he was perfectly content to remain your friend alone. To talk to you, to see you laugh. That was more than enough for the Great Lion of the Rock.

—————

“Loras?”

When I entered my brother's room, I found him sitting on the edge of his bed, staring out the window. He looked back at me when he heard his name.

“(Y/N),” he greeted softly, patting the space next to him for me to come sit down. I did so with nerves in my stomach, for I had not a single clue how to start this conversation. 

“Loras, I thought I should talk to you about the bedding ceremony. I know you said you were fine with it, but are you feeling alright now?” I asked slowly. It was my brother’s wedding day, which even I was having a hard time processing.

Loras stiffened beside me, and I felt horrible. A bedding was tradition, and yet I knew my brother was absolutely dreading it. I couldn’t say I blamed him, for I expected that my wedding would bring the same emotional turmoil.

“I know what’s expected of me, that’s all there is to it,” Loras whispered in reply. When I turned to look at him, there was a deep sadness in his eyes. I pulled him into my arms, and he buried his face into my neck. 

“It’s going to be hard, I’m not going to lie to you. And I know it doesn’t- doesn’t work that way, but if you find yourself overwhelmed, perhaps try closing your eyes,” I suggested, not sure what else would be helpful. He only nodded, and I sighed. 

“I love you so much, Loras. I know you’ve felt pressure as the heir to Highgarden, but I just want you to be safe and secure. I’m sorry that it means you need to be uncomfortable and unhappy,” I whispered, letting my hand come to his hair. I petted it gently, just as I had done when he was a child. 

“It’s not- it’s not even that. I’ve always known I’d need to marry and have children, I just- it would be so much easier if not for Renly,” he said softly, pulling away to face me. There were tears in his eyes, and I felt my heart breaking. 

“I know, Loras, I know. I’m so sorry, my dear boy.”

He began to cry, and I pulled him back into my shoulder. 

“I knew he’d have to have kids too, I just thought- I just thought perhaps we’d both be able to stay together through it all. I loved him, (Y/N)… I loved him so much,” he sobbed, pulling away again and shaking his head. 

“I know you loved him, Loras, and I’m so sorry.” I cupped his face and wiped his tears with my thumbs. He only looked down, not able to meet my eyes.

“At least my wedding will be grand, I’ve always looked forward to having a beautiful wedding,” he muttered with a gentle smile, finding a small joy to focus on. I kissed his forehead, holding his face as I did.

“Not to mention, you look extremely handsome,” I added, admiring his coat. It was a light green with golden roses sewed into the fabric, and I found that he looked every bit the Lord of Highgarden. It was a strange thought to consider.

“Thank you. You’re certainly going to catch Lord Tywin’s attention with that,” Loras grinned widely now, motioning to my dress. It was pastel pink and dipped down just below my breasts, pushing them together slightly. Of course, there were also the signature gold accents that no Tyrell was free of. 

“Oh please, enough of that. Have grandmother and Margaery also forced you into it?” I asked, scoffing and shaking my head with disapproval. It was utterly ridiculous that the entire family wished to embarrass me this way.

“Grandmother and Margaery have noticed it too? Who am I kidding, of course they have,” Loras thought out loud, beginning to laugh. I gaped at him, shocked that he’d come to this conclusion all on his own. Had they all gone utterly mad?

“Oh stop it! It is seriously not possible that you are also so delusional,” I sputtered, still bewildered at the fact even Loras seemed to believe I was in love with Tywin. 

“Oh please, sister, you mustn't lie. You can tell me, I promise not to tease you or tell Margaery,” he said, eyebrows lifting with a sweet excitement. I waved my hand with refusal as I stood up.

“There is nothing to discuss. Come, Loras, we ought to leave for the sept.”

My brother nodded, and he anxiously kneaded the inside of his palm as he took a deep breath. Today was entirely overwhelming for him, I had no doubt of that. 

I reached for my brother’s hand, taking it in mine and giving it a squeeze. He looked up at me and mustered the best smile that he could before rising from his seat. I took his arm and pressed my other hand to his cheek.

“I love you, Loras.”

“I love you more, sister.”

“Impossible.”

“Yes, just as you having feelings for Lord Tywin is.”

I smacked his arm, and we both laughed a bit as we left the room. We spent the rest of our journey to the sept chatting, and I was grateful for the fact that I’d been given a brother like Loras. He was occasionally somewhat hot tempered and stubborn, but then again, so was I.

When we arrived at the sept, Loras was immediately speechless. My grandmother had spared no expense with the decorations, and he seemed overjoyed. The rest of our family was already present, and so were a great deal of other nobles, including Tywin. 

When I’d set my eyes upon him, I had suddenly become just as speechless as Loras had been. Tywin was wearing a coat I’d never seen him in before. It was black leather, just as most of his were, but his shoulders had ornate, golden lions on them, surrounded by fine designs. Not to mention the gold clips down the front of his coat. He looked every bit ‘The Great Lion of the Rock.’

“Seems you’re both trying to impress each other,” Loras whispered suddenly, forcing me to pull my eyes away from the Lord Hand. I simply scoffed and hit my brother’s shoulder. He laughed and put his hands up defensively, clearly enjoying my annoyance. 

Though, as I looked back over at Tywin, I couldn’t help biting my lip. He was magnificent, and delightfully distracted in a conversation with Lord Varys, which allowed me to admire him shamelessly. He looked so tall, so strong in that coat. Surely noticing that wasn’t anything odd, it was merely an observation that any sane person would make. 

After a few minutes, Tywin seemingly bid Lord Varys goodbye and turned around. My eyes were somehow the first that he caught, and his face softened when he saw me. He came straight towards my brother and I, and as I took him in completely I was speechless. Not to mention, whatever scent he was wearing was especially nice.

“Ser Loras, Lady (Y/N),” Tywin greeted with a nod, striding up to us and stopping. Loras smiled and returned the gesture with a brief ‘Lord Tywin’.

“How are you feeling?” He clasped his hands together behind his back, standing even straighter than before. Gods, he was tall.

“Quite ecstatic, Lord Tywin. My grandmother spared no expense for the ceremony and I’m sure the same will be said of the feast. Not to mention, I’m certain Lady Sansa will look lovely,” he said, giving Tywin a somewhat cunning look. He knew exactly what to say, and it gave me a strange sense of pride. 

“Of course. You must be excited to marry such a beautiful woman,” Tywin noted, making me slightly irritated. His questioning was childish, and I had no doubt he wanted to watch Loras crack, simply to prove that he was right in not wanting my brother to marry Sansa Stark.

“I most definitely am. And, speaking of beautiful women, does not my sister look positively stunning today?” Loras said with a rather suggestive tone, simply grinning at Tywin as he gestured to me. The Great Lion looked me up and down and held my eyes for a few seconds, a curious look on his face as he did.

“Yes… she does. You look breathtaking, Lady (Y/N),” Tywin said softly, reaching out and taking my hand. He raised it to his lips, and my breath caught in my throat for some reason. My brother watching us with his accusing gaze didn’t make it any less awkward, I reasoned.

“Thank you, Lord Tywin. You look quite handsome in that coat. I’ve never seen you wear it before,” I replied genuinely, admiring the details more closely now that he was standing before me. 

“No, you certainly wouldn’t have. It’s new,” he explained, to which I nodded. He’d let go of my hand, and the air around it felt cold now.

“It suits you well,” I complimented, though somewhat anxiously. Tywin muttered a soft ‘thank you’ and then swallowed. There was silence for a moment, only interrupted by Loras coughing.

“I’m going to go socialize, sister, I will see you after the ceremony,” he said, placing his hand on my arm before grinning and leaving me with Tywin. When my brother was gone, I gave the Lord Hand a sharp look.

“You shouldn’t have prodded him like that.”

“I needed to make sure nothing had changed now that he is actually getting married,” he replied, to which I sighed and crossed my arms.

“I discussed the bedding ceremony with him beforehand, he’s nervous and uncomfortable but will be fine. Plus, even if he and Sansa struggle tonight, he is aware of his duties.”

“I meant it, you do look beautiful in that dress,” Tywin said, suddenly switching the topic as though it didn’t even matter to him to begin with. I instantly looked up at him, somewhat surprised. Where had that come from? There was heat rising in my face now.

“I meant what I said too. You look… tall… in this coat,” I replied quietly, looking him up and down rather bashfully. I noticed his cheeks turn a sweet shade of pink, and with the sun shining in from the sept windows, his eyes were the most gorgeous shade of turquoise and blue I’d ever seen. 

Tywin cleared his throat, glancing down at the ground before speaking. “It must be shocking to watch your younger siblings get married now.”

“It is. I’ve been many things, but being their older sister has always been the most important to me and in that role it is astonishing to think they’re going to have wives and husbands, not to mention children,” I reflected sentimentally, thinking about the fact that in my mind, Loras and Margaery were still children themselves. I could swear that just yesterday, Loras and I had been playing in the river near Highgarden, swimming and skipping stones. What had happened to that?

“I was the eldest among my siblings as well. I remember all their weddings, some more fondly than others. My sister, Genna, wed one of Walder Frey’s sons. I was furious with my father for allowing the match. Emmon Frey wasn’t even the heir, he was the second son. My sister deserved much more than that,” he grumbled bitterly, shaking his head as he contemplated it. 

“And yet you’re going to marry one of his daughters to Tyrion,” I pointed out, raising an eyebrow at the irony of it all.

“It matters much less who a man marries than who a woman does. It’s about time Tyrion married, anyway.” Tywin looked over his shoulder to find his son speaking with my grandmother. I smiled and made a small note to ask what they had discussed later on.

“Well, I suppose that’s true. It’s been pointed out to me many times. My father has been gracious in not forcing me to marry just yet, but I fear now that my younger siblings are doing so, it won’t be long until I meet the same fate,” I said with a sigh, wishing I could ignore the fact that my father only grew more frustrated with me each passing moment. My days as a free woman were numbered. 

“One of his daughters is marrying the king, and his son is marrying Sansa Stark. He ought to be content for now,” Tywin said, eyes falling upon my father. The Lord Hand almost looked upset, though I paid it little mind.

