#yandere tyrion lannister x reader

[gulnarsultan]

Imagine Yandere platonic Lannisters disappointment to know that Queen Rhaella escaped Westeros with Viserys 3 and unborn Daenerys. Oh, Lannisters would be furious.

Plot twist: Queen Rhaella Targaryen survived when Daenerys was born. Before she left Westeros, she left a letter which was written in Valyrian language. And who could know Valyrian language? That’s right Modern Reader. So when he and Jaime came back, he gives her a letter and asked her what does it say? Once Modern Reader reads the letter, everyone could see Reader’s shaking, and replied “I’ll see you again, Sweet girl. When I’ll find you, I’ll get you.” Modern Reader starts to shake even more with the thought of what Yandere Rhaella would do to her, when she comes back. And that’s how Stannis found out about Reader’s abuse by the Queen.

That’s scary. Also how would Yandere platonic Lannisters would comfort Modern Reader? Because thanks to the Queen, Reader is traumatised and have nightmares about it. Of course Reader would feel better that is, until someone would remind her of Rhaella or would call her “Sweet girl.” Tywin would be hurt, because he and Joanna used to call her by that nickname.

So yea, I would like to know details of Lannisters and probably Baratheons comforting Modern Reader.

The Lannisters will do anything to help the reader get well. Robert will instruct the reader that no one should ever call him that again.

Robert: You don't have to be afraid. Those stupid Targaryens won't hurt you. The Baratheons will destroy them.

Reader :🥺 Thank you.

Robert: Besides, my brother Stannis would be very happy to protect you.

Robert : 😂

Stannis :😡

Reader : 🤭

[sugarprincessbitch]

Hi! I saw that you are open for solicitations, so…. How about yandere! Tyrion who is in love with Reader? She is just so sweet and kind, she doesn't understand much about politics, but she makes her effort. She is (unfortunately) engaged against her will to a nasty lord, what would Tyrion do? Headcannons, please

WARNING: Mentions of Yandere aspects, manipulation, death and killing

It was another boring day at court on the Red Keep, Tyrion had taken the place deceased Ned Stark had taken as the hand of the King...this king being his stupid nephew Joffrey. He was with the other advisors hearing Cersie ranting demands like always and dear Joffrey making additions to his mother's no senses.

Tyrion was like always, drowning in his cup of wine, trying to zone out his sister's annoying high pitch voice. He decided to observe the people in the room, he saw the same long and boring faces of the lords, but when he put his piercing gaze on Cersie direction...he saw a young maiden standing uncomfortable behind the Queen, he had never seen her before or never cared too much to notice. She peaked his attention...he had seen young noble maidens flocking around his sister, but the difference is how she didn't recoil while looking at his horrible face or his odd short limbs.

...

It is a matter well known that Tyrion is terrible at anything that matters the problems of the heart...we know from the books and the series, mostly the books, that he had troublesome relationships with women in his life. He tends to be naturally possessive and protective of the woman he holds affection for, so if he was a Yandere...he will be a dangerous one.

He can seem calm and collected on the exterior, but he is an animal waiting to snap, for something he is the son of Tywin Lannister. Tyrion will appeal to be passive aggressive to a possible threat for his darling affection, or even recurring to send men to kill them, but only if this person is a minor lord or a commoner.

Tyrion doesn't have to his advantage beauty or natural charm to attract his darling, but he has his cunning mind...that will help manipulating her. I think he will guilt trip her, using his disability at favour.

If his darling was not a noble lady, he will try to use his power and financial position to charm her, if the first doesn't work then he will threaten her with it. He may be a mockery in his family, but he still has the Lannister blood running from his veins and their money in his pockets.

But we will suppose that the darling is a noble lady of a not such an important house, then he will have complications at the time of having her in his grasp fully. Because there are norms on how a lady has to handle themselves and also a social expectation of courting and marriage, he will not only have to gain his darling affection but also the favour of her father.

It will be more troublesome if her darling is engaged with another Lord, this will send him to a furious pit and he will start to plan the downfall of the poor bastard that decided to get on his way.

Tyrion will probably try to coerce his darling father to change his mind and choose him as a possible bachelor, maybe he is a dwarf, but he comes from an important house and also he is currently in a very prestigious position, the hand of the king.

If this doesn't work (that I think it will probably go this way) he will convince his darling that he is better than an old hag, he will treat her kindly and with the utmost respect. Also, he will start courting his darling and showering her in costly jewelry and refined dresses.

When he finally has her on his grasp, convinced that he is the better suitor for her and not his future husband, he will fall upon his "enemy" with everything he has. Clearly, sending his men to kill silently that Old lord his darling was engaged with, claiming that it died from his frail and old age, natural causes.

The sudden death of his darling suitor and the pressure he will put not only financially but also using his position on the court so your lord father has no other option than to marry you to him.

Now, he finally has you for himself... And you know what they say, the preserverants win at the end.

[aphroditelovesu]

Um, hello there. I just wanted to ask, can you write yandere headcanons of House Lannister? I just read that you can, but if not then I’m sorry and you can skip it anyway. But if you can then it’ll be wonderful

2nd request: ''Hi, umm… I know that you’re probably busy with requests and asks, but um can you write Yandere platonic Lannisters with the Reader? If you can of course'' - send by Anon.

"Hear Me Roar." — House Lannister.

❝ 🦁— lady l: I'm sorry for the delay but I think you're used to it, right? Lol, I really apologize. These last few months have been absolute madness and my grandfather is sick, my father too and everything is out of control. Anyway, I hope you like these headcanons!

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of death by fire, threats and implied murder.

❝🦁pairing: yandere platonic!house lannister x gender neutral!reader.

None of this was planned or thought through. Just happened. Your introduction to House Lannister just…happened. Some would say you were lucky, others that you were cursed to have to deal with this family, but none of that really mattered. It didn't matter because you're with them and they won't let you.

Contrary to what many people think, your family was already close in the right measure to the Lannisters, your family was from a House Vassal of the Lannisters so you already had a connection, but it wasn't really strong or similar to what it became in the next few years. Your mother was a close friend of Joanna's and both of them shared the pregnancy, you grew up alongside the twins and that was something that solidified the bond between the three of you.

You, Cersei and Jamie were inseparable. Though Tywin was initially apprehensive about this relationship, Joanna eased her husband's concerns by demonstrating how much she adored you too. It was quite common to see the three of you playing together at Casterly Rock for everyone's amusement. The three of you were never apart, and Cersei sulked when she was forced to say goodbye to you. She hated it.

Tywin was never really close to you, it wasn't because he had anything against you or anything, he was just distant. But that all changed when tragedy struck your family and you were forced to flee to the protection of the Lannisters. Your parents had apparently insulted the Mad King and, as a form of punishment, he had given orders to burn your family. You were the only one to survive because you were protected by Tywin and Joanna. They were your family now. Whether you want to or not.

Cersei was over the moon when she heard you were her sibiling now. And Jamie couldn't be happier to finally have you with them, really with them. Joanna didn't mind, she was happy and she really adored you and was quick to refer to you as hers, Tywin tried to be rational and the voice of reason saying you'd just stay with them until everything worked out, but nothing would work out, not after he became as obsessed with you as the rest of your family.

Joanna was a loving and very kind mother, she absolutely adored you and spoiled you in spades. You were allowed to do whatever you wanted and get away with no punishment. She tried to fight her growing obsession, she really tried out of consideration for her late friend but when you called her ''mother'' for the first time, there was no going back. You were hers from that moment on. She loves spending time with you, reading or doing whatever you like.

Tywin was an authoritative figure and that has never changed over the years, he has only the best for you in mind and that's why he is so strict, but he has a soft side that shows only to his wife and you. He tries to be as tough as his wife doesn't even try, but he will always give in to you. Especially if you look at him with tears in your eyes, his heart melts right there and he does what you ask on the spot. Just like Joanna, you can get away with whatever you do because to him you could never do wrong. You were perfect, and anyone who dared to disagree would find it no good to cross Tywin Lannister.

Jamie is the quietest of his family, he is the understanding brother with your feelings and is always there to protect and take care of you. He is the most protective of his family and he is very suspicious of anyone who tries to get too close to you. He will get into fights for you, feeling proud and triumphant when he gets your support during a fight. Jamie adores you so much, you're the closest thing to an understanding brother he's ever had and he'd be damned if he let anyone take you away. You were a Lannister and always would be.

Cersei is the most possessive and greedy of her family, she will do anything to get your attention and will fly into a rage if she doesn't get it. She hates sharing you with anyone other than her and her twin brother. Cersei might even see you as she sees Jamie, as an extension of herself and not really a person. Like a possession. Something that belongs to her and she's not the type to share. She loves spending time with you, talking, gossiping or just enjoying your company.

The whole family was happy, everyone adored you and you adored them. Everything was perfect. Tywin and Joanna were your loving parents and Cersei and Jamie your mischievous and clingy siblings. Everything was perfect like it's never been before. Until Joanna got pregnant again. Everyone was happy about her pregnancy, including you who were longing for a younger sibling. Cersei wasn't really happy about it all, seeing as you seemed to spend more time with mom than with her because of the pregnancy. Jamie had no problem with that, not like her sister, and just enjoyed this period of Joanna's life.

When the day of delivery finally came, it was difficult and painful, you were there the whole time and you saw Joanna Lannister die. Your mother. It was as if your world had collapsed, not just yours, but Tywin and the twins' as well. You welcomed with joy Tyrion, but your father and sibilings did not. They rejected him, treating him like nothing and blaming him for Joanna's death. During the long period of mourning, you were the only company Tywin sought out. You tried to comfort him and seek solace for yourself, you were the only one to witness the Lord of Casterly Rock's vulnerability.

You were Tyrion's only constant companion as he grew up, constantly despised by his family and those around him for being a dwarf, he clung to you more and more. You were the only person who really cared for him, the one who convinced Tywin and Cersei to act with a modicum of decency around Tyrion, at least while you're around.

Tyrion is the most abrasive of his family regarding his obsession with you, he knows very well that his feelings are wrong, to say the least, but he tries to control as much as he can, although he can't help but be so attached to you. He craves your attention and approval as he grows up and even as an adult that hasn't changed. He wants your approval, if he can't get it from his father then he wants his. He is very kind to you, but he is still a Lannister, and may the Seven have mercy on anyone who dares to harm you, for Tyrion would be sure to ruin them utterly.

All Lannisters are obsessed with you in their own way and have their own infighting, Tywin and Cersei want to keep you away from Tyrion as they are sure Tyrion will be your undoing, Jamie is happy to see that you care too about your brother and he makes sure you spend your days with him and Tyrion, much to the chagrin of your father and sister. They all fight each other and wouldn't mind killing each other to have you. But everything changes when there is a threat against you and they all quickly join together to get rid of that threat quickly and painfully. May the Seven forbid anything to happen to you, for you can be sure the whole family would go wild and most likely blame each other.

There are rumors that Tywin supported Robert Baratheon because of a personal revenge, some say it was because of what the Mad King did for your dead family, others say it's because Rhaegar insulted him. Rhaegar insulted him by wanting to take you as his spouse instead of Cersei, and Tywin could not allow that. He would not allow his beloved child to be taken from him. And Cersei agreed with that completely, she didn't want you to marry and leave her, Jamie didn't seem to mind too much but he doesn't like the idea of being taken away from you, as long as you were happy he would be fine. Tyrion is the most selfless and says that if you ever want to marry, he will support you, as long as it is someone he has highly valued. You are a Lannister and therefore you must have only the best and your family will ensure that. They promise you.

[lazypinkpig]

A Woman's Touch Preview

Summary: Julianna was Tyrion Lannister daughter from a random whore, she was as what others say a replica of the late Lady Joanna Lannister. But little Juli wasn't t just a simple child, no she was made for something greater. Even thou she was a bastard Tyrion still took Julianna in, in an attempt to ire his father, the great lion Tywin Lannister. And add to that, King Robert Baratheon legitimized her just to annoy the old lion.

Watch as how she changed the Game of Thrones.

(Warning: Game of Thrones literally is a warning itself, but this story consist of incest, murder, manipulation, death, etc.

A/N: So I'm a newbie author and English is not my first language. So don't expect anything great. This is merely to satisfy my Tywin Lannister obsession. And I'm not really that familiar with how the court works in GoT and I'm also not that in depth towards it's lore, so please forgive me should I mistake something, and do tell me so I could correct it.)

"A woman carry a life that could change history itself, so why is it that we are seen less. When it was from our womb that gave life to all."

"I'll show you grandfather that a woman isn't just for child bearing."

"oh poor unfortunate father, given how smart you are you still failed to realize that grandfather has replaced you. The child that I carry will be the heir to Casterly Rock."

"Joffery, my dear boy, do not be foolish. I am your aunt we cannot marry. My love, look at me you will not disappoint me. Do you understand?"

"You may be queen but I have the love of Tywin Lannister."

"I am capable of many things even kinslaying."

"You do not know the misery I have experienced in slums, so please forgive me should I do anything to make sure my children never experience what I have experienced."

"When you first brought me here I was imagining the life I will have with my father, but your constant drinking and debauchery has lowered my expectations."

"Don't expect big things you'll only disappoint yourself."

"Your needle work has greatly improved." Tywin said as he entered my solar. He walked up near me and sat at the nearest chair. Given that I was sitting on the floor with soft wool underneath me, I had to really look up towards him.

"It's been the same, grandfather." I said with a slight glare. He merely sighed, in which I turned back to my stitching. "Dare I ask where is father?"

"Probably whoring his way in some brothel." He answered with clear annoyance and disgust in his tone.

"Have you ever been in any brothel, grandfather?" I asked with real curiosity. Given how proud the old lion was, my guess is he never did, and if he ever did it won't be for pleasure as he is always about business.

He hummed, and seemingly contemplated for a moment but he didn't answer my question.

But I knew the truth, Tywin Lannister isn't so different from Tyrion Lannister when it comes to carnal desires.

[kingofthelizardpeople]

Yandere Daenerys Targaryen x Reader Part 1

You didn't know how long you were locked away in the dungeons of Kings Landing. Months? Weeks? Or maybe just days? The only thing you knew, was that it was a living hell. Your mother, queen Cersei, imprisoned you as soon as your older brother Tommen took his life, wanting to prevent you from staking a claim to the iron throne.

But you didn't even want the throne in the first place, yet it didn't matter to her. Your mother was known for how protective she was of her children, this pattern however didn't apply to you. Since the day you were born Cersei would pay you very little mind, handing you off to servants while she took care of your siblings.

When she finally saw the opportunity to become the ruling queen, after your father and both of your brothers were the protector of the realm instead of her, your mother was ready to sacrifice you.

Since you were imprisoned, you barely had anything to eat or drink, you couldn't sleep out of fear of someone slitting your throat in your sleep. You felt like your suffering would never end, until a guard opened your door and discretely guided you out of the castle.

You were greeted by a small boat, your uncle Tyrion and a group of soldiers. While your mother hated him, you always liked your uncle. He was the only one in your family to treat you like you actually part of house Lannister. "The outcasts must stick together" he always told you.

Tyrion carefully pulled you into the boat before your travel over the seas began. He told you about a new queen he served. That she would take you in and protect you from your mothers wrath. A Targaryen queen that gave 'birth' to the first dragons seen in generations.

Arriving at Dragonstone, the base used by the queen and her army, you became more and more anxious. You were essentially at the mercy of a unknown Targaryen and her giant fire-breathing lizards.

Your uncle quided you into a empty chamber and left you shortly after, leaving you to take in your new environment. But before you could make yourself comfortable, a sliver haired woman entered and it didn't take to much effort to guess who stood before you: Daenerys Targaryen.

You stared nervously at her, shuffling back when she takes s step towards you. "You must be Y/N. I've heard a lot about you and I'm glad you could savely arrive." Daenerys greeted you with a polite smile. She took another step towards you, leading to you moving back again.

This time however it didn’t go unnoticed by the mother of dragons. She was suprised at your behaviour. While she understood that you were suspicious of a to you unknown queen of a rival house, it still was shocking to Daenerys how shyly you acted around her.

At first she herself was unsure about this meeting, having no idea if you had any negative intentions, but you didn't seem like a possible traitor or enemy to her. You were a injured puppy in her eyes. Barely younger than her, bruises on your face and arms, dried out lips, dark bags under your eyes and visible chest bones, simply as the features that were visible to the queen.

"I don't want to hurt you. You have nothing to fear." Daenerys stated, her heart breaking at your reactions, not wanting to imagine how you turned into this state. She didn't move further towards you, not wanting to scare her guest even more. The Targaryen heir wanted to speak up again, when she noticed your clothes. Completely dirty and torn apart, letting you look more like a street beggar than a Lannister prince/princess.

"We have prepared new clothes for you, if you want to change." She offered you patiently. You stared down at the ground, anxiously rubbing your wrist "I don't want to inconvenience anybody." Daenerys smiles warmly at you "It won't be, besides we can't have you walk around in torn rags."

You nodded shyly, leading to the breaker of chains taking another step towards you, with the same reaction as before following. "You don't have to be afraid of me. I simply want to assist you. May I?"

After hesitating for a moment, you nodded again. At your permission given, Daenerys approaches you, this time you stood still as she was now closer to you than ever before. The silver haired woman placed a hand at your chest and began to unbutton your shirt. Her warm and soft touch was a welcome feeling against your hurting body.

Daenerys took off your torn top, leaving you shirtless infront of her. You blushed as red as her lips while the dragon queen helped you into a fresh shirt. "Much better now. Isn't it?" She asks lifting your chin with her finger.

The mother of dragons wanted you to be safe, she felt as if you needed her protection and affection. As if she was the only one who could help you. And this was only the beginning for her.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I'm too scared to ask about my Tyrion 3 marriage proposals again, I'm sorry– X(

I’m sorry! I thought I had answered it already but I’m probably remembering wrong 😰. I know I’ve gotten your asks though. You’re more than welcome to send it in again just in case (I’m so sorry to ask you to write it all over again😭). I do know that the times I’ve meant to answer your ask before I’ve gotten a bit confused on what exactly you’re wanting me to answer. Like, are you looking for House Lannister’s reactions to Tyrion supposedly marrying off Joanna!lookalike!Reader? If Tyrion would even really do it to begin with? Or how the three houses that the Reader is being married off to would be yandere towards Joanna!lookalike?

[houseofyanderes]

                            CHARACTER LIST/RULES

WHAT I’LL WRITE: 

nsfw and sfw

any (insert race/ethnicity/particular thing) for reader

any gender pronouns/identity

that wonderful polyamory stuff

yandere/darker material 

WHAT I WON’T WRITE:

pedophilia

rape

scat/watersport/spitting

character match-ups

HOTD CHARACTERS:

alicent hightower

daemon targaryen

aemond targaryen

rhaenyra targaryen

+ feel free to request new characters but be patient because i have to get a feel for them first | also be nice if i outright say no

GOT CHARACTERS: 

tyrion lannister

daenerys targaryen

jon snow

jamie lannister

the hound

petyr baelish

cersei lannister

robb stark

+ feel free to request new characters but be patient because i have to get a feel for them first | also be nice if i outright say no

I DO NOT WRITE FOR:

lucerys velaryon

jacaerys velaryon

aegon II targaryen

otto hightower

viserys I targaryen

roose bolton

ramsay bolton

theon greyjoy

tywin lannister

+ please don't ask for these characters or make me say why i'm saying no to these characters, no is a full sentence :)

i do headcanons, drabbles and scenarios. specify which you’d like when you send your request or i’ll wind up picking for you. for headcanons you can request up to FOUR characters per ask. you can, of course, send the same request for a different character.  vague requests are EXTREMELY LOW priority and i probably won’t answer/write them at all  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (example: aemond targaryen x gender neutral reader). more detailed requests encouraged (example: jon snow x reader and how they make up after a fight) my name is BEE, 25, black, she/her, and i'm crazy enough to want to have a fun/peaceful time writing house of the dragon and game of thrones imagines. please pray for me as i enter THE discourse fandoms of the eon.

[missglaskin]

I know you probably busy and it might be a stupid question, but how would Yandere House Lannister react when someone called Reader a bastard or said “You are not a Lannister, they took out of pity”? And what would happen to Reader’s family?

Note-I will answer one of the questions

Tywin is a man of pride. Any slight insult towards you is a slight towards him. If he overheard the person say this, Tywin would demand the guards to take them away. He will inform the court any man or woman shall say such things will not get to keep their tongue. The person will be executed publicly. He is not the best at comforting, but he reminds you that you are a Lannister. 

Cersei is fuming. Like her father, she will demand the guards take away the person. She will make plans to visit them later. Their death will be slow and painful. But for now, Cersei will spend the time holding you close and assuring you. Saying these are all such ‘slanders’ made by the enemy. That you are a Lannister, one of them. 

It takes all his strength from Jaime not to plunge a sword through the person’s neck. He will loom over them and demand they repeat what they just claimed. Whether the person does or not, does not matter to Jaime. He will be sure that others are a witness to the person’s humiliation. Jaime trusts his family to deal with the issue, but shall they involve him. He’s glad to do what he must. 

Tyrion is used to all the whispers behind his back, the snides and insults. But what he will never tolerate is any remarks toward you. He will have Bronn humiliate the person in front of everyone in court. Then send them to the dungeons, he lets it be up to you what you want him to do. Shall you make the person your fool, send them to exile or have them hanged, Tyrion is happy to please. 

[alannybunnue]

I can just picture little baby Eddard Tywin (lol) being spoiled rotten by his auntie Sansa ❤️

I also pictured the little prince as being one of the few people in Tyrion’s family that actually likes him 🥲 (just like his grandfather other grand uncle Jaime)

THAT IS SO WHOLESOME I CAN'T-

So the reader gets to visit her family in King's Landing as they have a peace treaty with Robb for a while.

She spends time with her favorite relatives, of course her mother is included, but she loves her funny/smart uncle Tyrion.

When she meets Sansa for the second time, the girl immediately fell in love for the little bundle of joy that is Eddard Tywin.

Also, yes, the first nice thing this baby did for Tyrion was smile at his granduncle. He is a sweet baby ☺

Also the reader may have slapped her brother's head when she heard of a few things he did to Sansa 👀

[yandere-toons]

Yandere Cersei Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon, Ramsay Bolton (Platonic Scenario - "A Fool's Mistake 3: Taking the Black")

Warnings: Abuse of Power, Reality Warping, Violence, Blood, Death, Mentions of Torture, Emotional/Psychological Manipulation, Toxic Mindsets.

Word Count: 7,825.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (You are here).

The silhouettes of free folk dashed between trees and rocks in the silverish light of the full moon. They were clothed in the skins of woodland animals, and they wielded with much dexterity a combination of bows, axes and spears crafted from the forest.

Droves of the free folk had begun to scale the Wall at yesterday's sunset and, from midnight to daybreak, had reached the point where falling meant certain death. Despite enough time passing for the sun to peek over the mountaintop, the space that surrounded the free folk remained dark as night.

The sky was black but held no stars as if drapes had been thrown over the earth. The top of the Wall, a summit that appeared taller than the clouds, was covered in impenetrable darkness. Glimmers of sunlight skirted the darkness, and the scarce light traced the shape of a bubble around the free folk who dared to rise.

The ground was no longer visible to those who looked down in the hope of descending the Wall and testing the climb another day. The ice wall in front of them and the makeshift tools used to hook it was all that met their eyes beyond the shadows.

Whispers seeped into the ears of the free folk, whispers that resembled the faint voices of the people climbing with them. The voices asked for the location of the other free folk, asked after their health and encouraged them to resume the climb.

Once the first ragged antler and stake impaled the ice at the top of the Wall, the free folk realised that their vision had been dulling. In the final moments of heaving oneself onto the Wall, each member of the expedition noted themselves to be the only living thing there.

The sight that greeted them flashed back and forth between the bodies of their fellow free folk and an empty stretch of ice. The shadows warped their eye and seemed to drill into their heads before the darkness took them to the ground far below.

When no birds sang and the air became colder than the depths of a northern pond, you watched for creatures with blue eyes and ghostly skin.

Except for the occasional lash of shadows at the base of snowy trees, the woods lay motionless and free of dark magic on this hour. The current flowing from the distant Bay of Seals was tumultuous and churned as if locked in a storm, but it carried nothing more than the rare howl and rush of icy breath.

* * *

With his wrists bound to the back of a chair and his ankles tied to the wood legs, the sole mercenary to survive the recent battle at the Dreadfort sat in his own sweat. A mob of Bolton soldiers encircled him with their swords raised and their eyes locked on whichever part of him they were most inclined to cut.

The large door to the dining hall creaked open in an outward swing of metal and bending joints. Ramsay Bolton stormed into the room, his fingers playing with a gore-drenched knife.

After a moment of examining the mercenary, the immediate wrath flaring on his face waned and evolved into morbid curiosity. “I remember you.” Ramsay tilted his head and scanned the man's visible wounds and foul odour to confirm his suspicion.