“He will never be satisfied until I am married. He fears people will worry that somehow I’m ruined, though the truth of it is I don’t think any men are brave enough to subject themselves to me,” I said, to which Tywin gave a gentle chuckle. He dared not to give his usual laugh, others would hear. 

“Am I the only one brave enough thus far?” He asked with a teasing grin. 

“The Great Lion ought to be. But no, I mean romantically, of course. Plenty of men have called themselves my friend, especially because I am the head of my army, but I don’t suppose any of them see me romantically. Even if they did, my father would never allow it for obvious reasons. Not only that but… well…” I trailed off, sighing and grabbing my arms for comfort. I found myself staring at the stone floor, only looking up when Tywin’s finger came to my chin and lifted it.

“But what?” he asked softly, a look of genuine concern on his face. I licked my lips anxiously, swallowing before taking a deep breath.

“But my last… involvement with a soldier did not- did not end very well for me,” I muttered, only able to hold his eye contact for a second or two a time. Tywin softened, suddenly realizing what I was insinuating. Slowly but surely, he was piecing together what had happened to me.

“Someday, (Y/N), I pray you find a husband that protects and cares for you. Someone who will make you forget that man’s existence altogether.”

“As hard as I try, Tywin, I will never forget his existence. Such is the burden of being a woman. That is why I’ve learned to protect myself—to the best of my abilities, anyway,” I said firmly, looking deep into his eyes to let him know I was serious. For even Tywin Lannister, with all his gold and all his men, could not prevent the harm men seemed to love inflicting upon women.

And in all honesty, he had been no better for most of his life. Though his protection of me was appreciated, it would never change the atrocities of his past. I could never forgive those, nor would I forget. It did hurt, I reflected, to know that a man who I cared for so deeply had been the cause of such pain. My affection for Tywin Lannister was as much a curse as it was a blessing.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

I stared at him for a moment before nodding and reaching for his hand. I gave it a gentle squeeze, for I did not know how to reply to him. This gesture was enough.

Just then, the High Septon walked in, signaling that we should all begin to take our places in the crowd. Tywin briefly raised my hand to his lips and then left, going to stand at the front with the rest of the Lannisters. I pitied him, having to stand next to Joffrey for the entire ceremony. 

And of course, it was a long, quite boring ceremony. But Loras looked so handsome, not to mention grown up. And naturally, Sansa looked beautiful as well, practically smiling the whole time. It seemed Loras couldn’t help but return it, and I got the general sense that even if he would not love her the way he’d loved Renly, they would be a relatively happy couple compared to most. 

As I thought about that, however, I couldn’t help but glance over at Tywin. He was watching the ceremony quite candidly, and certainly not with the malicious enthusiasm of his grandson. There was something quite nice about looking at him when he was unaware of my gaze.

Though, I didn’t stare for long, as I focused on the ceremony once again. The entire room applauded as Loras and Sansa kissed for the first time as husband and wife, and I was glad to see them smile afterwards.

Unlike me, however, Tywin had not even seen them kiss. Not because he was disinterested or bored, but because his attention was somewhere else entirely. In fact, had I looked over at that moment, I would’ve become aware that he’d missed their kiss because he was staring at me. 

—————

Tywin found himself quite miserable at the wedding feast, even despite how grand it was. It was not anything unusual for him, as he’d never been fond of large parties or tourneys. In all honesty, he considered them to be far too lavish and a waste of money. But this was different.

The Hand of the King had not spent a single coin on this wedding, and even still he was unusually upset. After all, how could he enjoy himself when the entire night you hadn’t even looked his way, let alone talked to him?

It was a childish complaint, he knew that, but he still couldn’t help it. Sitting at the table next to his daughter and grandson was no joyous task, and his only consolation was the good quality of the food being served.

Still, Tywin had been subtly watching you the entire evening. You’d made your rounds, greeted plenty of nobles, and seemingly discussed your brother at great length various times. You were extremely busy, and he noted that you seemed relieved upon sitting down at the table beside your sister, grandmother, and father. 

He watched you reach for your cup, taking a sip of wine as you conversed with Margaery. Reluctantly, Tywin looked down at his plate and pushed his fork into a piece of meat, hoping that perhaps food and drink would help soothe the headache that had suddenly developed. He just wished for the whole night to be done with already.

“Not hungry, Father?” Tyrion questioned, suddenly noticing just how much food was left on Tywin’s plate. His father gave him an annoyed look.

“No, not particularly.”

“Preoccupied with something?”

Father and son stared at each other for a few seconds, and Tyrion raised a brow. He had not missed the obnoxious amount of time his father had spent looking at you this evening, and he’d found it rather curious. He certainly couldn’t recall ever having a friend that he had stared at that much.

“I’m tired. I woke early this morning,” Tywin lied, not caring whatsoever about the fact that it was a horrible excuse. Tyrion would not prod about it, lest he make his father mad. He was in a bad enough mood already, it seemed. 

“Well, I apologize then. I know how much you adore weddings,” Tyrion jested, though there was no amusement from the Lord Hand. That was alright, usually his father did not laugh at his jokes. 

Though, Tyrion had to admit, the air was rather tense beside Tywin, and when he caught sight of Bronn across the room it seemed the perfect opportunity to get up and leave. Tywin was similarly glad to be left in peace.

His eyes were on you again, and he was glad to be seated at the table directly across from you. You looked even more beautiful than normal when you were happy, and you were ecstatic right now. Gods, if you would just look his way.

Tywin grabbed his cup, drinking a bit too much wine all at once. He was needy, he could admit that; he wasn’t embarrassed to do so when he thought about how much he wanted you all to himself. 

The sudden strumming of the band caught both his and your attention, along with practically everyone else’s in the courtyard. They’d begun to play the perfect music for dancing, and people began to cheer as Loras escorted Sansa into the middle of the space. Tywin truthfully had no desire to watch them dance, but it at least gave him an excuse to look at you a little bit less shamefully, for they were positioned right between the two of you.

You, of course, had fond eyes as you watched your brother, but Tywin could not care less. He found that his attraction to you had only been growing stronger as of late, and it was somewhat concerning. He supposed Cersei attempting to call him out for it had only made him ponder the subject even more.

For a moment or two, Tywin focused on the dancing couple. But even then, his mind only drifted to what it might be like to dance with you. He wondered if you were any good, and also if he still was. It had been years since he’d danced with anyone, admittedly. 

Cersei suddenly sighed beside him, and when he looked over she appeared to be drinking her annoyance away just as he had been a few minutes ago. He hadn’t a clue why she was upset, but then again she always was. Tywin noted that the scar on her cheek was almost entirely gone now, and he was glad. It had been a little more than a week since that conversation, and he’d felt horrible for hitting her after his anger had dissipated. 

His thoughts were interrupted by clapping, and he realized that the newlyweds had finished their dance. He joined in, though rather unenthusiastically. More people took to the floor now, and as Tywin glanced at his daughter again, a sudden urge gripped him.

“Cersei.”

She turned to look at her father, and found his hand extended out toward her. She suddenly realized that he was asking to dance with her, and she anxiously accepted. It had been quite some time since her father had asked her to dance.

Slowly, she took his hand, standing from her seat at the same time as him. Tywin escorted Cersei to the floor, and many were surprised to see them. You had not failed to notice either, and it made you smile. The Great Lion was never unsurprising. 

“I want you to know that I am sorry about last week. I was being unnecessarily harsh,” Tywin whispered to his daughter, forcing himself to be uncomfortable as he made eye contact with her. Cersei’s face softened, and she nodded.

“Well, I was being foolish, and I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have prodded or insulted you the way that I did. You were right to be angry,” she replied softly, looking down as she did. 

“Angry, perhaps, but not violent. You are my daughter, Cersei. You are Joanna’s daughter. I shouldn’t have laid a hand on you.”

Cersei finally met her father’s eyes, staring at him in silence for a moment until they circled around each other while dancing. When they came back to their previous position, she let herself speak.

“I may not trust the Tyrells, but I do trust you, Father. If you- if you feel that they are genuine allies, then I will not impose my own opinions. I simply wish for you to be cautious, is all. Lady (Y/N) may be more genuine than her sister, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t dangerous. Please remember that,” Cersei implored, noticing you over her father’s shoulder as you danced with Loras. She could not explain why she distrusted you so, but there was a feeling deep inside of her that nagged and would not go away.

Tywin blinked a few times, processing his daughter’s sentiment and then nodding. “I will. And if you ever have genuine reasons to distrust them, know that I’ll listen.”

The Lord Hand twirled his daughter, and found himself at least consoled by this dance. Not only that, but you had come into view now. You could not stop laughing as you danced with your brother, and the sound made Tywin soften. Gods, you looked utterly irresistible tonight. 

The song came to a finish, and Tywin gave his daughter a gentle smile as they went back to their table. She could not help returning it, and she realized it had been some time since she genuinely smiled about something. 

Suddenly, this wedding did not feel quite so solemn to Tywin. At least, it didn’t until he found you in conversation with Ser Elias and another man he recognized as his son’s sellsword. 

You were incredibly animated as you spoke to them, and simply unable to stop smiling. He watched you raise an eyebrow at the sellsword—Bronn, he believed it was—with an unparalleled jealousy. He hadn’t a clue what the two of you were discussing, and yet it looked entirely flirtatious. 

Tywin’s anger only increased when he saw Bronn motion up and down at you with a grin, to which you gave him a playful shove and then placed a hand on his shoulder. That was unmistakably a sign of flirtation, and it made the Lord Hand’s stomach drop. His heart was physically aching, and he detested it. 

To have this affection for you was heaven and hell all at once. You made him unbelievably happy, and yet to know that you would never be his was incredibly frustrating. Tywin was content as your friend, yes, but it became a thousand times harder when he considered you having romantic feelings for another. 

He continued to watch you converse with Bronn, though not without downing all the wine in his cup. He held it out for a servant to refill, suddenly grateful that Cersei was preoccupied trying to manage Joffrey, for she would have noticed her father drinking. Tywin only drank for leisure and for taste, never to become intoxicated. Well, given his current intentions, never was incorrect.

Gods, Tywin could not stand seeing the way that man was looking at you, for even if you did not know it, there was undeniably desire in his eyes. He wished that he could rip the eyes of every man in Westeros out, simply so that he might be the only one who could see you. Those men did not deserve to look at you, and deep down, Tywin felt that neither did he. You seemed a creature too perfect for this world.