It was then that the mercenary's stomach dropped to bottomless depths, and he began to whisper prayers for the mercy of the Mother.

Unlike the frantic turns and agitated stomps of earlier, Ramsay's next movements were slower and dominated by quiet steps that struck a greater panic in the heart of the mercenary each time. “You took a long look at them.”

From his pocket came the glint of a knife, prompting the mercenary to squirm against the ropes and expel a whimper. Ramsay twirled the weapon in his right hand and conveyed a taste of future pain with unrepentant eye contact. “Just before you tried to kill them.”

Before the tip of the steel could blind the mercenary, the harsh voice of Roose Bolton echoed in the dining hall and overpowered any wails spilling out of the mercenary. “Ramsay!”

The sound was little more than a growl, and Ramsay paused with his knife hovering just in front of the mercenary's eyeball.

The violent shake gripping his arm did not cease, spreading to his lips and upper body as he stared into the mercenary's terror with bubbling insanity that flailed against the bridle he was compelled to put on it. Ramsay vented slivers of his untapped rage through the tremulous breaths whipping past his bared teeth.

While the soldiers beside him kept a tight hold on their swords, Roose did not allow his voice to waver: “We need this one alive.”

The blade was so close that the mercenary's eyelashes brushed it every time he blinked. It quivered with the threat of twitching too far and impaling his skull before he could release a full scream, but Ramsay seemed to find enough delight in his father's command that he turned his head away.

“Oh, he'll live.”

Just as the knife reeled back and then plunged forward, a booming announcement sounded from Roose. “We're going on a diplomatic mission to White Harbor.”

Ramsay listened to his father with a distracted mind plagued by runaway thoughts and bits of emotion he could not manage, his eyes flitting between Roose and the nearest objects while his fingers twitched with ideas of what pain to inflict on the captured mercenary. “When will you return?”

Roose looked upon his struggle with amusement and indifference. “You should know. You're coming with me.”

As if Roose had revoked his legitimacy as the heir, Ramsay raised his head and widened his eyes. The tension clenching his shoulders and jaw shifted to confused glances, and his lips moved to search for the appropriate response that changed with each surge of dissatisfaction and the sense of a goal stepping out of his reach.

“My place is here. I have rallied the men.”

Roose began to approach the main entrance to the fortress and did not slow his stride. “Your place is where I say it is.”

Ramsay stopped walking, but Roose ignored the vicious stare drilling into the back of his head. “Father,” murmured Ramsay, and his next words were spoken through gritted teeth. “I need to find them.”

Roose took a final, definitive step forward and turned, the bottom of his cloak gliding across the floor. “There will be a time for that. Right now, what you need to do is mount a horse and ride with me to White Harbor.”

* * *

The chambers of Tyrion Lannister stank of wine on most nights, but the scent was especially potent on this night. An empty flagon sat at the foot of a luxurious chair, which Tyrion used to rest his legs while he put his mouth to the work of downing every glass he could fill.

With his knuckles pressed underneath his chin, Tyrion observed the half-full goblet with a curious glint in his eye. He laid his hand over the top of it and waited in silence for many a second.

When he retracted his hand and peeked into the cup, a foolish part of him hoped that it would be full again. A layer of wine at the bottom was all that greeted him. Tyrion hurled the goblet at the wall, and a thick wave of blackberry wine exploded onto the stone.

The glass clattered to the floor and rolled into the leg of a chair, streaks of reddish-purple cascading down the rock and draining into the crevices. Droplets continued to seep from the rim of the cup as trails of the dark liquor mixed with the red of a Lannister banner and fell behind a dresser.

As the door slammed behind him, Tyrion stamped past the duo of guards protecting his chambers and snapped his fingers. “With me.”

The guards lifted their shields from the floor and hurried to follow.

Tyrion marched down the corridor with a palace guard on his left and his right. Flanked by the men, he rounded a corner and leaned forward to place his hands upon an ornate set of double doors.

He pushed open the door to Cersei's chambers and found her sitting at the table beside the balcony, a glass in her hand and red wine on her lips. The rattles of the guards' swords and armour must have been loud in the silent halls, for she was facing the entrance without a lick of surprise.

She lowered the glass and eyed him as if he were an insect that had crawled into her bedroom from a hole in the wall. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tyrion widened his eyes and removed his hands from the door, allowing it to shut at his back. “I was concerned,” he lied, feigning fear in an exaggerated, deliberately obvious manner. “Just the other day, a man had his throat slit for sleeping.”

Cersei kept her voice low as though others were in danger of listening. “I believe that to be the work of our mutual friend.” She placed distinct acrimony on the word “friend,” her lip curling.

As her gaze drifted off to the cityscape outside her balcony, Tyrion wondered if the bitterness came from her belief that the word was untrue or the implication that the two of them could ever share a companion. “Don't tell that to the king. He was quite upset at having his prized day interrupted.”

The hand that held onto the wine glass began to shake, and Cersei refrained from looking at her brother. “Joffrey won't see me.” A heaviness existed in her words, a quiet misery that she was attempting to drown in wine.

Tyrion kept his frown level. “Oh, yes. Not since you promised the sorcerer would find their own way back to him, a promise that has yet to be fulfilled.” He tilted his head upon saying the second bit.

Cersei shut her eyes and clenched her teeth slightly, refusing to let the posh smile on her lips fall. She opened her eyes and glanced in his direction when the soft thuds of footsteps came near the table.

A chair squealed as it was pulled from under the table, and Tyrion plopped on it with his hands resting close to Cersei's. “If I say it, I would be branded an enemy of the crown and lose my head within the hour. Perhaps Jaime?”

She turned farther away and fixed her eye on the open doors to the balcony. “Joffrey's working him like a dog.”

A slight sigh rolled out of him, and Tyrion closed his eyes for a pensive instant before opening them with a degree of sympathy. “If Jaime could be here with you, he would be.” He unfurled his arms, turned his palms to the ceiling, and gestured to the bedroom.

Lifting the glass, Cersei took another sip. “I'm not so sure.”

* * *

The courtyard of the Red Keep smelt of pollen as a medley of berry bushes and wildflowers bloomed in the light of day. The leafy grass was green as the coat of arms from House Tyrell of Highgarden, and it swayed in a cool breeze that was welcomed by the lords and ladies dilly-dallying in the sun.

From the generous lengths of the surrounding corridors, Varys and Petyr Baelish strolled into the small garden. Each one moved in tandem with the other just enough to keep up the illusion of leisure and signify that the interaction would not end until one of them deviated from the path.

“The Boltons are a minute settlement thousands of miles away in the North with one fiefdom no larger than my biggest brothel,” said Petyr.

A slight nod of the head came from Varys. “Yes, but some of my little birds have flown north for the summer.”

“And what songs do they sing?” asked Petyr, his lips casting the shadow of a smile as he walked past a servant girl consorting with a visiting lord.

Varys spotted similar goings-on in a corner of the garden ahead, and he cast his gaze in the direction of the man beside him. “They sing that the Bolton's youngest is unbalanced yet terribly ambitious. Certainly one to watch.”

Petyr slowed to a stop and turned on the heels of his boots. He blinked slowly and released a modest sigh, his eyes flickering to his surroundings while his voice quieted. “He's one man with neither the stomach nor the mind for the South.”

Varys looked askance, tilted his head, and raised his shoulders a bit as if considering Petyr's words. “One man nearly toppled the realm not so long ago,” he replied.

The subtlest chuckle—no more than an audible exhale—slipped out of Petyr. His neck bent towards the ground slightly, and his attention remained on the cobblestone patterns flowing beneath him for a contemplative instant. “Indeed,” he conceded. “I have to go.”

Varys bowed his head. “Ah, very well.” He lifted his eyes to catch sight of Petyr slinking to the edge of the garden. “Perhaps we can speak again soon, Lord Baelish.”

As the shadow cast by the arch of the Red Keep fell over him, Petyr turned and offered a glib smile. “Perhaps we can, Lord Varys.”

* * *

Every man atop the Wall was struck by an unearthly coldness that night.

No matter how thick the coats around their shoulders were, the wind sliced their face and nipped any exposed skin with its frosty claws. The cold dove into their bones and seemed to chill them from the inside out.

Despite being rekindled every other minute, the light of the torches was dimmer here. The fog of the night was murkier than the bottom of a bog. The fires were short-lived, swept away into simmering embers by sudden and isolated gusts.

The same light that would have illuminated your body was extinguished by the wind. The brother in charge of relighting it swore under his breath. When he peered at you in wonderment of your apparent resistance to the frigid weather, a shiver ran through him as if he had been stuck with a frost-tipped spear.

It killed the words on his tongue.

The dark around you seemed deeper and more foreboding than any cave, unaffected by light even as the moon beamed down upon it. The brother saw the outline of you hidden in the darkness, and it was all he needed to see to decide that the remainder of his watch was someone else's responsibility for the night.

In the ensuing calm, your head surveyed one end of the forest below to the other.

No figures had crept out of the woods yet.

The clanks and grinds of the lift rising to the top of the Wall sounded from behind, and Samwell Tarly stepped off it into the snow. The soft, pearly white material was crushed under his heavy boots. After a brief pause, his footsteps approached you and stopped at your side.

Your head slowly turned, which allowed you to catch Sam peeking in your direction. He glanced downwards and released a bashful chuckle upon being caught, but a look of childish excitement soon washed over his full face. “Jon says you're a wizard!”

The snow crunched as Sam shuffled his feet, his gaze darting from his shoes to you. “I've never seen a real wizard before!” He shifted again and failed to restrain the huge grin breaking out across his lips. “Only read about them in books,” he added, somewhat lowering his voice.

Sam leaned forward and looked up and down at your iron mask and dark robes. “Do you all dress like that?” He outstretched his arms to push his cloak back and looked at his own black coat and armour. “Maybe we're more alike than I thought!” What escaped him next was a quick, “Ha!”

He turned his head back to you and kept his mouth open slightly as if expecting you to agree, but your continued silence prompted his smile to falter.

As his eyes searched the snowy darkness that lay in front of him, Sam shook his head. “My father detests wizards. Thinks magic's for nellies who don't want to fight.” There was a layer of distaste and pain to his words as though repeating his father's opinion had poisoned his tongue and caused a bad memory to churn within his mind.

“Not me,” he blurted, his head bouncing towards you before moving back again. Sam leaned over and patted his chest with both hands once. “Big fan.”

As Sam marvelled at his proximity to a real magic user, the lift descended into the bowels of Castle Black and then rose to the top of the Wall after a few minutes of rasping. The dark-haired Jon Snow emerged from the fiery light of the lift with a torch in hand.

“Sam,” was all he said, and Sam fell silent.

Jon nodded at him with a tiny smile when Sam turned and offered a happy, “Hello, Jon!” Sam stepped back to allow Jon room to walk forward and stand diagonal to him.

Although he was addressing more than one person, Jon kept his eyes focused on your mask. “If it's all right with you, I'd like to speak with Brother Black alone.”

Sam lost his smile for a moment, but it returned with a shrug of his shoulders and another shift of his feet. “Of course! Of course!” He distanced himself from where he had been standing and motioned for you to go with Jon. “I'll just be here.”

Jon bid him farewell before marching farther down the Wall, the light of the torch undulating in the icy wind.

As the orange glow started to vanish from sight, Sam looked away and faced the edge of the Wall. “I ought to be checking on Gilly.” Fond memories of the woman softened his voice and provided some warmth against the cold. “Sweet Gilly.”

No one answered but the howl of the wind.

Sam inhaled through his nose and allowed the silence to live for a couple of seconds before he sighed: “Boy, it's cold up here.”

The journey ended after roughly ten minutes of walking, and Jon turned to give you a cursory scan. In his eyes were suspicion, curiosity and more than a token of discomfort. His breath was visible in the cold, flowing upward as he turned to overlook the cliff.

“The other brothers don't feel safe around you. They need to know they can trust the man standing next to them.” A flash of uncertainty overtook him in a sweep of cold wind, and Jon turned his head to look at you as if for the first time. “You are a man, right?”

There was a carefulness to his words as though you might shed your veil of humanity and lunge at him before he took another breath, his legs shifting with a rattle of his heavy armour and his hand confirming its place on the pommel of his sword.

A gust of air wafted from the lower slit in your mask and floated into the night sky.

Holding the silence as the grey cloud dispersed into the darkness looming above the castle, Jon chose not to pursue such thoughts and gave a single nod. “Right.”