The wine only seemed to keep coming, and the Lord Hand would not stop drinking. He would do anything to get rid of this intolerable ache that you had caused. He had forgotten what this jealousy felt like, and he had not missed it.

Eventually, the pain did start to fade, and Tywin felt incredibly relaxed and free. He had not been drunk in quite some time, and especially not to this degree. To be this ruined was something he might’ve expected from his son, and that was concerning enough. 

Thankfully, nobody had noticed how inebriated the Lord Hand was just yet, especially when Joffrey began calling out for the bedding ceremony. People were moving around him, but Tywin felt far too out of it to really do anything. Though, he did begin to feel like he needed to relieve himself, and so he stood up from his seat at the table. 

In his present state, however, he stumbled a bit and bumped directly into someone. Only when they turned around and faced him directly did he realize it was you. You said something, but he did not process it entirely, and so his reply came back as a series of incoherent mumbles. Luckily, you were smart enough to figure out exactly what was going on.

—————

“Tywin, are you drunk?”

I stared at the man before me, noting that he had an almost dizzy look about him. The smell of wine was more prevalent on his breath than usual, and he hadn’t even given me a coherent reply when I’d said his name the first time. 

“Drunk? O-Of course not,” he replied, words so slurred that it wouldn’t have convinced the dumbest fool alive. I sighed, looking around at the mass of people following Loras and Sansa. 

“Come, sit down for a moment. You need to eat something, or perhaps drink some water,” I suggested, gripping his arm and attempting to help him toward his seat. It was a rather fruitless attempt, however, because Tywin was instantly tripping over his feet. I was shocked to see him like this.

“I need… I need to use the privy,” he mumbled, looking around as if searching for one. I watched a great deal of the nobles dispersing and realized that this was the perfect opportunity to get him out of the feast, for nobody would wonder where he’d gone.

“You need to get to the Tower of the Hand and sleep. I’ll help you, just try your best to walk,” I told him, grabbing his arm a bit more firmly and helping him forward. It was a rather painful process, but people were so preoccupied with the bedding that nobody really noticed us slipping away.

As we went into a more quiet hall, I draped Tywin’s arm over my shoulder to make it easier for us to walk together. Even then, it wasn’t exactly easy.

“Where are we going?” Tywin asked, hiccuping and stumbling forward a bit. I glanced at him with absolute shock.

“Gods, Tywin, how much did you have to drink? Are you alright?”

“I had… quite a bit…”

I only sighed, continuing to help him through the Red Keep. The worst part was once we had reached the Tower of the Hand, because going up that many stairs with a 6’3” drunk man at your side is almost impossible. It took far too much patience, and I was relieved once we reached the top and went into his actual chambers. 

“You said you needed to use the privy?” I questioned, recalling that he had mentioned it at the feast. He only nodded, and I sighed before helping him over to it. Thankfully, he was coherent enough to go in on his own and not hurt himself.

Meanwhile, I stood awkwardly outside the door. I found myself wondering why he’d even gotten so drunk to begin with, because it was entirely unlike him. Tywin was no drunk, especially in public. Even if he’d gotten into some sort of argument with his children, I couldn’t imagine anything being so horrible that he would’ve chosen alcohol to soothe himself. Not to mention, it wasn’t just light inebriation either. He would most assuredly be miserable in the morning.

The door suddenly flung open beside me, and I turned my head to watch Tywin shuffle out of the privy. All his clothes were thankfully in place, and once I was sure of that I moved toward him and once again put his arm around me.

“Let’s get you to bed, Tywin,” I whispered, placing my hand on his back to help him forward. He mumbled something, and I gave a soft ‘hm?’ to signify that I hadn’t heard him.

“Will you… will you stay awhile?” he repeated, making his question audible now. I looked up at him and nodded, for I knew it would make him feel better. Plus, I would have to make sure he did not roll onto his back while sleeping.

We got to his bedroom, and I carefully pushed the door open and guided Tywin inside. I closed the door behind us and then led him to his bed, sitting him down there. He took a bit of initiative himself, and I watched as he began to undo his coat. I helped him pull it off once he was done, and then assisted him with his boots. 

“May I ask… Tywin, why you drank so much at the feast?” I questioned as I stood up from the floor, tossing his shoes aside. I went over to the table then, pouring water into a cup and bringing it over to him. He drank a small sip before setting it down on his nightstand.

“You did not speak to me the entire feast,” he said slowly, zoning out as he stared at the floor behind me. My eyebrows furrowed at his answer. 

“What do you mean?”

“You- You spoke to nearly every noble there… b-but did not look my way a single time.” He was continually interrupted by hiccups. I only sighed, stepping closer to him and taking his hand in mine. Tywin finally looked me in the eyes then.

“Weddings are for catching up with people, and I see you every day. And, I most certainly was looking your way. How could I not? You looked very handsome in that coat,” I explained, giving his palm a reassuring squeeze.

“You talked to Ser Elias… and Tyrion’s man,” he mumbled, blinking somewhat heavily. I realized he was referring to Bronn, and I was even more perplexed.

“Yes, I did. Why?”

There was no reply, and he looked away again. It clicked then that he’d been jealous. Was that why he’d gotten himself drunk? Simply because he was jealous of my other friendships?

“Tywin… listen to me. I may be friends with both Ser Elias and Bronn, but that in no way disregards how much I value you. You are my dearest friend, believe me when I say that. As I said, the only reason I did not converse with you at the feast was because I see you so often. It was not because I didn’t wish to,” I assured him, reaching for his other hand as well and looking straight into his eyes. He looked up from the floor then, scanning and carefully observing my face.

“You are beautiful, (Y/N)… v-very beautiful.”

Even despite his hiccup, the way he had said it took me by surprise. My breath suddenly caught in my throat, for Tywin’s expression was giving me a feeling that I had no explanation for. 

“Thank you, Tywin…”

We stared at each other for a moment longer, but I cleared my throat and looked around. I had to get him to sleep.

“You ought to lie down. Sleep on your left side, you’re less likely to vomit that way. I don’t- I don’t know what state your stomach is in right now, but I’ll leave this here just in case you think eating something might help,” I said to him, watching him swing his legs into bed and then lay back. I reached into the pockets of my dress, pulling out the cookie I had wrapped in my handkerchief and setting it on his nightstand. I was rather fond of sneaking sweets out of feasts, for I often woke in the night with a craving for them. Though, in the Lord Hand’s case, a cookie was probably not the best thing for him to eat, but I would let him be the judge of that.

Tywin shifted onto his left side then, just as I had recommended, and I was quick to position pillows around him so that he would not roll onto his stomach or onto his back. If the great Tywin Lannister should die after all these years choking on his own vomit, I feared it might be a rather disappointing conclusion. 

When I was done with that, I sat on the edge of his bed, holding one of his hands. He was slowly but surely drifting off to sleep, and eventually I could tell by his breathing that he was entirely out. Biting a lip, I decided to stay a little longer. I just wanted to make sure that he was alright. 

Though, I admittedly couldn’t help but admire him. He looked so peaceful like this, and it put an odd feeling into my chest. He and I had come so far since the Battle of Blackwater, and I was glad. It was hard to feel affection for Tywin sometimes, especially when I remembered all the atrocious things he’d done in the past, but he was so sweet with me. Few people had ever cared for me as he had.

I found myself thinking about how he’d called me beautiful, and heat came to my cheeks. Tywin had not said ‘you look beautiful’, he had said ‘you are beautiful’. There was a difference there, and it was making my heart pound. Why was that?

Suddenly my thoughts shifted to what both of my siblings and my grandmother seemed to believe my feelings for Tywin were. Surely they were wrong, for how could I have romantic feelings for this man? This horrible, awful man who’d ordered things done to women that I couldn’t even comprehend in my worst nightmares. This horrible, awful man who was 41 years older than me. This horrible, awful man who had saved my life, who had spent hours upon hours with me, who had come out in the pouring rain just to apologize to me. 

Staring at him now, I realized that Tywin had made me happier than any man or god, and that over the last few months I’d come to enjoy 30 minutes with him more than 30 minutes with a sword.

The realization hit me with an insane force, and I found myself trembling as I watched him sleep. My family was right; I was undeniably in love with Tywin Lannister.

TAGLIST:

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@ladysindar @vesta-ro @exo-nova @paola-carter

@prettykinkysoul 

@fullmoonshadowwrites @kishie8 

@the-desilittle-bird @dianilaws @girlonfireice 

@muscari-fae @lostgirllulu 

@abigfanofgameofthrones @smalltownbigheart 

@frombloodandflesh @supernaturalismyreligion666

@thanyatargaryen @rey26 @hexandale @pkawaiidesu5394 @aimsro @gbatesx @lockleysgrl @alicefiresage @stargazingwatercolouredbeing @drwho-ess @mulletmcghee @mamawiggers1980

[daenystheedreamer]

sansa/willas is a very nothingburger of a ship to me bc like. willas doesnt have a personality yet. BUT of all the straight sansa ships this one seems the most like. What If Sansa Was With A Man Who Was Nice. what if she still had to participate in westerosi patriarchy as a wife and a mother but it was with someone who was nice and loved her <3 and its like thats not quite what i personally am aiming for but i do like where your head is at

this is my thoughts!! its a cute what if where the tyrells arent QUITE as morally bleak and actually follow through with their promises to sansa<3 yeah its boring but thats clearly the point. like gun to my head i have to pick an adult man ship endgame for sansa. i pick willas<3

i dont like fanon niceguy willas and i especially find the way people visualise him as like a skinny fit hot guy lame but even if.... ok PAUSE imagine a rating scale with garlan on one side and olenna on the other title it 'tyrells ranked by how conniving they are'. UNPAUSE. so even if willas is more on the olenna side of conniving i still think he's a nice husband choice for sansa<3 also im a sansaery warrior first and foremost so if she marries willas she can cheat on him with her sister-in-law

[oh1theseus]

you with the dark curls > robb, jon, margaery, renly, missandei, jamie, alicent you with the watercolor eyes > theon, ygritte, sansa, loras, daenerys, brienne, rhaenyra

[chic-beyond-the-wall]

What a maiden of house Tyrell would wear

(Julien Fournie, Spring 2014)

[johnmihombre]

[forestcat222]

Hello, new pinned post.