* * *

The flaps of wings preceded the caws of a raven, and the bird landed its coat of snow-dappled feathers on the stone frame of the window. It raised its left leg as if it were limp and turned its black eyes to Jon, revealing a scroll tied to its lean body.

Jon approached the raven as it continued to caw and move its head in sudden, jerky motions.

“I haven't sent for any wandering crows,” mumbled Alliser Thorne, who waved at Jon to receive the letter when he paused at his comment.

The bird twitched and hopped whilst the scroll was taken from its leg, and once the gloved hand released it, the raven flew into the white skies with a string of caws.

As Jon brushed his thumb across the reddish-pink seal, the emblem of an upside-down flayed man sent a wave of apprehension over his body. The impulsive part of him said to toss the letter into the fire and never wonder about its contents, but the impatient gaze of Alliser demanded that he push his misgivings aside.

“Well?” came the older man's disgruntled voice.

“It's the sigil of House Bolton, ser.” Jon glanced between the Lord Commander and the scroll, struggling to void all of his concerns but stepping forward with dutiful haste.

Alliser nodded his head and quirked his eyebrows as if coaching a child. “I can see that. Would you care to read it?”

Inspecting the seal one last time, Jon broke it with a snap and unfolded the parchment. “Dear the men of the Night's Watch, it has come to my attention that you recently brought a sorcerer into your ranks.”

His volume tapered after every few words as if seeking to lessen the blow of an expected threat, but as the inky texture of the crooked and misplaced lines stretched and fell before his eyes, he realised it was a continuous promise of danger:

“Their allegiance belongs to House Bolton. If you do not return them to me, I shall flay you living and make you watch as I tear your brother's still-beating heart from his chest and feed it to my hounds.”

Jon lost much of his interest in reading the message and looked askance at Alliser for the sake of averting his eyes from the letter. When the Lord Commander returned his gaze with stunned silence and a minor shift in his position, Jon proceeded to the end.

“Two fortnights it will take for me to march on your pathetic excuse for a castle, so two fortnights you shall have to act.”

Despite the reluctance plaguing his hold on the scroll as if touching it would transmit a disease, Jon took only a second to recuperate and finished with a weary drop in his tone. “Signed Ramsay Bolton, Acting Lord of the Dreadfort.”

He tucked the parchment and lowered his arms to his side, casting a pensive look over the glow of the fire before turning his eyes to the Lord Commander.

“Inane ramblings from a madman,” spat Alliser with a sharp turn of his head. The man tugged a quill out of the inkpot on his desk and slammed a piece of blank paper onto its surface.

Jon watched the quivers of his hand and the words they wrote becoming clearer as the ink dried, but the scratches of the quill marking the parchment were overshadowed by a quick step forward. “Ser, the Boltons are a ruthless people. We shouldn't take anything they say to be idle threats.”

The Lord Commander refused to look away from his writing or slow the motions of his hand. “Roose Bolton is a few steps short of a wildling in lord's clothing. As for his son, I've never met him.” He finished the letter with a flourish. “And I'd like to keep it that way.”

The thud of a seal echoed in the room before it was replaced by the creak of a chair sliding across the floor, and Jon clutched the letter that was pushed into his hand.

“Give this to Maester Aemon. Tell him to send it immediately. When it's done, have a brother ride to Mole's Town.”

As Alliser marched out the door to his chambers, Jon followed and overheard his yells to the congregation of Night's Watchmen standing below. “Increase the patrols! I want a fresh man at those gates for every hour!”

The group lifted their swords and scattered throughout the courtyard, while Jon hastened his walk to the library. Orders were shouted into the wind, and the collective rattle of armour and thump of boots faded into the background.

Jon entered the library a bit louder than he intended. The door slammed behind him when a strong wind pulled it forward, causing both he and Maester Aemon to jump.

A mumble slipped out of Maester Aemon as he ran his fingers across the Braille in the book of dragons he had been delighting in reading. The table at which he was seated was strewn with a variety of books. It stood in the centre of the room, and it was bordered by tall bookcases full of centuries of knowledge.

Stepping forward, Jon extended the scroll and approached the table. “Maester Aemon, I have an urgent scroll from the Lord Commander.”

Maester Aemon took the sealed scroll from him, running his fingertips along the seal and parchment. “Oh,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. He turned back to the books in front of him and heaved himself from the rickety chair.

As soon as he had started to drag himself forward, a chill washed down his spine as if dunked in ice water. He slowly turned his head and fixed his blind eyes on the farthest corner of the library.

There existed a deep shadow, swirling and spreading like tar. It seemed to emanate from the wall itself, and Maester Aemon took notice of whispers filling the back of his mind. They spoke in ancient tongues with otherworldly inflections that echoed in every part of the library.

His chapped lips struggled to find his brittle voice. “Who are you?”

Jon stilled and followed his gaze, but he saw nothing more than ordinary darkness. “Maester Aemon?”

A few mumbles crept out of Maester Aemon, each one disjointed and confused. He turned his head back and forth between the stone floor, the nearest bookshelf and Jon. His eyes were lost and searching for something unknown to Jon.

“Oh, never mind,” he said softly, for the whispers had ceased.

Tucked away behind a wood column, on the corner of a table set against the wall, was a rectangular coop. Tufts of hay and wheat laid on the bottom and provided the footing for the assortment of ravens scuttling inside.

Maester Aemon shambled to the coop and peeled open its small door. With both hands, he lifted a raven from the enclosure. The bird went limp in his hold, its head facing downward and its legs sticking out.

He equipped the raven with a leather cylinder on its left leg into which he inserted the scroll. Once the latch on the cylinder was pinched shut, Maester Aemon retreated to allow for the raven to take flight with a flutter of wings.

Jon watched as it glided through the short window at the base of the ceiling, and he wondered why a raven was necessary if a brother was riding to the town. His first thought was the scroll contained additional information that the brother was not privy to learn.

The answer came when he caught sight of the raven flying southeast instead of towards Mole's Town.

Before he could question the destination, Samwell Tarly burst into the library. Sam doubled over and placed a hand over his palpitating heart, breathing as a runner would after a race. “Jon!” he panted, “We're needed at the King's Tower!”

Two pairs of footsteps rushed to the walkway outside the library.

Jon collided with the guardrail and grasped the top of it, leaning forward to get a closer look at the discord unfolding in the courtyard.

Night's Watchmen streamed into the corridors overlooking the main entrance, a group of five rangers rode astride on horses, and the brassy call of a horn sounded over the din of brothers hauling weapons and scaling sentry towers.

As the rangers poured into the stables, Jon looked farther and noticed a circle of brothers marching in tandem with you to the opening doors.

* * *

The chairs of Merman's Court were cushioned with the finest silk. They complemented the long table stretching from the foyer to the throne, which lay decorated with a nautical tablecloth and various plates of pork pies, roasted eels and fried lampreys.

The food, warmed still by the steam of the fires, smelt of spice and gravy. The dead and cooked fish swam in the sauce and drank mouthfuls in a vile parody of life, a life that the oceanic paintings lining the walls and ceiling illustrated in vivid colour.

The guards who watched over the feast resembled the type of warriors one expected to see in a submarine kingdom, for the weapons clutched in their hands were tridents.

Lord Manderly sat in a velvet chair similar to his throne, which he had joked about bringing to the table more than once. The Boltons were seated opposite him, and sitting beside them were Lord Cerwyn and his son Cley.

While Roose met the eyes of each lord, Ramsay turned his gaze downwards and divvied his attention between the various items of food covering his plate. Roose glanced in his direction when Ramsay's hand found its way to the knife.

“Forgive my son's lethargy. He is weary from our travels.”

Lord Manderly drew his eyebrows to his receding hairline and stretched his lips in a royal imitation of surprise. “Is he an old man?” Lord Cerwyn joined his chuckles with bountiful enthusiasm, neither lord acknowledging how Ramsay slowly lifted his head.

Malice radiated from the young Bolton like foul breath from a dog's jaws, but, sensing the gaze of his father, he mustered a polite smile.

Roose waited for the laughter to fade into a pregnant silence before he seized control of the discussion. “Our merchants are reporting that they've been turned away from the gates of White Harbor, some at swordpoint.”

Lord Manderly tore a chunk of bread from the strudel and ate it at a comfortable speed, peering across the feast rather than at Roose. “Aye, you'll have to find somewhere else to dump your subpar goods.”

A screech resounded in the dining hall as Ramsay yanked the blade of his knife a short distance across the wood, and he looked at Lord Manderly without raising his head. “Watch your tongue.”

Lord Manderly stopped chewing and faced the young Bolton's desire to maim him with a combination of surprise and umbrage.

At the stern look of Roose, Ramsay lowered his gaze and resumed carving a furrow into the table.

Lord Cerwyn shared an unsettled glance with his son, turning his eye to Roose when Roose looked away from Ramsay and spoke with far more elegance. “The Boltons have traded with the other Northern houses for years, and I haven't had complaints from House Cerwyn or House Umber.”

The weathered face of Lord Manderly acquired a sombre quality. “Ah, Umber. I heard what happened to Gareth's fifth-born. A right tragedy, that.”

A stillness came over Ramsay, his hand pausing and his eyes refusing to look anywhere but at the plate.

There was no visible change in Roose's demeanour, but he offered no words of sympathy.

Lord Cerwyn picked his tankard off the table and turned to Lord Manderly. “One less Umber. That's a start.” The two men descended into a hearty roar of joy and bumped their cups together, while the Boltons watched in quiet amusement.

When the lords joked and drank without a care for the original discussion, Roose spoke with enough strength to regain their attention but not appear demanding. “As Warden of the North, our trade is essential to Northern commerce.”

Lord Cerwyn, who had been gulping alcohol like a direwolf gorging itself on meat, lowered his cup to the table. With an eye roll, he muttered, “Oh, great. More Bolton furs and flayed skin. Just what this city needs.”

The hiss of a blade rang in the ears of every lord when Ramsay jumped from his seat and slammed the knife through Lord Cerwyn's finger. The bone was just barely visible, peeking out of the skin's edge as blood gushed from the exposed tendon in spurts.

A howl of agony bellowed from Lord Cerwyn, and he clutched his injured hand while reeling in his chair. His legs began to kick the stone floor, distress growing louder and more wild with each surge of pain that lashed his mind and dragged shrieks from him as if his finger were aflame.

As Cley started to shiver and seemed on the verge of tears, he stood with a sharp creak of wood on rock and rushed to help his father.

The corners of Ramsay's mouth twitched in a small release of tension, his pupils dilating at the screams and his hand squeezing the utensil. He did not blink once to sever his view of the desperate eyes and paling skin of Lord Cerwyn.

It was not until he turned to his father with a jerk of his head that he allowed his enthusiasm to wither, for Roose was looking at him with the unforgiving coldness of someone who regretted his son's birth.

Smile dropping, Ramsay attempted to win back his favour. “Father—”

Roose interrupted him with a frigid scowl. “Leave.”

Ramsay faced his father's tranquil rage in momentary shock, as though the man had ordered him to leave the realm instead of the room, his fingers tapping the knife before curling about it. He glanced at various spots on the walls and the table without focusing on any.

Hatred of the glare Roose was sending him and his own failure to meet the man's wishes quickened his breaths, and the young Bolton tore the blade out of the wooden surface.

A thin crater became visible on the table next to the disembodied finger, with jagged chips of wood rising to decorate there.

Ramsay took fervent and aggressive strides to the door and shoved it open. Gales of Northern wind swept into the hall like ice water, lifting his cloak as he stormed outside.

The slam of the door behind him cut the chilling breeze like a sword to the head of a great beast, and the return of the torches' warmth redirected the spotlight to the weakening cries of Lord Cerwyn.

“My wedding finger,” groaned Lord Cerwyn, his neck drooping and his eyes fluttering. “He took my wedding finger!”

The limb sitting on the table was adorned with a gold ring that glittered under the candlelight of the chandelier. Only droplets of blood still leaked from his knuckle, dripping onto the plate and tablecloth.

Cley guided him to his feet and positioned himself under his father's left arm, while Lord Cerwyn scrambled to retrieve his finger and cradled it in his other hand.

Lord Manderly tossed his napkin onto the fresh bloodstain infecting his tablecloth and peered at the man with an irritated side-eye. “Pipe down, Medger. It's not like you were using it for much.”

Lord Cerwyn squirmed in his son's grasp, continuing to whimper and holler as he was hurried to the door. Another gust of wind followed their exit, and Roose shifted to a more comfortable position on his chair and clasped his hands together. “So, the trade routes are to be reopened?”