I'm forestcat222 but you guys can call me Ode.

I'm here to write fanfiction, reblog cool pieces of art and theories, scream about my favorite characters and ocs.

This is my AO3 account.

I have several got fanfictions on there, All The Targaryens Survive AU (where all the Targaryen's survive Roberts rebellionand Aerys stays in power, Dysfunctional Familial Ties (a modern AU mainly focusing on Jon Snow and his messed up relationship with his family) and Lethal Love (another modern AU but it's Jon Snow x Ramsay.)

My favorite oc is Abell Bracken who is alive during the Dance of dragons and is a rabid creature who I love. (Please give me a reason to talk about this little creature.)

I'm team green (just because I find them more entertaining, they suck as humans just like everyone else in the dance)

My favorite asoiaf character is Jon Snow.

My favorite fire and blood character is Aemond Targaryen.

My favorite ships are Jonsatin

Jonmund

Cersei x Oberyn

Criston x Alicent (usually in a platonic way)

Margaery x Sansa

Loras x Viserys (Cannon in my fanfic.)

Rhaenys x Willas (also canon in fanfic.)

Otto x Daemon (in a crackship way)

Abell Bracken x Davos Blackwood (OC x OCish Canon character)

I don't really have a dni list, just don't be a complete piece of shit (no nazis or racists or xenophobs) really anyone can interact, I appreciate asks, interact with me and I'll interact with you. I'm always happy to have more tumblr mutuals 😄

[male-22-fan]

I'm still waiting for someone with talent to write a fanfic about Sandor x Sansa x Loras where the hound is the horny alpha of the two

[ineedminions]

Sansa and Loras's one night together had unexpected consequences. A couple little slices of life of their unconventional family with Willas and Renly.

[cdragons]

No Hope - Robb Stark x Lady-in-Waiting!Reader

Summary: You ended it. It killed you to do so, but you had to do it. Soon, it won't matter anyway - you were set to travel with Lord Stark and Lady Sansa as her lady-in-waiting to King's Landing. It's not as if you two will ever meet again. How wrong you were...

Warning(s): Hard Dom Robb, OC is cold, Robb is dark AND delulu, Canon divergence, hard smut, slight BDSM, KIng's Landing criminal justice system, etc.

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIPPY!!! I know I'm three days late, and I swear I meant to finish this on your actual birthday, but I ended up overwriting, and then I had to be at the DMV for about 7 hours and then had to pack up my house yesterday 🫠. ANYWAY, thank you so much for being such an amazing friend! It really has been such an honor to see how much you, your writing, and your blog have grown! Here's to another year of friendship and great writing!

The siege against King’s Landing was a success, resulting in an overwhelming victory for Stannis’ campaign as the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.

House Lannister, despite the arrival of reinforcements from House Tyrell, led by Ser Loras, was no more. While it was a clever ruse on House Tyrell’s part, neither house would have expected men from the Riverlands to join Stannis in his fight, resulting in an overwhelming victory. As a result, the futures of two of the ancient Seven Great Houses of Westeros now rest in the hands of a new ruler—King Stannis of House Baratheon, a figure whose emergence will undoubtedly shape the course of Westeros.

Despite being a wheelhouse dozens of miles away from King’s Landing at this point, the shouts and cheers of Stannis’ men rang clear in your ears. Inside were three young women transported to the Westerlands—to Robb Stark, the Young Wolf and King of the newly independent North.

The thought of seeing him again after the way the two of you left things off made the ride all the more unpleasant.

You remained silent and softly stroked your lady’s head as she rested her head on your lap. Tried as she could to stay lucid and awake, but it seemed that the stress and terror from being trapped as King Joffery’s former betrothed before being sold to his dwarf of an uncle had taken its toll. As she slept, you took in her features and noted the changes from the child you knew in Winterfell to the young woman trapped in King’s Landing. Her gorgeous red Tully hair lost some of its splendorous luster, appearing more matted and unkempt than you had ever seen it after years of being in Lady Sansa’s lady-in-waiting. Despite being in the South for over a year, her ivory skin seemed to pale until it was translucent. While the court believed her pale fairness to result from her Northern birth, only you and Shay knew that it was from Sansa’s inability to stomach more than a few meager bites off her plate during her mealtimes.

“The circles under her eyes have darkened further,” you thought as Sansa gripped your skirt – tightly clenching her fist as if she were a small child still terrified of the dark. “She’s grown too thin – she’s barely improved since I’ve returned by her side.”

It terrified you when Shae, who took your place as her handmaiden, informed you that her mood had improved tremendously since Lord Tyrion’s success in releasing you as a wedding gift to his new wife. Knowing that Sansa, to which your previous liege lord entrusted her care to you, was in such a state for months broke your heart. The bright and cheerful smiles you adored had become so rare since you returned to her side. But you hoped that due to recent events, your red-haired wolf would soon smile as brightly with all the more radiance as she did as a child.

“Do you think Lord Tyrion will be alright?”

You looked up to see Shae sitting across from you on the other side of the carriage. Her expression, while usually impassive and unreadable, was fraught with unease about the uncertainty of the future—hers and her lover’s.

“Stannis Baratheon is not one who shows mercy,” you answered truthfully. “It is likely that he will face the same fate as his nephew, as well as his sister and father.”

Perhaps your tone was too blunt, judging by the slight flinch Shay gave when you referred to Joffery Lannister. But, it would not help anyone, much less her, if you spoke anything less than the truth – that was what Ned Stark taught you since you were a child, and it was by that faith you would remain steadfast no matter what. She deserved nothing less than the truth; it was what you owed her. After all, from what Sansa spoke to you, she helped protect her however she could when you were not by her side.

And for that, you were most grateful.

“However,” you continued, “perhaps Lord Varys will vouch for him. The Master of Whispers holds Lord Tyrion in high regard, and out of all his family, your lover is admittedly the best of them. If nothing else, maybe he’ll pledge loyalty to Stannis and convince Tommen to do the same.”

 She grew flustered, “He is not…we are not–”

“You will not find judgment from me,” you assured her with a bitter chuckle. You looked down at Sansa, her sleeping figure sparking a twinge of guilt in your heart. “Believe me, I am the last one to preach about the sins of an affair between a lord and his servant.”

It was a joyful reunion between mother and child. Before the wheelhouse fully stopped, Sansa flung open the doors and leaped out, racing into her mother's arms. Lady Stark was just as eager to hold her daughter – forgetting all forms of propriety and etiquette when she picked up her skirts to run. Both were a mess of wide smiles and joyful tears, and you don’t believe you’ve ever seen Lady Stark act so young. Seeing the two embrace – one who lost a husband and two sons and the other who lost a father and two brothers –made for such a beautiful scene that it made you weep in relief.

“I did it, my lord,” you silently prayed out, “I’ve kept my promise.”

You swore you felt your liege's gratitude by the gentle breeze that blew through the field. But unfortunately, the joy you felt would only further load the weight of the shackles of your guilt and self-loathing that refused to release you. Even if someone as good and honorable as Ned Stark could find it in his heart to forgive you – you couldn’t help but feel you don’t deserve his forgiveness.

…No…you knew you didn’t deserve it, and knowing that made the shackles heavier than you’ve ever felt.

Sansa was absent since Lady Catelyn insisted that her daughter remain by her side for the night. Shae accompanied her, and you remained alone as you lay on the cot set for you. A squire announced himself before entering the tent the men had set up for you and Shae. He called out your name and informed you that you were expected to wait in His Grace’s tent.

“His Grace requested a moment with you,” he explained, “he wishes to thank you for your service and loyalty to Princess Sansa.”

“Well, you can tell ‘His Grace’ that he can thank me here,” you scoffed. “Because I’m not fucking moving.”

You dismissed the young man without a second thought. Seriously? Did he genuinely expect you to come so quickly to him? Honestly, the nerve of that man.

It was not long before the squire returned.

“H-his Grace insists that you meet him,” he stammered.

The poor boy looked terrified, like a little puppy caught by its master for doing something it wasn’t supposed to. Seeing his discomfort was almost adorable – it nearly made you smile.

“And I insist that he let me rest,” you raised your brow and cocked your head to the side. “Or is he, in fact, ordering me to meet him? Ahh, and after such a long journey – honestly, he acts so spoiled sometimes, such a typical highborn born with everything.”

“Please, my lady,” he pleaded.

You impassively stared at the poor fellow briefly. His cheeks were flushed bright red underneath the dirt and grime, and his eyes looked close to crying. Gods, Robb – what in the Seven Hells kind of tongue lashing did you give the poor boy? Surely, he wasn’t so desperate to see you, especially considering how the two of you left things off.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I suppose I could spare him a moment. But it won’t be before I’ve had a bath – I’ve already called for hot water; it won’t be long.”

“Oh, thank you, my lady,” he sighed in relief. “His Grace will be most grateful to see you once he is finished speaking with his council in the war tent.”

Fuckin’ son of a–

You swore you felt a vein on your forehead pop. Did that idiot really summon you to his tent while he was in a council meeting?

The walk from your tent to Robb’s was a battle in itself - your mind dreaded what your heart longed for.

You had just finished your bath and changed into a simple linen dress (plain but clean) when you decided you kept His Majesty waiting long enough (two hours, give or take). You were just about to enter when a particularly irritatingly slow clap stopped you in your tracks. There was only one person who could bring out your ire in such a short amount of time. You turned around to see Theon Greyjoy – standing and smirking like the arrogant bitch you fought and played with since you were just a girl.

“Well, aren’t you a vision?” he smirked. “Makes you wonder how the men of King’s Landing kept their hands to themselves when they saw you.”

“Wouldn’t know,” you wryly replied, “after all, I spent most of my time there in a dark, damp cell. I barely had enough food and water to survive, let alone to be a vision.”

Although Theon still joked and teased like he always had, you could see the war had taken its toll on him. He grew thinner. His body had lost weight, and his muscles appeared leaner and more taut. His shaggy curls were more closely trimmed and no longer tickled his shoulders. But his eyes—how they looked so haunted and tired—made your heartbreak.

“He’s missed you,” he whispered. There was no need to state a name – you both knew who he was referring to.

“He got married,” you replied while looking away. To a Frey, no less.

“She's dead, and he never loved her.”

“That makes it better?”

“It does when you were the one who broke his heart,” he retorted.

You sharply turned back, “That is not–”

Light poured out of the tent behind you as the front flap opened. You heard your name being called out in that tone that always made your knees buckle—revering and filled with longing with an undertone of authority. It beckoned you to look at him, and when you did, you swore you felt your heart leap into your throat by him.

“You’re late,” he grunted.

Robb Stark, with his crystalline blue eyes not once looking away from you, shifted to the side and let you in. His gaze moved to Theon and narrowed when he noticed the lack of distance between the two of you. Saying nothing, you silently bowed your head before heading inside the warm tent. However, you remained close enough to hear the brief exchange between the Greyjoy and Stark. But after being away from Robb for so long, you couldn’t focus on any words between the two men.

Taking a deep breath, your body tingled as you took the familiar notes of fine leather and freshly burned smoke. You glanced at his bed and longed to lie in its furs without the hindrance of clothes. Your mouth watered at the idea of wrapping yourself in them. The idea of pressing your nose against the furs made your center throb and grow wet, as the idea of the scent of his hot sweat mixed with his musk trapped in those hides was almost too much to bear.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you nearly missed Robb calling out your name. You responded by regaining your composure as quickly as possible so as not to betray any lustful thoughts swimming in your mind.

“What did you and Theon talk about?” he bluntly asked, standing impassively as you remained silent.

“Was the journey smooth?” he tried again. Nothing.

“I hope my men–”

“Idle prattle doesn’t suit you,” you tiredly sighed. “Just tell me whatever you waited so long for, and then I can return to my tent and finally rest.”

Robb clenched his fists and stared at the ground. How cruel, how unfair – one word from you, just hearing your voice, struck every word on his tongue dead. War made him lax. He, of all people, should know how you could drive good men to insanity.

Yes – it felt like he was going mad.

He looked up from the ground and wanted to weep. There you stood – looking as beautiful as a fresh layer of snow and just as cold. It took everything in him not to reach out and pull you close. He wanted to feel your body close to his, to revel in the softness of your hidden warmth. He wanted to go back to Winterfell – to simpler times with his father and brothers alive and laughing, to when Jon was by his side and his brother and best friend, and to when you would look at him like he was your world.

How you used to look at him – how he still looked at you.

Robb tried to start a conversation to loosen the tense atmosphere, but it was clear you weren’t having it. You even cut him off on his third attempt. Your voice was so cold that it burned him like ice. He wasn’t even sure if you were looking at him or just at a corner of the tent so you could maintain that cold, domineering façade you had perfected since childhood. It was obvious to him that you were trying to goad him into losing his temper – giving you the perfect excuse to leave and ignore him again.

Why else had you sent his squire back to him after he requested your presence to wait for him at his tent? Furthermore, why else did you make him wait two hours for your bath?

“I wish to thank you for your loyalty towards my sister during her time as the Lannisters’ hostage,” Robb calmly said, keeping his voice steady but firm. “You acted bravely.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I acted as anyone else would have in my position. My loyalty to your sister and family is not something to be admired or coveted.”

“That’s not true,” Robb argued. “Your loyalty to my family is nothing short of admirable. It’s only right that–”

“Robb.”

It was infuriating how regal you looked, carrying the air of a queen.

“My loyalty will always belong to House Stark, that’s true – but,” you stared deep into his gaze, “all I cared about in that damp, rotting cell, where I was given barely enough water and food to survive, was whether my lady was well.”

Please stop it.

“I didn’t endure because my lady was a Stark,” you continued, “I endured because it was Sansa.”

He couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Is it only for Sansa that you’ve suffered?” he rasped in anger.

This wasn’t good; he just got you back. If he doesn’t properly utilize this chance, you’ll be gone from him forever. He knew you’d never leave Sansa’s side. Your loyalty to her, even when she still acted like the spoiled little princess of the North, drew him to you. As the eldest daughter, Sansa was the one closest to their mother. However, as the second eldest child, it also meant that she had to understand she could not always have their parents’ attention. Before Jeyne Poole, before Septa Mordane – you were Sansa’s first and constant companion. You were someone whose loyalty ran deep and remained unwavering in the worst times.

He collected himself enough to apologize for his outburst when your voice returned – regal and imposing, cold and distant.

“Not just Sansa,” you stated. “…I also made a promise to Lord Stark.”

Something in him snapped. Robb considered himself a good man, an honorable man. One whose father instilled lessons of honor and duty in him since he was old enough to walk. A father who he missed, whose absence was painful. But hearing you speak of him, of his father, it was like a bucket of ice water was poured over him, and it awoke a bitter memory he had long forgotten.

“Is it true?” Robb demanded unannounced after storming into his father’s private study. His father sat at his desk, appearing as tired and weary as the day of his departure from home to the vicious South treads closer with each passing day. Ned set down his quill and sighed deeply. He knew it would not be long before Robb would come in to demand an explanation. He supposed that, as his boy’s father, he owed his eldest son that much… if for not his own sake, then for the sake of closure. “…What may you be referring to, Robb?” he asked, despite already knowing what this was about. Robb furiously shook his head, “Do not pretend with me, Father. Did you or did you not plant the idea of a future engagement between her and me as treason against you?” “…Before I answer that,” Ned began carefully, not wanting to upset his son further, “am I to understand that when you mean ‘her,’ you are referring to a particular lady-in-waiting favored by your sister?” It frightened Ned how quickly Robb’s anger was snuffed out. He whispered your name with reverence and veneration fit for the Maiden. But just as soon as his heir’s fury went away, it came back at a speed and quantity tenfold. Ned could see it in his eyes. Robb may have inherited his Tully mother’s eyes, but the cold storm raging in them could only belong to one whose blood belongs to the Old Gods of the North. “Sansa requested her to accompany us while she learns to be Prince Joffrey's future queen,” Ned explained. “Robb… your sisters need people they can trust – now more than ever with Bran’s accident.” “And she’s agreed to this?” Robb interrogated. “You expect me to believe that?” “Yes,” Ned solemnly nodded, “because it was brought up to me by her…”

Robb didn’t believe it then, and he still didn’t believe it now. He refused to entertain the idea of you, of all people, who would propose to his father that you leave him. You, who Robb loved with a love more fervent and true than any fanciful tale sung by the bards in Southern courts. You, who listened to all of Robb’s deepest fears and worries since you and him were still small children. You, who whispered promises of love and devotion to Robb night after night since he first warmed your bed.

You, who cried tears of joy when he secretly proposed to you underneath the blood-red leaves and snow-painted branches of the weirwood tree, swearing his love to you before the Old Gods and New.

…No…no, no, no—it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be…but what other explanation was left?

“Robb…?” your voice gently called out to him. “If that’s all you wish to say to me… then I must be heading back to my–”

He walked forward and tightly grasped your arms, making you unable to escape. Robb felt your feeble attempts to pry his fingers off with your delicate hands. But it was to no avail.

“Why…?” Robb rasped, letting out all the pain and longing he had been keeping locked inside since you dissolved you and his affair. “Why did you leave? …Why did you leave me?”

“Damn you,” you thought. “Damn you, Robb Stark.”

It was pathetic… how easily this man broke down your walls. One word… one word from him was enough to make you want to surrender everything.  

“I…I-I… only did what I thought was best,” you stammered. “For us…and for you…”

Robb scoffed because why wouldn’t he?

“For me…?” he rhetorically repeated. “Leaving me – no, abandoning me… that was for my benefit? Do you really expect me to believe that?”

You shook your head, “Belief is secondary to truth,” you explained. “And I am telling you the truth. I’ve never lied to you.”

“Right, of course – that’s why you ran off to King’s Landing with my sister,” Robb raged. “Yes, certainly that for my well-being. You, being paraded and courted by knights and nobles with their pretty words and fine silks – what a relief to know that you endured all that for me…”

Oh, this son of a – gods, how could one man be so beautiful, yet so infuriating?!

“Did you ever love me?” he asked, his voice a little rough from choking back tears. “Was it ever real? Any of it? Or was it all a lie?”

“I believe I told you I was expected to wake your sister for her early celebration…” you looked out the window, “…right now…? It would seem…?” It was the morning of Sansa’s eleventh birthday. Lady Stark planned to surprise her daughter with a splendid spread of leek pottage, freshly baked bread, slices of smoked meat, and a cup of sweet Dornish wine. She entrusted the duty of waking the little princess of the day to you, Sansa’s most entrusted companion. It was expected that you would take the role. After all, everyone in the castle knew what an absolute nightmare Lord Stark’s eldest daughter was in the early mornings. …But…it would seem that Lord Stark’s eldest son and heir did not understand the gravity of your role today…considering he remained insistent that you spend your morning with him… in his bed… without any clothes on your person. While usually, you’d be much more cross at his insistence… you couldn’t deny how delicious it felt waking up in his arms after a night of gloriously intense lovemaking. And the way he further convinced you by tracing feather-light kisses down your neck and collarbone was downright sinful. “I believe…” he momentarily nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, causing you to softly shriek and giggle. “…I told you never to speak of my sister or any member of my family while in bed with me.” His lips trailed further down to the valley of your breasts. “Stay here…with me…and let’s forget the world this morning.” Gods, it’d be so easy to give in …to remain hidden from the world within the arms of your beloved…but life was hardly so easy. “You know I – can’t…!” you sharply gasped at the feel of his lips around your teat. You pitifully whined his name. “Robb, please…” “Shhh—careful, my love,” he huskily whispered, “unless you want all of Winterfell to know how even one of its coldest women is powerless against her wolf…” You held his chin to press a soft kiss against his lips. Gazing into his deep pools of sapphire, you knew this was the only man you could ever give your heart to. “My wolf…” you corrected, “and only mine…” “Yours…” Robb agreed as the two of you got lost in each other all over again.

Instinct and fury blinded rationality and composure as a sharp crack rang within the tent as your palm made contact with Robb’s cheek. Hot tears spilled from your eyes as the wet trails streamed down your cheeks.

“Fuck you, Robb…” you grit out.