Lord Manderly cocked his head and seemed to repress a scoff. “The chopped-off finger of a twat won't buy our obedience. Do you expect House Manderly to cower in fear?”

Roose presented a look of callous certainty. “I know you're going to lose more than fingers if another Bolton caravan returns empty-handed.”

This sparked a burst of resentment to twist the mouth of Lord Manderly. “You'd threaten a man in his own home? Need I remind you whose wine you're drinking?”

Crumbs from a pork pie tumbled down his fat chin as he took a greedy bite of one, and Roose eyed the meat pie sitting on Lord Manderly's plate. “Need I remind you who hunted the pigs you're eating, Wyman?”

Lord Manderly stopped his chewing. There was a threatening sort of emphasis placed on his first name, like someone dangling a steak over a hungry dog. The remaining chunk of pork pie hovered in front of his mouth, untouched.

A battle of eye contact came and went between the two lords before Lord Manderly dropped the chunk on his plate.

With a subdued sigh, he looked down and pushed his fork away from his dish. “Aye, you're a tough old codger, Roose.” Roose offered a slight smile at this, and Lord Manderly reclined on his chair. “I'm only doing it 'cause of pressure from the Lannisters.”

The mask of composure slipped from Roose's face for just a moment. “I see.” His eyes widened a bit before narrowing in discontent, looking over the feast once more. “It's a shame that the crown feels such a powerful need to meddle in our friendship.”

A laugh bellowed from Lord Manderly as if he had just been informed that the Dothraki had laid down their arms and become a peace-seeking civilisation.

Roose swung his cloak over his shoulder and left his chair with his mind far away in the depths of planning, but he remembered enough pleasantries to nod at the lord. “Be seeing you.”

When the senior Bolton pushed the door open, the sight of an agitated Ramsay fiddling with the bloody silverware eliminated any satisfaction he had gained from learning a piece of the truth.

The soldiers were all standing at a considerable distance from Ramsay, their eyes darting between him and the snowy land to avoid being noticed.

At the sound of boots crunching snow, Ramsay whirled about with a shudder. “Father, I—”

He was struggling to meet Roose's gaze, but his father walked past him. “Be quiet, Ramsay. Mount your horse.”

Hoofprints littered the snow from where Lord Cerwyn and his son had fled to obtain the services of a maester, their tracks disappearing into the blizzard in the northwestern direction of Castle Cerwyn.

Roose lifted himself onto his steed with minimal difficulty and turned his attention to the frosty water of the White Knife babbling nearby rather than grant his son a second of acknowledgement. “We're going home.”

Ramsay was slow to heed this command, his eyes drifting across the snow and clenching the knife so that it would have snapped if made of anything weaker than metal.

When he curled his lips in a question of whether to speak and squinted to deflect the rays of sunshine peeking over the rolling hills, the clop of hooves leaving the entrance to New Castle broke his concentration.

Roose had spurred his horse to trot in the opposite direction, and Ramsay clambered onto a horse of his own to follow.

The journey back to the Dreadfort was far longer and more tedious than last. The path meandered over hills and winded round rivers like a serpent slithering in the grass, with the overcast sky looking bleakly at the snow-covered ground below.

When Roose dismounted and allowed his horse to be spirited away to the stables, he said nothing. He did not grant Ramsay the briefest glance or quietest mutter, nor did he wait to see him return safely and dismount his own horse.

Listening to the footsteps tailing him grow louder and more erratic, Roose relented and turned with a dreary, if not vaguely sarcastic, frown. “The fault is mine. I thought you could better control yourself.”

Ramsay stopped to look at his father in an inability to process the discomfort preventing his mind from resting, his breaths slowing to allow for clearer thinking.

“You've embarrassed our house and disgraced our family name.” Roose watched as the last shard of restraint broke within his son, and he gave no chance for an apology or protest to grace his ears. Instead, he walked down the hall until his footsteps had quieted into nothing.

Abandoned to brood, Ramsay was no longer comfortable in his skin and found himself overtaken by a restless and inflamed energy.

The guard who stood at the door to the kitchens nearly yelped when a gloved hand clutched his throat and yanked him downwards. The noise was silenced by the pressure constricting his windpipe, and it took all of his training and discipline not to attack or look away from the wild eyes glaring into his own.

“Gather the men.” The order slipped through Ramsay's clenched teeth as a whisper. “Tell them we march tonight.”

He released the guard, only to shove him a moment after the man failed to sprint out of arm's length. “Go!” Ramsay turned in the direction his father had gone as the rapid thuds of steel boots echoed against the stone floors.

* * *

A rush of cold wind burst into the Lord Commander's chambers as the door swung open. The thud of leather boots on wood marked the entry of a panting Night's Watchman, his forehead slick with a layer of snow and a hand resting on his abdomen.

“News from Mole's Town, ser.”

The focus of Alliser's squinting eyes crumpled with dismay, and the Night's Watchman stepped further into the chamber. “Three armed strangers arrived last night—” he took a breath “—together.”

Alliser let his gaze fall upon the scrolls littering his desk, searching for a reason not to assume the worst. “Were they bearing any sigils?”

Despite his limited understanding of the situation, the brother saw his commander's desperate hope and shook his head as if fearing the implications of his answer. “No, ser.”

Alliser was unsure of whether to be relieved or troubled by that fact. The possibility that the strangers were merely bandits or deserters with impeccable timing was one he clung to like a monkey to the last branch, but the paranoia creeping up his spine drove him to rise from his seat. “'Two fortnights', he said. Not forty-eight hours!”

The Night's Watchman looked between Alliser and the door, his feet shifting to the exit and his hand twitching closer to his sword.

A tense silence of unspoken orders and obscenities reigned as Alliser swerved his head back and forth across his desk. “The Boltons have shat on their promise,” he finally declared. “Not that I expected anything less.”

After a moment of deliberation, Alliser waved the brother away. “Ride to the Shadow Tower. Request an audience with Denys Mallister, and tell him we need as many men as he can spare.”

A brisk “yes, ser” flew out the Night's Watchman's mouth. A gust as cold as ice blew his cloak into the air when he opened the door once again, his boots thumping away from the chambers and then descending the stairs.

Another pair of footsteps replaced his and thundered to the door with haste. Alliser jerked his head up in preparation for scolding what he assumed to be the same brother returning in confusion.

The man who greeted him was Jon Snow, and Jon hurried to the desk while looking upon him in a frenzy of bewilderment. “You're having Brother Black escorted from the castle?”

Alliser narrowed his eyes at the name, his lips pressing together and parting into a straight line. “I am.” He gave a swift nod. “They're a fugitive from justice.” The chair squeaked as he rose and collected a scroll lying on the desk, unfolded with a broken red seal.

“Ser,” said Jon, his tone disbelieving. He looked behind himself for a brief moment and then put forward his hand. “Brother Black—”

Alliser spun towards him and yelled, “They're not a brother, Jon! They never trained! They never took the oath.” A moment of silence passed before he began again at a slightly more controlled volume, “They're a runaway scratching at our door.”

Jon took a few seconds to collect his thoughts, and when he pointed a gloved finger at the Wall, Alliser knew his words before Jon uttered them: “They've killed more wildlings in a week than most of these men have in years.”

With a heavy sigh, Alliser shook his head. “The crown issued a royal decree for their return. Would you have me branded a traitor?” He turned back to the desk with an upward swing of his hand, and his voice lowered to a frustrated mutter. “Now we have Bolton spies skittering about in the dark like rats.”

At this, Jon opened his mouth and glanced round the room. “The Bolton army can't march on Castle Black.” He stretched an arm towards the open window as if the army were marching forth at that very moment. “The lords have no jurisdiction here. It's neutral territory!”

Alliser looked over his shoulder to bob his head at Jon. “Tell that to them when they're peeling the skin off your bones.”

* * *

Far outside the Lord Commander's Tower walked a group of four Night's Watchmen, each of whom exchanged a cautious glance with the man beside him. All carried a sheathed blade on their hip as well as a torch to chase the shadows of tall trees away.

The shadow that dragged across the ground at your feet, however, did not fade, no matter how many sources of light were waved over it.

The forest ahead was devoid of singing birds and howling wolves, and the giant trees partially blocked the golden and pinkish rays of midday. Every man slowed his pace and watched the tree line, some expecting to see a Bolton sigil flying and others fearing that a bear was likely to hurl itself at the nearest man.

From behind a thicket hopped a rabbit. The appearance of the small animal elicited a hushed chuckle from the brother on your right. “That'd make a nice feed,” he whispered, nodding his head and waving his torch at it.

The brother on your left turned to him and talked without a care for his volume. “Don't bet your supper on it.”

Long ears twitching and flattening at the noise, the rabbit scurried away into the bushes.

The man who had spoken first cocked his eye at him, and the brother on your left continued: “I caught me one of them hares down in Dorne. Ate the whole thing before the guards came and said it was some lord's pet.” The brother put his hands together, then spread them apart to visualise his meal.

He shrugged as if he could still taste the hare and knew it to be worth the punishment, a slight smile forming on his lips. “Now here I am.” This sliver of a smile fell to a frown, and he shook his head. “It's too bad. I hear Dorne's nice this time of year.”

You peered beyond your shoulder to spy the wooden doors of Castle Black, which were comprised of hefty logs that reached thrice above your line of sight. Somewhere warm, you thought, was an apt place to hide from those who lived in the cold.

[itsgameofthronesimagines]

Could I request a Cersei x f reader where the reader is Cersei’s secret lover but Jaime (Love him but needed a villain) found out and made up lies about reader so Cersei herself throws the reader to jail. When she’s finally freed after the allegations were proved wrong, reader is now cold hearted, avoiding Cersei who tries to talk to her. Go heavy on the angst. You can decide if it’s happy ending (at least as happy of an ending as you can get with Cersei) or not. Thank you! You don’t have to write it if you don’t want to

(Gif not mine but can I just say that I hate myself for loving how beautiful she is?)

Title: Lioness Roar

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Cersei Lannister x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,719

Summary: Cersei’s brothers could do whatever they wanted with little to no consequences all because of their gender. Now as the Queen, Cersei believes she can do more.

Warnings: vulgar language, daddy issues (guess who), homophobia, angst, mentioned wlw smut, and I will admit it does kind of read like yandere.

Author’s Note: God I love writing about Lannisters. They’re so complex (and I know I’ve said that before so sorry if you’re sick of hearing it but I’m not sorry for saying it) and I think this might be the first time I’m writing a Cersei x reader so this was exciting!

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

~~~~~~~~~

Cersei always believed that if she were born with a cock, her world would be a lot different, but for the best.

As a child, she drew pictures of herself on the back of the dragon, and as she got older, her father kept promising to marry her to the prince, so then she began drawing Rhaegar Targaryen in those same pictures.

Before she grew into her female qualities, she was able to dress as her twin brother and attend sword fighting lessons without anyone able to tell the difference. 

While Jaime had no interest in listening to his father about the importance of their history, their finances, and the running of the keep, Cersei listened intently. She knew that if she were Tywin’s firstborn son and heir, he’d be proud of all of her accomplishments, and this was just one of many ways she tried to gain his approval. 

She did all these things to prove that she can do anything her brothers did possibly even do more than Tyrion but Lord Tywin always stamped down her ambitions other than the one that involved her getting married to the prince. No matter how hard she tried, Cersei could never get her father to actually see her aside from what she already was.

One look and Lord Tywin would’ve seen his daughter holding a sword better than Jaime ever could and reciting old text better than Tyrion could ever pronounce. If Tywin could only see past her gender, Cersei would truly be his golden child.

Alas, she was nothing but a bargaining chip; a pawn he liked to move around the board. When her marriage proposal to Rhaegar fell through and all the Targaryens were killed off, Cersei was married to Robert Baratheon and she became his Queen Consort. She gave him three children, despite the two of them being unhappy from the start. Even if her children didn’t look like the King, she didn’t care. She did her duty to the realm, to her husband, and to her father, securing the legacy Tywin always wanted for his family. Cersei did her part and now she felt inclined to her own right of freedom to do whatever she wanted.

That freedom came in the form of Lady Y/n.

As a wedding gift, Lord Tywin sent Cersei the daughter of one of his bannermen to act as her handmaid and confidant. Y/n was possibly the only truly kind gesture Cersei’s father ever made toward her, but the new Queen was bitter from the beginning. She did not confide in other women. Cersei felt as though she was above gossiping and hand-sewing, even when she was a little girl. With her father’s praise and boasting of her being the most beautiful woman in all the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei even believed she was above all the ladies of the country, including Y/n. 

Y/n was a quiet young woman. Dutiful towards her Queen and tending to her every need without question, the handmaid was smart to never speak openly to Cersei. She kept her thoughts tight-knit in her mind and only replied to the Queen if Cersei spoke directly at her. Even where Y/n was from, she heard certain rumors about Cersei and how the Lady Lannister’s best friend, Melara Hetherspoon, mysteriously fell into a well and only Cersei lived to tell the tale. Y/n’s mother was secretly concerned when Tywin Lannister sent her daughter away to tend to Cersei, knowing that the Lioness of Casterly Rock was always troubled and strangely devoid of any emotion other than anger.

Even Y/n believed this, and in fear, she never spoke a word to Cersei unless spoken to so as not to draw attention to herself. Tending to Cersei was like awaiting with anticipation for a barrel of wildfire to ignite. All it took was one tiny flame.

However, once Cersei’s children were born, it appeared as though that flame was tameable. Y/n often tended to her Queen’s children more so than the wet nurses. Many wondered if the wet nurses were just lazy, but one maid, in particular, had the bravery to whisper about the Queen being behind this, how Cersei ordered the wet nurses to do their duty to feed her children except Myrcella but to leave all other care to Lady Y/n and herself.

If this rumor was to be taken seriously, no one knew why Cersei would do such a thing unless she full-heartedly trusted her handmaid. But this was Cersei Lannister of all people, and no one, not even King Robert, was allowed to be near the princess and princes without Cersei’s presence.

And yet, Y/n could be found with all three children, alone, holding them to her chest when they cried or laughing as she chased them around in the gardens. If they weren’t with Cersei or their teachers, the royal children were likely to be found with Lady Y/n, who they lovingly nicknamed their aunt once they began to speak. Perhaps the children truly thought Y/n was part of their family and if so, Cersei had allowed it to appear that way.

The truth is Cersei grew to care for one other person besides her children and Jaime, but kept that close to her heart and locked it away, not even Y/n could reach it. At first, Cersei was disgusted with her thoughts and her feelings. There was a time in her inner turmoil when she would lash out at her handmaid even though Y/n did nothing wrong. Despite all this, Cersei blamed her for everything and was even tempted to send her away. But young Myrcella, barely able to write her own name, cried one night when Y/n was not there to tuck her into bed and told her mother how much she loved Y/n. Feeling defeated, Cersei never exiled Y/n and refused to look at the other woman for many months.

Cersei’s demons came to a head when she heard Jaime tell yet another story about Tyrion finding another whore to bed with... but instead of her usual disgust, another thought struck her. There was a time when Cersei could act like a boy all she wanted without anyone batting an eye. She could do whatever she wanted and even though she was now Queen, Cersei had yet to take full advantage of that. As long she remained married to the King and gave him children, her father could not tell her what to do and her husband cared very little about what she did as long as Cersei kept him out of it. Hearing Jaime’s story of Tyrion’s new woman, Cersei thought if her dear little brother could take any common whore to bed without scandal, why couldn’t she?

Lady Y/n was already her handmaid. It was already the perfect disguise. If Tyrion could do it and hide his lover as a servant girl, so could Cersei. If Robert could openly bring whatever woman he wanted into his bed, so could his wife.

Of course, Cersei could order Y/n to kiss her and bed her if she liked, but she was a clever woman and felt the excitement of playing the long game of convincing Y/n to love her. So as not to scare her, Cersei started off slowly, starting by subtly nodding her thanks to Y/n when she helped her dress and undress because yes, Cersei has never once thanked anyone before. When Y/n didn’t appear put off by this, Cersei slowly began to openly thank her, then slowly progressed to subtly touching her arm or moving Y/n’s hair off her shoulder. 

This slow progression is successful in many ways. Y/n doesn’t notice how much Cersei changed because Cersei had slowly done so without any red flags rising. Before Y/n could remember the story of Melara Hetherspoon, Cersei had her wrapped around her finger, practically brainwashing her handmaid into believing that she had always been a kind and loving queen towards her loyal subjects. Cersei’s patience paid off when Y/n began to openly talk to her about her hopes and dreams, even her opinions, without ever flinching of fear or repeal.

And, in a way, her patience also brought Cersei to love Y/n even more than just for lust. Listening to Y/n talk made Cersei wonder why she had suppressed the young woman from doing so in all the years she’s known her. Everything sounded exciting when Y/n spoke, her voice forcing Cersei to listen to every syllable. 

That is... until eligible suitors came searching for Y/n’s hand in marriage. When Y/n talked about her suitors, Cersei would immediately order her to speak of something else. She couldn’t bear to hear about the men trying to take her new interest away from her. She wouldn’t allow her brothers to steal a toy from her as children, why would this be any different?

It was the talk of the decade. Throughout King’s Landing, people whispered about how Lady Y/n must be cursed. Ever since her father announced opening a proposal for her, many of Y/n’s suitors have mysteriously disappeared or been found dead in their beds, sometimes even before they could meet her. Over time, several men have gone to King’s Landing in hopes of winning Y/n’s hand. None have returned to their homes and some houses were on the brink of extinction because of this curse.

It didn’t take long before men stopped asking for Y/n’s hand in marriage, and Cersei had never been happier to have her handmaid remain at her side.

By the time Jon Arryn mysteriously died, Y/n was more than just a confidant or friend. She became Cersei’s secret lover, and Cersei didn’t feel any shame or disgust the first time she kissed her. While making plans for the royal family to travel to Winterfell, Y/n shyly and breathlessly confessed her love for Cersei. Before she could escape the Queen’s chambers in her shame, Cersei roughly held Y/n’s face in her hands as she fervently kissed her. The victory going on in Cersei’s mind was all too sweet, hastily taking Y/n to her bed then and there, finally claiming her as no one but the Queen’s.

Cersei had begun to feel like a god with what she had taken as her own. With Y/n secretly under one arm and Jaime under the other, she began to believe and reminisce about the young girl she once was, a Lady Lannister who took no prisoners and always got whatever she wanted. As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei felt as though she held the world in her hands and was believed to be untouchable.

This god complex would continue to fester and grow as several events play out. While in Winterfell, Young Bran Stark mysteriously fell out of a window. When the royal family left the North, they brought Ned Stark and his two daughters with him as the new Hand of the King. When Cersei arrived back in King’s Landing, Y/n was waiting for her in her chambers with open arms and a hot bath. Cersei had never felt such power secured tightly in her fist before.

That is until it slipped ever so slightly out of her grasp and Cersei lashed out and nearly lost her mind. Under Lord Stark’s orders, his wife Catelyn took Tyrion as her prisoner and this prompted Jaime to attack the Hand of the King before escaping King’s Landing. Cersei could feel her power and influence slipping when, even as Ned Stark admitted to her accusations, Robert still refused to punish his old friend. 

Madness slipped through, for a split second, as Cersei snapped, “I took you for a king!”

“Hold your tongue.”

“He’s attacked one of my brothers and abducted the other. I should wear the armor, and you the gown.”

King Robert spun around and hit her before Cersei could say more. She proudly claimed she would wear this mark on her face like a badge of honor before swiftly leaving the room. She retreated to her chambers to lick her wounds and fester in her rage. When Y/n was summoned, she was horrified by the angry bruise on Cersei’s face and tended to it immediately. Unaware of what had happened, Y/n barely even blinked when Cersei ordered her to stay with her the whole night.

War began to brew after that and Cersei received word of Tywin and Jaime raising an army to bring back Tyrion. Sensing it was time to make her move, she had her cousin Lancel bring an armload of wine for Robert when he fled to the Kingswood to hunt. Of course, everyone knows that wine and hunting don’t mix, and when Robert returned to Cersei, his guts were spilling out of him. It wasn’t long before Joffrey was sitting on the Iron Throne after that, his mother sitting beside him.

Cersei had Ned Stark arrested and his daughters confined to the Red Keep. With her son as king, she now had all the power with no one to tell her otherwise. She still felt her self-control slip, however, when she heard of Jaime’s capture and then Tyrion returned to King’s Landing as Tywin’s Acting Hand of the King. When she heard the news of her twin brother, Cersei retreated back to her chambers and once again, kept Y/n in her bed all night long. Y/n was none the wiser, believing Cersei was only grieving her brother’s capture by taking her anger out on her lover. This anger got even worse when Myrcella was sent away to Dorne.

When Jaime returned, Cersei was still an angry woman and nothing was ever the same again. Cersei retreated from Jaime’s embrace whenever he reached out to her. At first, he thought it was because of his missing hand, but then Cersei gifted him a golden prosthetic as a replacement. When she didn’t appear disgusted by him, Jaime kept a watchful eye on his sister.

He suspected Cersei had another lover but failed to find any man entering his sister’s chambers, no matter the time of day. He did, however, always noticed Y/n freely walking around wherever she wanted. Even when Cersei was not around, Lady Y/n would enter her room and the guards standing outside wouldn’t even question her. Sometimes, Jaime even witnessed Y/n ordering the guards around as if she were speaking on the Queen’s behalf, and they listened to her. Jaime’s affronted thoughts came to a halt when one day, he noticed Y/n out in the gardens with Tommen, the young prince indulging the lady with a book he read out loud. Cersei was nowhere in sight.

Jaime was not the smartest Lannister, but he knew Cersei better than anyone, and he knew that his sister would not trust their her children with anyone unless she had complete faith in them.

He confronted his sister that night when he knew that Y/n was sent away after helping Cersei undress. With the Queen now alone, Jaime snuck in and didn’t hesitate to speak his mind, “You love her.”

Cersei froze, her back turned to him, refusing to say a word or even look back to face him. Jaime scoffs because that was enough of a confirmation for him. Cersei was never one to hold back her tongue; this would have been no exception if it wasn’t true. The emotions that began to build within Jaime were rage and disgust. He pushed a boy out of a window for Cersei. He kept their affair a secret for Cersei. He killed his cousin for Cersei. He even lost his hand when trying to get back to Cersei. How is it that he went through all that trouble the gods have cursed him with for Cersei, and she had already moved on and fallen in love with another? How could he live with this knowing that Cersei had pushed him aside for none other than a woman?

“As hateful as you are... you love her,” he seethed between his teeth, “All those years you made me believe you kept her around to keep all eyes away from us... when really you just wanted us both. You have always been a selfish woman.”

A wry smile curls over his lips, the brewing anger slowly turning malicious, “But I wonder how selfish? Or are you just too blind by love to see it?”

Cersei turned to face him, her expression sour and voice dripping with venom, “See what?”

“That she has fooled you,” Jaime lets the words spill out of his mouth like water, fluid and graceful, even he believed the deceit he spoke, “Lady Y/n’s father may be our father’s bannermen, but she is no ally to us. I intercepted a raven before my escape, one that was addressed to Robb Stark. It was sealed with your sigil but not your handwriting, so I knew it wasn’t yours. However, seldom few have access to your seal and your desk, so one could only wonder who had the means of contacting the King of the North bearing your mark?” 