Did he not think you haven’t craved him and his love as much, if not more, since your separation? Was he so obtusely… thick in the skull to think that you hadn’t cursed yourself for plunging you both into the cruel depths of a life without the other? Had he not realized that what saved you from falling into despair… from the moment you were thrown into the Red Keep’s dungeons… was your sweet memories of him?

You angrily swiped away your tears on the back of your hand before shoving him aside so you could make your way out of the tent. You couldn’t stand to be so close to him, not anymore, not when it cut you so deeply.

What was the point? Of being so close to one when they cannot have the other?

But it seemed your king did not agree with your sentiments as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him. Your chest collided against his, and you felt the hard planes of his muscles and wanted to sink to your knees while stripping him of all barriers that blocked his glorious body.

Robb growled as he felt the tremulous rhythm of your beating heart, effectively giving away all your true feelings and desires toward him – the same he felt to you.

“You’re a cruel woman…” he growled as he forced you to look into his deep, blue eyes by holding your chin, “but you’re my woman.”

Without another word, he seized you by the arm and threw you onto his bed. He tore off his tunic before gripping your ankles with both hands and forcing them wide open before he forcefully pulled your body to the end of the bed. Not wasting another moment, he clutched the neckline of your nightdress and tore it open, leaving you exposed and defenseless against him. You felt the peaks of your breasts harden against the cold air and tried to cover them with your arms, but Robb slapped your hands away and pinned your hands above your head.

“And I’ll make sure you learn your place by the time I’m done with you…”

Time meant nothing inside that tent. The only things that mattered were Robb Stark, young King of the North and recently widowed, and you, his precious whore he loved so dearly. It could have been an hour, it could have been five –you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that your former lover was currently cementing his claim on you as his bitch-in-heat by making you cum twice with his fingers and thrice more from his cock.

“You *huff* …really…expe- fuck…!” The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, interrupted by the squelch of your juices mixed with his as he moved in and out of you. He loudly groaned when he felt your walls clamp down on his still-hard shaft. “Fuck – how are you still so fucking tight…?”

You didn’t answer him; you couldn’t – at least not with words. Each of Robb’s thrusts hit that spot inside you that made you lose all sense of logic and rational thought. All you could offer was broken garbles and moans of your ecstasy as your insatiable wolf continued to feast on your pleasure. And this only seemed to further incense Robb into driving himself deeper inside you, as if he had not already caused you to peak three times since he first pushed into you. Your vision became blurry as your eyes crossed, but he brought you back by delivering a hard slap against your bottom, the stinging pain quickly shifting to ebbing pleasure.

“Well?” he tauntingly jeered, thoroughly enjoying your sharp tongue could only be quieted by him fucking you dumb. “I expect an answer…!”

“Ah-ah-ah – FUCK…!” you cried out after he delivered another harsh slap on your bottom’s other cheek, making you sharply gasp and continue to slather your drool and tears into his bed’s furs. “I don’t know…!”

Robb cruelly smirked, “Don’t know…?” He grabbed the front of your neck and pulled you until your sensitive back was pressed flush against his hard chest. “Don’t lie to me… you know… don’t pretend that you don’t – but do you want me to tell anyway?”

Fervently nodding, you felt him grin as his hot breath panted against your neck, causing goosebumps to prick across your skin covered in bite marks.

“It’s because…” Robb quickened his pace from rough to erratic as your mind nearly blanks from feeling more and more of him hitting the entrance to your womb, “we both know that cunt belonging to such a cold whore like yourself…could only be thawed with cock like mine and only mine.”

The war changed him. The Robb you knew and loved would never dream of speaking to you in such a filthy and vulgar manner. Before, your Robb always made love to you sweetly with the gentlest touches, and as far as you could tell and feel, he was gone. In his place was a wolf with a voracious appetite who could only seem satisfied with your humiliation from his rough squeezes and unforgiving pace. The evidence was plain to see by how he littered your body with purple love bites down your neck, red bite marks over your breasts and inner thighs, and deep indents of his nails from gripping your hips too hard and too long.

And the worst part of it? You loved it. Every bit of his ministrations was a piece of heaven. If this were torture, then you would only crave pain for the rest of your existence. Everything hurts so good, from the way his thick, throbbing cock stretches your walls to the way his rough, calloused hands manhandle your body with his bruising grip. You weren’t sure if there was anything left of you that Robb didn’t already possess. Your eyes glazed over the veins in his arms bulge as you barely register the rasped grunts and growls leaving his lips. If you looked down, you were sure to see the outline of his cock bulging from inside you as he continued to split you open.

He stilled for a moment and whispered in your ear as you cried out your frustration and begged him not to stop.

“I’m going to cum in you,” he rasped with perverse glee, “and afterward, I’m going to make sure my seed takes root in your womb.” He pushed your face down to the furs and forced your hips to meet his thrusts without mercy. “You tried to… escape your fate by leaving. Well, *huff* let me tell you right now… that’s never going to happen – I’ll lock you… in the tallest tower in Winterfell and chain you to the bed if I have to…”

One of his hands left your hips and went below you as his fingers deftly sought out the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs that was your clit. You tried to protest, not sure if your body could take even more pleasure, but all that came out was a warbled cry as he pressed down and circled your bud. The overstimulation was proving to be too much as your body started shaking. You felt a cord tightening more and more until it just *snapped*, and you screamed out your release as your entire body trembled.

Robb refused to let up his pace, and he continued to thrust in and out of you as you felt him stiffen and – gods, how did he get even bigger? Before he released his seed inside you, he bottomed out – making sure that there was nothing of him that was not inside your sopping cunt. Your vision went white as he let out a loud and powerful groan from his release, and you could feel his hot seed painting your inner walls with his essence.

His peak seemed to drain him of all his energy as he gathered you in his arms without pulling out and resolved himself to finally rest. His sweaty forehead rested against your shoulder as he panted. Between each labored breath, he planted a kiss across your shoulders – your body still twitching from the intensity it endured as you, too, tried to catch your breath.

All was silent until you found yourself speaking, “…There was no hope, was there…?”

Robb lifted his upper body on one arm to hover over you. You repeated your question, to which he gave you a relaxed smile and tucked a stray piece of hair stuck to your temple behind your ear.

“No, love…” he confirmed. “But you must have known that from the beginning…I would have never let you go.”

…How does one respond to that?

You tried to search for the answer in his eyes, but all you saw was love… love, and madness. It was always there inside him; you’ve known that from the beginning… only you were blinded by his beauty and your love for him. But your lord knew the truth; he saw that obsessive love from the start; after all, Robb was his son. He warned you, but you didn’t listen. It wasn’t until you saw him beat a poor knight bloody and broken on the ice-covered ground – all because you made the mistake of smiling at him.

That’s why you ended your secret engagement. You had hoped that time and distance would ebb away the insanity flowing in his blood, or perhaps he would find someone else and eventually forget you – whichever came first.

But that was a fool’s dream; you knew that now.

Wordlessly, you nodded, to which Robb gently pressed his lips to yours, just as he had back in Winterfell. With each second, you began to respond more and more to the kiss. You wrapped your arms over his neck as his lips trailed down your next again, and you felt your sore body humming for more despite its sensitivity. Your fingers gripped his unruly, dark auburn curls as a tear trailed your cheek.

Forgive me, my lord…I’ve failed.

But you know you were secretly glad of it. After all, how could you not be? Life was growing inside you at that very moment.

Tagging: @dipperscavern, @ethereal-athalia, @axelsagewrites, @rise-my-angel, @anewpersonthatexists, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @lenasdmns, @justmymindandstuff, @aoi-targaryen, @vyctorya, @metalblindbitch, @h34rts-4uu, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @sylasthegrim

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 4 ✿:+ Candle Flames

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, -, 5

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: SMUT, MINORS DNI, afab reader, thigh fucking, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, alcohol consumption, mention of death, mention of arranged marriage, LOTS OF VIOLENCE, blood, implied threat of non-con, 

Word Count: 4738

After you’d spoken to Loras, you’d felt even more alone than before. The talk offered no comfort other than the fact he didn’t want you dead. Sansa was fine company but she was something you felt the strong urge to protect. You put yourself in harm's way constantly just to prevent her from facing any pain.

Specifically one incident when you and her were walking with the Royal Party after watching the Princess sail away to Dorne to be wed off. It was hard to watch the crying girl sail away, especially when you’d been in her very place. 

It was easy to keep your eyes averted to such a sight when The Hound was there to accompany Joffrey. You kept your head low but your eyes stayed on him. You’d still had so many questions about the night you both shared, but now was not the time to ask. 

Later making your way back through the capital city you were sickened by the sights you saw. The Lannisters and Baretheons were supposed to be the wealthiest and most powerful houses. And yet the people of their cities sit in filth and starve. Starving over a war they did not want nor started. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to be even the least bit angry when the crowd began to shout vile things. However you found yourself slightly confused once you heard the words ‘bastard’, ‘incest monster’, and ‘brother-fucker’ being sworn towards the royal party.

However your confusion only occupied your mind for a brief moment before someone within the crowd hurled cow manure at the King's face. You felt a brief sense of enjoyment when you saw it hit his face, but it was soon replaced by fear when the King ordered for the execution of the entire crowd,

“Find the man who did that and bring him to me! Kill them, Kill them all!” The King shouted.

Foolish it was, he’d only a few gold cloaks, some kingsguard, and even less knights. Outnumbered by the hundreds of rioting starving people.

Sandor grabbed hold of Joffrey protecting him.

“What are you doing? I want these people executed!” Joffrey whined loudly

“And they want the same for you!” He shouted back

The city watch was quickly overpowered. And the High Septon that you and the royal party was traveling with was pulled into the crowd. You were horrified to witness him being pulled limb from limb, never seen such a thing in your life.

“Move, Move!” Tyrion shouted at you

As the Kingsgaurd were able to eventually carve somewhat of a path towards the entrance of the Red Keep, Joffrey, Cersei, and Tyrion were all rushed inside quickly. 

Before you could make your way inside you noticed your cousin Sansa being derailed and separated from the rest. 

You grabbed ahold of her quickly and pushed her into a Kingsguard who brought her inside. However once she was in, without seeing you they closed the doors. 