Cersei stood still, eyes locked onto Jaime’s as her expression slowly twists and turns corrupt with barely restrained rage and madness in between the flicker of the candle flame. For a moment, a brief moment... Jaime thought that rage was directed at him.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n was roughly woken by a few of the Queen’s personal guards, binding her and muffling her screams with a rag. Tediously, they bring her all the way down into the dungeon before throwing her into the deepest, darkest cell. With her bonds and gag loose, Y/n finally has a moment to yell and plead, her hands gripping onto the iron bars for dear life as she begged for someone to help her.

Her pleas stop, however, when from the shadow emerges Cersei, regal as always, dressed in her usual red and gold fabrics without the help of her usual handmaid, now trapped behind bars. The moment Y/n caught the light on Cersei’s face, she knew who to place blame for her arrest.

“Why are you doing this?! I deserve an explanation!”

“You’re a traitor,” Cersei hissed even with a sly smile on her beautiful face, “You betrayed my son, your king. And worse of all, you betrayed me. Did you truly think I wouldn’t find out about your secret little messages to the King in the North? Were you praying that Jaime would never return so that he wouldn’t be able to inform me of your treachery?”

Y/n was initially shocked by these accusations before turning to defend her honor, “Surely he’s mistaken! Your brother has been away from home for far too long. His mind might be sick from being Robb Stark’s prisoner all this time. Why would you believe Ser Jaime over me?”

The question dies in her throat, her face crumbling into fearful realization as Cersei continued to stand still, as quiet as a cat while smiling down at her mouse. Y/n’s voices drop down into a whisper as she tries to hold back her own emotions, “... Unless it’s true. The rumors have all been true. You and your brother...”

Y/n’s fear slowly reverts to anger as her thoughts spill openly from her lips, “I refused to believe the whispers. I was loyal to you from the very beginning. I stuck by your side through everything and yet-- How could you?” She finally snapped, voice rising once again as her grip tightens around her bars, “I sacrificed everything for you! I gave you all I had and it still wasn’t enough, wasn’t it? I loved you... with all my heart, but not even love can cure you from this madness.”

Cersei’s eyes bore into Y/n’s own, the two women standing in the silence of the dark, cold dungeon. The Queen doesn’t acknowledge her actions for not even she knew why she quickly decided to imprison her former lover. She herself felt disgusted. Cersei had been able to round up each of King Robert’s bastard children and slaughter them for the sake of Joffrey’s legitimacy, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to have Y/n executed even though the woman was accused of betraying Joffrey. Cersei once believed she would do anything for the sake of her children, and now she felt disgusted knowing that she couldn’t even kill a woman to uphold that silent promise.

Cersei held her chin high, her voice was as cold as the day she first met Lady Y/n, “I love my brother. I will only ever love my brother. How could I ever love someone as lowly as a servant girl?”

~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t take long before Tywin noticed his daughter had a new handmaid and not one who was trusted enough to tend to Tommen when Cersei wasn’t around. Without questioning the Queen, Lord Tywin conducted an investigation and quickly discovered Y/n in the dungeons. After briefly talking to her and investigating Jaime’s accusations, Tywin was able to concur that Y/n was innocent of such treasonous actions and set her free. When Cersei heard of this, she was enraged and immediately went to her father with demands of executing her former confidant. When Tywin brought his evidence to her attention, Cersei refused to believe it, turning a blind eye and cursing her father’s name. Even in disbelief, Cersei couldn’t help but internally feel the ache and anger in her heart. Deep down, she knew Y/n had done nothing wrong, yet she listened to Jaime anyway. The last nail was wedged into her coffin when Tommen asked Cersei where his Aunt Y/n had gone. Only then could she truly admit she made a mistake.

But it was too late. With Y/n no longer being Cersei’s handmaid, the lady avoided the Queen like the plague. Y/n was no longer the woman everyone once knew to be kind and compassionate. She was cold and calculating to everyone, including Cersei, if the two women ever had a brief encounter in Joffrey’s court.

Y/n couldn’t even find it within herself to feel sympathy towards Cersei when Joffrey was murdered at his own wedding. Long after Tommen was crowned King, Y/n continued to avoid Cersei and never once shed a tear for the boy she once loved as her own. As long as one bore the face of Cersei or sported any sort of Lannister trait, Y/n avoided them at all costs and even felt disgusted if she had to share a room with them. A moment of opportunity arrived for her to be rid of this Hell when the High Sparrow became a big influence on King Tommen and his people. Cersei had the High Sparrow annointed as High Septon with the belief that he would work under her rule, and Y/n watched this unfold from a distance until finally, she made her own calculated move.

In time, Loras Tyrell, Queen Margaery, and even Cersei had been thrown into various cells of the Great Sept when none of them confessed to the sins they were accused of. Cersei had felt the cold breath of karma ghost down her neck the moment her cousin Lancel entered the room to stand beside the High Sparrow. Weeks dragged on and Cersei was miserable in her cell, hair matted and body covered in filth, tongue dry from her thirst. The cell door opened one miserable morning and Cersei curled in on herself instinctively, ready to refuse the water when offered in exchange for a confession... but the septa never said a word. Slowly, Cersei looked up from her arms and found Lady Y/n standing there instead of a septa, dressed in travelling clothes and holding a small pouch of water in hand, devoid of emotion as she looked down on the former Queen she served.

Cersei didn’t look pleased or impressed, turning her away to lean against the cold wall of her cell, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The one thing you have always strived for; craved for... You have always wanted to see me suffer.”

“I don’t know if there is anything I can say or do to convince you otherwise,” Y/n scoffed while setting down the pouch of water, “I gave my life to you, yet you still believe I betrayed you somehow in some shape or form. Even when I was proven innocent, you despised me. Why?”

Cersei blinked slowly while staring off into space, trying to swallow her spit to relieve her thirst, “You were just some lowly reminder of a time when I was unfaithful.”

“To who? King Robert? Everyone knows you despised him. That is no secret. Everyone knows that you would have done anything to hurt him. But to hurt Jaime... I think most can suspect that at this point, you would have done anything to keep him at your side. You can’t fool anyone, Your Grace. Not anymore.”

“I have fooled no one.”

“No one but me. You had me fooled the moment you kissed me,” Y/n’s voice broke, ever so slightly, cracking her mask, “You had me believe what we had was love. And yet you threw it all away the moment you decided to believe whatever you wanted to hear.”

“I didn’t want you to betray me.”

“And I never did. But you didn’t exactly care, did you? Instead of just asking me, you threw me in a cell and left me to rot. Because it was Ser Jaime’s word against mine.”

“Why are you really here?” Cersei rasped, watching her finger as she absently traced shapes into her cell wall.

Y/n composed herself, hardening her heart again and quickly blinking away the tears before they could be shed. She straightens up her vest as she confidentally spoke, “I came to say goodbye and to pray we never see each other again. What happens to you is no longer my concern. King Tommen has granted me leave from your service and is sending me home today. My only wish... my only wish is that we part with our truths laid out to one another... the way it always should have been.”

Cersei finally turns to look up at the woman standing over her, feigned smile spreading over her filthy face, “What truths, pray tell?”

“The truth is you were right, Queen Regent. I did betray you,” Y/n carefully watched as Cersei’s face twisted with several emotions before continuing, “I betrayed you to the High Sparrow. I confessed my sins to him and thus revealed yours. I told him everything, from our affair to yours and Ser Jaime’s. It wasn’t your cousin who turned you in. It was me.”

For years, Y/n has watched Cersei play the game with eager eyes and thin smiles and it wasn’t until recently did Y/n want to see the smug smile wiped from her former Queen’s pretty face. In her dreams, Y/n could imagine this and feel satisfaction bloom in her stomach, fulfilling her without food or water and lasting her till she is old in age. Now, finally succeeding in making Cersei lose at her own game, Y/n doesn’t feel that satisfaction she desired. All she could feel was guilt and shame.

Cersei’s face crumbled until it was laid bare for Y/n to read her as a childrens’ book, the Lady Lannister’s voice becoming accusatory, “So I was right. All you’ve ever wanted was to see my downfall.”

Y/n felt as though she had been slapped in the face, hating herself even as the words fell out, “No... never. Not when I loved you.”

Cersei looked back up when she heard Y/n kneeling down to her height, meeting her shining eyes as her former handmaid whispered as though she spoke a secret, “You might not see it as I do, but if I were to recall... you were the one who betrayed me first. I only returned the favor. Farewell... my lioness. I will pray for the next whore you decide to take to bed.”

The way Cersei’s face fell only made Y/n feel worse as she stood, turning to leave. The former handmaid wanted this woman to beg for her life as she once did in her own cold cell. She wanted Cersei to squeal and cry and feel her heart break as she once did, betrayed by the woman she loved. In a last ditched effort, Y/n kicked her pouch of water close to the cell door, far from Cersei if she even tried to reach it.

“No-- wait, Y/n, please-!”

Y/n hastily made her exit, slamming the cell door behind her to shut out Cersei’s pleas. As she walked down the hall, Y/n could feel a tear slip past her detection... as well as a smile of freedom.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hi I’m back on my bs again. It’s been a busy couple of weeks and now that I’m caught up on House of the Dragon and no longer working nights, I feel fueled to write again. Please support and leave a request in the ask box!

[gulnarsultan]

OMG having Yandere Rhaella for Modern Reader is enough but to Rhaegar who also became a yandere for her is a mess. I imagined how Modern Reader running for Tywin and starts crying, saying “Father, please please hide me away. Th-the prince, h-he doesn’t stop following me. Tell him I’m not here, please” and she more tears start to fall. Tywin shushing Reader and hides her behind the curtains, and when Rhaegar came, he asked “Lord Tywin, I’m sorry to interrupt but do you where Lady Y/N is?” Tywin replied “No, unfortunately I don’t know, where is she, perhaps she’s in the library.” Rhaegar “Oh, thank you for answering my question.” Rhaegar whispered “I want to take her away and make her mine.” But Tywin heard his whisper and he regrets that he asked for help to prince.

Damn, imagine Yandere Rhaella finding out that her son is interested in HER Sweet girl. Oh, she would be furious. Perhaps she’s going to leave a door open, so Rhaegar could catch his mother making out with Modern Reader, and Yandere Rhaella would notice him and will ask Reader “Who do you belong?” Modern Reader replied “Ah, my Queen, ah you’re hurting me.” Yandere Rhaella, who fucks Reader from behind, grabs her neck, getting close to her ear “That is not the answer of my question. Who do you belong?” And she bites Reader’s ear “Ah, you, a-ah I belong to you?” answered Modern Reader with tears in her eyes. “Good girl.” Says Yandere Rhaella and kisses Modern Reader on her lips, speeding up the pace. “Did you hear that, Rhaegar? She belongs to me. So I advise you to stay away from something that belongs to me.” Unfortunately Rhaegar wasn’t the only one, who caught the Queen and Modern Reader, imagine if Cersei was nearby. When she noticed Rhaegar, she wanted to talk to Rhaegar, only for her to witness he precious older sister being fucked by Yandere Rhaella.

My goodness, when I reread what I wrote, I never thought that scenario would be good (in my opinion). So anyways what do you think about it? What reactions would be for Rhaegar and Cersei to catch the “good” time of Queen and Reader? How would Tywin react to see Rhaegar being obsessed and wanting to steal Reader? I think Cersei would be disgusted by the scene, not towards Reader, but towards the Queen. Also Cersei would be worried because she noticed Reader’s bruises. Sure she saw them, but she never imagined to see all of them. So yeah how would they react? What would they feel? And what would they do, when Aerys 2 informed that Rhaegar is marring Elia Martell and tells Tywin that he will send him and Cersei and Tyrion back to Casterly Rock. (It was Yandere Rhaella’s idea)

Your script was really great. Thanks for sharing. Lannisters never get angry with the reader, even if the reader is to blame. Lannisters always take the reader's side and support them. Cersei detests the Queen. He now harbors more anger and grudge against the Targaryens. Rhaegar accepts this challenge. The poor reader will now be turned into a yandere Rhaegarin treasure. Lannisters will hate the Queen. They will look for a way to save your reader. The Lannisters feel guilty and suffer remorse. In a way, they may want the reader to be with Rhaegar in order to get rid of the Queen. The Lannisters are very worried when they hear what is to be sent. They don't want to leave the reader vulnerable. Rhaegar will find a way and marry the reader. He will go to Dragonstone, taking the reader with him. Most likely Rhaegar will set a baby trap right away.

[writingsofwesteros]

god please write to yandere/possessive tywin lannister x innocent lady reader who is already engaged to another lord so he decides to give her a baby and you know to avoid the disgrace and scandal that would be for her her parents decide to marry her to tywin (which she gets along with Cersei, Jaime and Tyrion I really love them and I want them to be happy) ❤❤❤❤ thank you I love you❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

The soft music of the feast was the only aspect you enjoyed as you settled on the high table with your betrothed. He was already drunk and conversing with another Lord you had forgotten the name of already. Your soft brown curls easily cascaded down your back as you began to play with your gold rings.

Gifts from your friends in the lion’s den. Your only comfort as you smiled prettily when you were looked at. You had thought you wouldn’t find such friends here but it was full of surprises. “Hello, dear girl.” Your eyes brightened at the sight of Cersei. A woman you had feared the first time you had met but was now your closest friend.

“You came.” You whispered and moved to step into her embrace as the proud Lioness opened her arms to you. “Of course I did.” She hummed and kept you close. Even if her father hadn’t asked for her presence; Cersei still would have come. You were such a little doe, she thought to herself.