Alone.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆

Inside the keep 

“You blind bloody fool!” Tyrion scolded Joffrey’s moronic behavior by hitting and cursing at him. “We’ve had vicious kings, we’ve had idiot kings, but I don’t know if we’ve ever had an idiot king!”

“You’re talking to a King!” Joffrey shouted back like an embarrassed child.

Tyrion raised his hand and slapped him “And now I’ve struck a King, did my hand fall from my wrist?” He shouted back, he turned around and noticed you were not there, “Where is the Arryn girl?” He shouted at the men. 

“Let them have her!” Joffrey retorted 

“If she dies her relatives in the North won't forget it! She’s cared for in the vale and might I remind you she shares blood with the Starks! You need her alive!” He shouted back before frantically calling upon all the king's men to return to save you. 

“Gather your men and find her!” He shouted to Ser Meryn 

“I only take orders from my king, imp.” Meryn responded coldy. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ 

Meanwhile as you attempted to hide in a dark hall, winding up in some kind of stable. You thought for a moment you’d made it there unnoticed and alone. However four men soon walked in behind you as you backed yourself against a wall. Your hand found his way around the handle of a small sharp shovel of some kind. The blade of it was sharp and flat. 

You’d not said a word, you knew if you shouted for them to get back or to fuck off it would be of no use. 

“Look at this little bird's eyes, she’s furious.” One of the men with short hair was mocked. 

“I’ve no gold, no silver, no bread.” You said in a low tone, firm voice. 

“Aye, but you’ve got something.” The taller man said with a crooked grin.

As that man began to take a step towards you, you grasped the handle of the shovel firmly and stabbed it into him. Between his neck and his collarbone. 

As the other men began to shuffle towards you, you pulled the shovel back out and pointed it at them as their friend fell to the ground holding his bleeding wound. 

The man with short hair managed to grab ahold of you whilst his other friend grabbed ahold of your wrist, yanking the shovel out of your hand. The man with short hair placed his hand over your mouth, in response you bit down onto his fingers so hard you were afraid your teeth would shatter. You could taste the blood rush into your mouth. 

In response to your bite, with his other hand he hit you creating a cut over your eyebrow. It threw you off just enough to make you fall back and into the other man's arms. 

The three men began to pin you down shouting vulgar remarks, as they did you kicking at them and scratching at them. Just as the one with short hair began to undo his pants, he was stopped. 

Picked up by the back of his neck like a puppy, practically lifted off of the ground. His guts were cut out of him. As his body fell to the ground you saw him, it wasn’t Sandor, it was The Hound. This is what everyone spoke of. 

The men who held your wrists were next. He cut with precision. His swords swung and took off the man's head. The next he grabbed before he could escape. Slamming his fist into his head, and shoving his blade deep into his stomach. Once he was done he put away his sword. He turned back towards you, and it was him again, Sandor. 

He bent his knee to you and spoke softly “You’re alright now, little bird, you're alright.” He said as he picked you up in both arms and carried you back to safety. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧

As the two of you entered the keep Tyrion was shocked. 

Once Sandor placed you down gently, a few ladies including Sansa rushed to your side pawing at your bloody face. 

“My Lady are you hurt?” Tyrion asked as he tried to assess whether the blood on your mouth and hands were yours or not. 

“Little birds hurt, get her back to her cage. See that cut on her head.” Sandor commanded the women as he walked away, 

as he did Tyrion shouted back to him. “Well done, Clegane.”

To which Sandor responded, 

“I didn’t do it for you.” 

Tyrion, confused by his words, went back to your side and asked again before your ladies could take you away. “My lady, are you hurt? There’s blood- your hands and-“ he said reaching his to touch your chin where the blood from your mouth dropped. 

“I bit one.” You said plainly, exhaustion in your eyes, unwilling to attempt that you’d murdered a man. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

As you laid in your bed that night, you looked at the one candle you had burning beside your bed. Contemplating whether or not to blow it out. Watching the flame kept your mind away from the memories you’d made today. You’d never seen such horrid things before, and much less partook in them. You’d killed a man. And yet, felt no remorse, which made you feel terrible, but maybe that alone counted for something. But soon even that left as your memories shifted to the feeling of being in Sandor's arms. 

Before you could blow it out, 

you began to hear the sounds of metal clanking up the hall. Sandor thought you’d never notice, but he often walked up and down your halls more than he was meant to. Simply to make sure you were alright. 

Every time you heard the metal clanking pass you’d smile to yourself. Only this time it stopped, in front of your door. You sat up slightly on your elbows and peered towards the door. Without knocking, he came inside your chamber. 

“What’re you doing here?” You asked in a whisper. 

He didn’t respond, but made his way to that same golden pitcher in the corner of your room. 

“It’s water, remember?” You said. He huffed and put it back down without taking a swig of it. 

“What are you-” You began before he spoke in a low deep husky voice. 

“You could’ve been killed.” He said without looking at you. 

“But I wasn’t.” You said in a sweet whisper.

He began to walk towards your bed. “The fucking cunts would ‘ave taken you bloody every which way, that pretty throat would’ve been slit open. You’d been left for the fucking rats.” 

You took his hand and pulled him onto the bed, his metal scrapping the delicate sheets as he sat on it. 

“You saved me, you’re the bravest man I’ve ever seen.” You said with a strange kind of adornment, one he’d never heard before. 

“Brave?” He dryly scoffed, “Dogs don't need courage to chase rats.” 

“You’re no dog.” You say with that same sweet whisper, it’s as if you’d realized you’d began to fall deeper into whatever emotional trap you two had created here. 

“You killed that man?” He asked in a low whisper. 

“I did.”

“How’d that feel.” 

“Necessary.” 

He stared at you for a moment, not in judgment or disgust but in understanding and some other emotion you couldn’t quite understand just yet. 

“You can’t do that again.” 

“Kill?” 

“No.” His eyebrows furrowed, he couldn’t give less of a shit who you killed or why, “You risked your life for that Stark girl.” 

“You saw that?” 

“She kept yapping about it.” His tone husky 

“I needed her safe first.”

“Too bad.” He said not giving you any room to argue as his thumb ran over the cut on your eyebrow, you winced slightly. “I’d kill those cock sucking rats a million times again if I could. Died too quickly. I should have cut their arms off, their hands, taken their eyes for even looking at you.” 

Your hand came to his jaw, pulling yourself to his lips but he pulled away. with a sigh he came close again. He rested his forehead on yours. 

“I don’t know how to- do this- gently.” He let out a small rumble, “fuck” he hissed “i want to do this gently. I want to be gentle with you.”

He was like a dog given a bone that he so badly wanted to preserve. 

His hand came to your lap, and fisted the fabric of your nightgown. You placed your hands on top of his, you smoothed out his hand to lay flat on your lap. 

“Like this..” you whispered as you guided his hand up, making the fabric ride up. As your thighs became more and more visible he stopped and backed away, 

“No, no this isn’t right.” He grumbled as he walked over towards a large chair in the corner of your room. His face was illuminated by that single candle light. You could see his frustration and desperation in a battle with one another. 

You stood, and walked towards him. He slumped forwards. Resting his forearms against his strong thighs. 

“I can’t be what you wan- what you need.” He corrected. His voice was low and deep. 

You pushed him back by his shoulders, making him lean against the back of the chair. His deep scowl was ever present but it didn’t stop you from running your fingers through his coarse hair. 

“I shouldn’t have come back here. Should’ve stayed the fuck away. Left you be,” 

“I don’t think either of us have much a choice.” You said as you moved yourself between his large thighs. Standing in front of him still running your hands through his hair. “Do you think of that night?” You asked in a whisper. 

“Fuck do you think-“ He barked back before you stopped him, 

“Gentle.” You corrected him 

“Aye.” He conceded painfully, his hands coming to your sides holding you by your waist. His large hands engulfed your ribs. 

“What part of it do you think of?” You whispered sweetly as you began to move on top of him. Your thighs spread across his as you straddled him. His eyes never leave yours. 

He grumbled something low, you couldn’t make it out, but it sounded like “Your eyes.” 

You didn’t want to push him, to make him repeat it. 

Your hand cupped his chin, as you slowly pressed your lips against his. You pecked at his lips for a moment. Then pulling away, looking into his eyes waiting for his response. His eyes filled with shame, he looked away. 

You pressed a kiss into the scarred tissue on his cheek, he flinched at the feelings and his eyes darted back to you, 

“My face, why did you-“ He rasped suddenly 

“Don’t you want me?” 

“Course’ I do but I-“ he cut himself off as his lips hit yours once again, he sucked on your lips as hardly audible groans escaped his throat. 

You pressed your thinly clothed cunt against his hardening bulge. However as soon as he felt it he grabbed you by your hips and lifted you up. You whined, and his forehead slumped forward and rested on your chest. “Fuck-“ he said breathlessly, “Can’t do that shit to me.” he panted. 

“Why?” you whined a little too loudly, his grip on you tightened. 

“Told you, stubborn fucking girl.” He finally caught his breathe, “Ye poke at me too much and i’ll fuck you bloody.” His eyes leaving yours in what looked like guilt.

“That’s what I want-“ 

“Don’t matter.” He snipped back quickly, his eyes snapping back to yours. “Once you're wed that imp will stick his cock in ya’ and know you’re not his.” He said, his words harsh, sharp and cold 

“I’m not.” you said, his eyes went a little wide, with what? adornment? 

You slowly lowered your hips onto his once again. Waiting for his push back but were met with none. You let out a small gasp as the bulge separated your lips through the thin fabric that covered your cunt. Another moan left your lips once you felt the hardened mound poke at your entrance. You grinded against it, your cunt began to clench around nothing. 

“At’s it” He groaned into your neck, “Grin’ yerself on my cock.” He grumbled low and deep. 

His face contorted, his muscles tensed, and his groans became more and more primal. His grip on your hips began to sting a little how tightly he held you. Your cheeks began to heat up, and that knot in your stomach tightened. 

He picked you up abruptly, kissing your neck. 

“On your back, now.” He commanded as he placed you onto the fur rug on your bed chambers floor. 

He untied his breeches that clearly had a wet spot on it, unclear if it was your doing or his. He was still fully covered in his armor, as he pulled out his cock. Harder than you’d seen it before. 

You rode up your night gown to your hips and slipped out of the thin underclothes you’d had on. 

He was on his knees before you, you on your back, legs bent and spread, ready and inviting. 

He stared at you, admiring you. 

He placed his heavy aching member between your folds. Rubbing up and down, his tip hitting your clit in the most perfect way. 

He pressed your thighs together, and he let out a long drawn out groan. 

“Fuck!” He hissed as he began to buck himself against your cunt. “So fuckin’ wet” He growled as his bucking continued in a more erratic pace. 

You arched your back and squeezed your thighs together as his fat tip kept hitting your clit

“Don’t- Don’t stop.” You whimpered looking up at his hair falling into his face, his eyes trailing all over you, from your wet thighs to your breasts that bounced with every thrust to your pouting lips all the way back to your eyes. 

“Not fuckin’ stopping.” He said through gritted teeth. “But,” He was stopped by a deep guttural moan, “Don’t look at me like that.” He said panting, “You’ll make me finish too quickly.” He said once more through gritted teeth. 

You took it as a challenge, stubborn as you were. You gave him a smile, and a giggle. 

“Fuckin' stubborn girl.” He said through gritted teeth, then picking you up and turning you around. Your back flesh with his armored chest. 

He pressed your thighs together again, and pushed his cock back in between them, but slightly missing and catching your entrance. Even though he graced it only slightly you moaned so beautifully it almost made him cum right then. That's when you realized how truly lovely it would feel to have him inside of you. 

“I want it inside” You moaned as one of your arms reached over and behind you to wrap around his broad shoulders. While your other hand held his large forearm that draped over your stomach holding you in place. 

“Can’t do that to you.” He said breathlessly, as his other hand removed the straps of your gown. As it fell to your waist, he cupped your breasts, his large hand completely engulfing it. 

You whined again. You didn’t care if you were ruined, you wanted to be. But you couldn’t force him. 

His tongue and teeth danced along your neck, you begged in your mind that he’d bite down or suck on your skin but no, never. Never to burden you with evidence that this ever happened. 

You felt that heat rise and the knot in your belly begin to snap. He could feel you clenching and it produced a vulgar moan from him, 

“That’s alright, you can cum,” He grunted, as he said that you moved your head back and faced him. “MH-” He gave you a sloppy and passionate kiss to mute your moan as you came over his cock. As your high was ridden out, he continued to thrust, he separated the kiss and looked deeply into your now exhausted and satisfied eyes, “Sandor” You whispered, sweetly, “Sandor,” 

He didn’t break your eye contact, his teeth gritted as he tried to hold back his moans as he began to spill out and over your thighs, “(Y/N)” He growled with a final deep and long thrust. 

As you laid there, on the fur rug of your room catching your breath. He laid with you. 

You peered over to him, “I meant what I said.” He peered over to you, raising one eyebrow. “I’m not his.” You said softly. 

“Aye.” He looked away, “But for your sake he’d better think you are.” He said in a low husky voice. 

You raised your hand to his scarred cheek, you began to run your fingers over it when he pulled away. 

“I don’t mind it, really,” You whispered. 

“Every one fucking minds it.” He hissed 

“I don’t.” You said back defiantly 

He huffed, and laid there in silence, he looked over at you, feelings somewhat bad he’d snapped at you. ‘Gentle’ he remembered. 

“When I was a boy, my brother caught me with one of his toys. Thought I stole it. I didn’t, just playing with it. Pressed my head to the fire. All like Baelish told you.” He let out another sigh, “But the worst part was that it was my brother who did it. And my father who protected him. Told everyone my bedding caught fire.” 

You moved closer to him and rested your head on his chest. You tried to listen to his heart beating through the armor, only making out a few muffled thumps. Your eyes heavy, closed soon enough. 

When you woke in the middle of the night you were in your alone bed, your legs were cleaned and you were dressed. 

And 

Your candle was out.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

Every Morning since the riots you were awoken by a handmaiden, sometimes two. They’d dress you in red or gold. Braiding your hair, being sure to put lots of intricate, and no doubt expensive hair pins in it. You were beginning to feel more like the ornate decor that was scattered around kings landing than you felt like an actual woman anymore. 

As you walked the halls your handmaidens were like guards, guards of a prisoner. 

You passed a mirror as you walked and caught a glimpse of yourself, hardly recognizable. “As high as honour” what a joke you thought. Look at you now, looking more and more like a Lannister with each passing day. The red and gold you were forced to wear was a stark contrast from the blues and silvers you’d grown to love. But now you’d really had no home. You didn’t align yourself with the rest of your house anymore either. Lysa and Robin felt like intruders in your home, and they treated you the same. And now, Baelish was a true intruder in it. Being allowed in by your stepmother who’d no right to allow him entrance. Entrance to your home and now your titles. Rightfully yours. 

To gain your titles the Lannister's were your only hope now, so for now you’d be Cersei’s doll and Tyrion's wife. For now, you’d play along. 

But where did that leave Sandor?

You knew that first night he was angry, not at you. He was angry you were the one thing he couldn’t protect. You were his master's thing and couldn’t stop them from toying with you. He was angry you were the only thing he’d ever wanted, and just like everything he couldn’t have. He was angry he couldn’t tell you how much he wanted you. 

And the second night, he was scared, and vulnerable. 

You’d stopped eating since the riot. Normally, that would have gone unnoticed. However your now doting husband has made sure to keep eyes on you at all times. Your handmaidens are unwilling to engage in an argument with you knowing you aren’t the person to pick a fight with, told Tyrion. 

As your ladies ceaselessly brought you trays of food whilst you attempted to lounge on your balcony while you read you simply waved your hand at each tray, now not even bothering with a “No, thank you.” As it didn’t seem to stop them. 

Tyrion stepped onto the balcony, your eyes went towards him but snapped back onto your book as soon as you knew who was joining your handmaidens in disturbing your peace. 

“Lord Tyrion.” You said in greeting, hardly exerting any energy into it. You would have felt badly about discarding your virtue once more for another man if he’d hadn’t made you feel even more like a prisoner. 

“Lady (Y/N)” He said back, sitting across from you, “What are you reading?”

“Something of little consequence,” You said, closing the book and looking over your shoulder at the women who surrounded you “May we be left alone?” You asked, the women didn’t budge but looked to Tyrion who nodded at them, once at his command they left. 

“They don’t listen to me.” You said with harsh eyes. 

“I told them not to.” He said with a huff as he repositioned himself in his seat and putting on a half hearted smile. 

“Did you tell them to dress me like this too?” You said tossing the closed book to the side table next to you. 

“I asked them to help you fit in,” He said, leaning closer to you, his eyes filled with some kind of concern. “Joffrey has a tendency to single you out I wanted to see if I could correct that... Aesthetically.. Cersei had some dresses made for you and-”

“If you wish for me to continue to view you favorably, you are failing.” You said stoically, "Was I inadequate before?"

"No- no I-" He stopped himself, “I just want to do all I can to ensure your safety.” He conceded. You did appreciate it, but your need for freedom overweighed that appreciation heavily.

You sighed and looked away, off towards the near distant ocean of blue. You fidgeted with your new golden rings on your fingers. “And, you’re not eating.” He said in a lower tone, 

“And, you’re spying on me?” You said now focusing back on him. 

“Your ladies told me-” 

“Your ladies.” You corrected. 

“I am concerned. Ever since the riots you’ve not eaten a meal.” He huffed, “You need to eat. Name any food you want and I wish to have it made.” 

“I don’t want to eat.” You responded bluntly.  

“I am your husband to be, It is my duty-”

“Your duty? Your duty to imprison me in this place, in this engagement?” Your angry scowl dropped soon as you realized how cutting your words were. To him he was keeping you from further harm, and you knew that. You sighed and looked back to the sea, “It is hard for me to eat, it is hard for me to sleep.”

“Tell me how to help and I will.” He said almost pleading as he leaned forward and held his hands out palms up. "I’d do anything for my lady wife.” The words ‘lady wife’ made you want to vomit, especially after the previous night. 

“I want to go home. I want to claim my titles.” 

“You and I both.” He said with a dry chuckle. “I have wanted to claim my own birthrights long enough to know the feeling.”

“Were they stolen from under your grieving feet by Petyr Baelish?” 

“No-”

“Mine were. And I am powerless to stop it, because I sit here in this castle in these red gowns and Lannister gold. I am presenting myself as indifferent to my own birthright being stolen from me.” You sighed, “I understand what you are trying to do. I do, I may be angry but I do understand. But you need to understand this, in doing what you feel is protecting me, whether it is or is not, you have taken whatever independence I had left.”

“I understand.” He said sitting back into his seat, “And I will do all I can to help you proclaim your titles. But, it would seem Stannis aims to attack this city.” 

“Stannis Baretheon?” You asked in some confusion, no one ever told you anything.

“It seems we are not the only ones who wish to claim titles.” He said in an attempt to jest, “So we're not the men to fight for you yet, however we aim to win this war. Once it is, I will see to it that your titles are restored.” 

You smiled, “Thank you, Tyrion.” Although not in the slightest comforted by the idea of war approaching your doorstep

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆

As you walked down the halls of the castle you were hit with a brick wall, Sandor. 

“you’re not eating.” Sandor said in a hushed but deep and husky tone

“How’d you-” You began before he interrupted you. 

“All those fucking handmaidens tell the royals.” He said in annoyance

“I eat when I'm hungry. haven’t been in a while.” 

“you don’t eat, you’ll starve.” His voice was like he was warning you.

“unlikely. That takes time. Stannis aims to attack the city. I'm sure I'll be dead then.” You responded stoically.

“You won’t die.” He said as if it were fact,

“How can you be certain?” You retorted defiantly 

“Cause I fucking said so.” He said stomping off, his cape flowing behind him.

NOTE: Hey all you cool cats and kittens I hope you like this one!!! The next two are going to be a wittle cwazy just a warning... ALSO yall I wrote the smut part during jury duty LMAO... anyways

Also the last few chapters have gotten so much love and I am so very grateful thank you!!! <3

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

If Sansa lived in our time, she would have tumblr and she would write Loras x oc fanfics. You can't change my mind. Most 13 years old girl ever.