One easily picked by her father. Cersei’s eyes found her father from across your shoulder as her fingers continued to trace through your locks. “Where are your brothers?” You couldn’t help but ask even if they weren’t the ones you wanted to see. The Lioness hid her smirk as you asked and also knew it wasn’t who you were really after.

“They are not here yet but my father is.” Cersei whispered as her hands moved to find your own and began to play with your fingers. Your head moved before you could stop it and you finally saw him. Another Lord was whispering in the lion’s ear but he only had eyes for you and Tywin had no shame.

Not that you were aware of this as you smiled so politely. “I didn’t believe he was coming.” You whispered to Cersei. “Of course, he would never miss this. You are his favourite, you know.” Cersei teased. You ducked your head with a soft giggle. Your heart begins to skip a beat as you link arms with her.

“We should go and greet him.” Cersei whispered; taking charge of the situation like only she could. “I..” You were about to whisper as you looked over your shoulder. Your betrothed hadn’t even realised you were gone. “Father.” Cersei bowed her head and you followed. Your heart skips easily.

“Oh, it seems Jamie is here.” Cersei whispered and without another word; the Lioness had stepped away and left you all alone. “Walk with me.” Tywin gently offered; knowing you never refused him and this time was no different. You gently linked arms without looking behind you like before.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Tywin hummed as he guided you down the corridor that seemingly lacked any guards. “I am now.” You whispered; blushing at your own words as you followed him without care. He opened the door to the library for you and locked it without you noticing as you walked deeper into the room.

“Not enjoying your betrothed?” Tywin whispered. His darker tone hid his intent as those eyes of his moved over you. Gods, he was lucky. “No..I do not like him.” You whispered and looked back over your shoulder. “I do not want to marry him.” You finally whimpered out. You could trust Tywin, you knew this.

“Oh?” Tywin hummed. This would be easier than he thought. He watched you shake your head and nearly groaned. “I know it is my duty.” You whispered out as he only stepped closer. “It is.” The Lion whispered and before you knew it; his hand reached for your own and played with your fingers.

“Would you like me to prepare you?” Tywin whispered into your ear. He watched in amusement as confusion washed over you. “I don’t understand.” You hummed as he stepped closer. You couldn’t help but back into the table behind you. “Shh, I’ll show you.” You watched with wide eyes as the Lion knelt.

“Tywin..” You whimpered out as your eyes slowly moved to the door. Your heart raced as he moved your heavy skirts to your waist. His head disappeared beneath them and before you knew it; his hot mouth was on you. On your soaked pussy. “Oh..no…this is wrong.” You babbled but still began to ride his mouth.

He only hummed; his hands moving to your arse and keeping you against his hot mouth. The vibrations brushing over you.

“Oh gods…I can’t” You easily cried out as his thrusts quickened. Your bare body on full display after he’d ripped the dress from you. His hands groping you with passion you didn’t think would exist with the older lion. His hard cock pushing against your soft spot again and again that had you babbling out his name.

“Shh, you want to be caught?” Tywin whispered to you. His hand moved to your face as his fingers slipped inside your hot mouth. You shook your head with soft moans as the pleasure took over you. “Good girl..” He purred and looked down. His cock wet from your wetness that echoed around the room. 

“I’m going to put a babe in you.” The lion whispered his promises and watched as your eyes widened. Your soaked walls are tightening around him. “You like that idea?” Tywin purred. His own stomach tightening as you squirted around his cock. “Fuck.” Tywin hummed and thrust deep inside you, spilling his cum.

You cried around his fingers as your whole body shook.

~

“I do apologise for bringing this to your attention.” Tywin whispered the day after to your father. “I did not know of her betrothal..she didn’t mention anything.” The lion manipulated the situation even as he painted you so badly. “She was naked and on top of me before I knew it.” The lion whispered some more.

“I believe she is with my child.” He watched your father’s face grow in anger. Tywin only smirked as he stepped away. “I will need you to marry her. You have to.” Your father was near begging now and Tywin enjoyed it too much to answer.

He eventually nodded, much to the relief of your family. “Oh father, I didn’t think you had it in you.” Jamie whispered without much malice. You would be the perfect addition to his family. They all knew it.

The old lion watched his chambers become empty. Your soft hums began to move through the room and Tywin looked over his shoulder to your sleeping form. His smirk only widened as he stepped closer. You were all his now, he thought and his hand slowly moved up your bare body until he cupped your pussy.

“What are you dreaming about?” Tywin purred as he noted how wet you were but you still continued to sleep even as his head leaned in and began to suck on your clit.

TAGLIST

@groovy-lady

@casualheartadorable

[inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800]

MY DARKEST DESIRE (joffrey baratheon x dark! reader)

Joffrey Baratheon x yandere! Reader

2 of 3

TW: mentions of death and unhealthy behaviors.

Sorry if there are wording errors, I have translated it to google because English is not my first language.

You growled in frustration in the solitude of your room. It had been nearly two months since your last talk with Loras Tyrell and the chances of a public alliance with them had disappeared. Apparently, a wily Cersei Lannister noticed your interactions thanks to a traitorous prostitute of your father's and commented on your after-meal outings to Tywin Lannister, foolishly believing it to be a point in her favor.

The idiot ended up with an engagement to marry the uninterested Loras, an anxious Margaery and the death of Ros.

You swallowed quickly when you found out how she had died.

His cold words still echo in your head.

"That happens if you despise the Baelish."

As if you hadn't seen firsthand the beautiful, tragic body of your former ally, her frozen tears and expression of eternal horror. Vaguely, you stroked one of her red locks as she was taken away to be buried in a mass grave without any ceremony or anyone to mourn her. No, that's weakness. That happens to the weak ones.

The cunning ones always win.

You walked vaguely to untie the fancy hairstyle you wore today; it was better to concentrate on something else when those useless thoughts started. Noticing the yellow blanket adorning the wall, you thought of another element of the big plan.

Joffrey Baratheon, the bastard.

Growing up at court, you were introduced to him on his fifth name day. He was a wee lad who enjoyed beating other children with lower positions to complain about, throwing pieces of cake at his sister while she cried, and killing animals like birds with broken wings and baby rabbits with twigs. You came forward and recited the words your father had taught you. Joffrey gave you a bored look as you spoke and dragged you into his playground with the other children. You knew the rules, but watching him tear out that little red-haired boy's hair was enough for you. You stood up and knocked him down with a kick, he looked at you in surprise because no one laid a hand on him until now. Obviously, that would have given serious reprisals for your father and you, however, you lied saying it was the redhead himself and that Joffrey was confused because he hit his head, you did so well that they believed you. You were relieved until your progenitor told you how the poor boy was whipped and how his family was quietly removed from the court. You felt so bad that you told him, to your surprise, he was proud and even happy, he gave you a talk to better convince people and explained what to do if something similar happened with Joffrey.

You reviewed the events of this morning. From Cersei's hurried journey with her betrothed to Highgarden, Tyrion Lannister's appointment as Hand of the King by the Lannister lion himself, and Jaime Lannister's hasty wedding to Rosemund of Lannisport, you could rarely have a peaceful time when King Joffrey was around. His mother was gone, his father also to Casterly Rock, he was often controlled by his grandfather, and his only release was to torment the maids and his uncle Tyrion who rarely let himself be seen. Margaery told you of her fear that he would do you any harm, you replied that, despite being a maid, you were thorn-proof. Your relationship with her was going quite well: Olenna asked you about Joffrey's activities in her granddaughter's absence after finally convincing her of your loyalty; both women mentioned cautiously about a possible marriage with Willas, more adult and powerful than your former betrothed, but of a boring character according to your father's words, and questioned you about the personality of the second son, Tommen.

Everything seemed to be going well, but it was not. You knew what they were plotting and that annoyed you greatly, an assassination that would shake the house of the lion and strengthen the Tyrell power over the crown. That didn't bother you because it was to your advantage, however, you didn't want to see Joffrey being finished off by the Tyrells.

You wanted to kill King Joffrey with your own hands.

You let out a groan as you found yourself almost naked on your bed. The thought of Joffrey paralyzed on the floor brought another moan and the conviction to masturbate; imagining him with an expression of fear was enough to caress your clitoris; and the thought of his tears of horror and submission was enough to touch you harder.

You closed your eyes. Your hands going to his neck with no one around to stop you, him trying to push you away with his clumsy efforts, watching his neck redden, seeing drops of blood from the pressure exerted, unspoken words dominating his lips and finally his lifeless expression.

A moan of pleasure flooded your lips. But from afar it was not enough for tonight.

After your ninth orgasm, you thought vaguely about how his presence would be wrenched from you and how it would influence Baelish destiny. No, there was nothing you could do but obey and see how he would die for the relatives of your lever. Tiredness dominated your head, tucking you in with your blankets, there was only one coherent thought: Not obeying.

You watched the Iron Throne along with the others as King Joffrey displayed his cruelty. The Tyrells were visiting some chamber of a vassal house, loathsome enough to stray away for a few hours, while you stood near your father with the nobles gathered like shivering chickens in a henhouse, and both shared the same vision, but with different goals. : he sitting comfortably as king of the seven kingdoms and you, taking Joffrey by his cloak causing him wounds by the edge of the swords and dragging him like a dog with the sole purpose of seeing him suffocate by the pressure of his own cloak.

Both thoughts were not compatible and you knew that well.

The screams of pain did not distract you, but Tommen's gaze did, the poor boy was holding back tears from the monstrosities committed by his brother. He's too innocent for Westeros, too whiny to get used to violence when he's lived with Joffrey his whole life, and not at all cunning. Too weak.

Being with the Tyrells would do him good. Even if it's just a piece of the game.

You pursed your lip. You were not a player, that place is for your beloved father, you were just a valuable piece. That was good right? He has been for years and years, for your entire life. Why change? Father can be an excellent king; he just needs the necessary push. But the order of the pushes can change, right?

"I'm done for today." The king's proud voice brought you back to reality.

“My king, please…”

Seeing how the citizens were beaten calmed you down. Everything was running its course.

"Let's go, dear daughter." Your father pushed you away with his classic paternal man role, you smiled following his ruse.

"Stop there! Your king commands you."

They turned around confused.

“Lady Baelish, I have received word that you have cured my brother, Prince Tommen, of yellow fever with your healing knowledge along with the maester.” Joffrey's annoying voice grew closer; you could feel your father's machinations in his head. "Therefore, I invite you to hang out in the king's personal dining room, if I'm feeling generous I could offer you a medicine box for your woman skills."

Feeling the perfect opportunity to make your fantasies come true, the satisfaction of knowing the answer was greater.

"My beloved daughter accepts your offer, your grace."

"Well, it's a unique opportunity, she couldn't turn it down."

The blush on your cheeks only increased as did King Joffrey's shit-eating grin.

“I will show you my gratitude for all the goodwill you have had with me all this time…, your highness.”

The sinister shine of your eyes was not noticed by anyone.

 @yandere-stan @yandere-daydreams @megsironthrone @letsasoiaftogether @missglaskin @witchthewriter @a-libra-writes  @agent-whiskeys-sweetheart @ladywinterwitch @anxiousnerdwritings

[megsironthrone]

Obsessed

When Petyr Baelish becomes unnaturally obsessed with the reader, he will stop at nothing to have her. 

So, I’ve been a lot of research into the minds of criminals for my novel and from that, this fic was born. I do not own Petyr Baelish. He belongs to George R.R.Martin. 

WARNINGS: OBSESSION! JEALOUSY! KIDNAPPING! ATTEMPTED MURDER! STALKING OF A SORT! MANIPULATION! AND ASSAULT(WHAT COULD BE CONSIDERED ABUSE) PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! Oh and it’s long. 

Pairings/Characters: Yandere!Petyr Baelish x fem!reader, Ros

Petyr glared from his window of the brothel. You were passing through once again, but that’s not why he was glaring. No, it was the person you were with. Petyr didn’t want to see you with anyone else. He wanted you to be his and his alone. He wasn’t sure when this obsession began but he knew he had to have you. You were going to be his. No matter what.

         Petyr left the window, already plotting his next move in his head. He swept passed the whores he employed and their patrons. He had one goal in mind. Outside the brothel, Petyr let his careful gaze search for his prey. He found you quickly and almost smiled. Until he saw Jory Cassel place a kiss to your cheek. The sudden surge of jealousy that coursed through Petyr was too much. He had to do something and fast. But what?

         The brothel keep knew he couldn’t attack Jory right there without provocation. That would only lead to Ned Stark having him beheaded or thrown in the dungeons. If that happened, you’d be lost to him forever, just like Catelyn. He had to play this one smart. Get Jory away from you without casting suspicions on himself. A smirk grew on his face as a plan formed in his mind. He knew just what to do; he only needed to bide his time.

         He wouldn’t have to wait long. When Ned started asking around about Robert’s bastards and Catelyn had taken Tyrion Lannister prisoner, Petyr got his chance. He would use Jaime Lannister and the gold cloaks to rid himself of Jory Cassel and take you for his own.

*time skip*

         Just as Petyr predicted, Jaime took care of Jory Cassel for him. The Stark’s guard was now dead and Petyr was free to pursue you. Except you wanted nothing to do with him. When news of Jory’s death had reached you, you shut yourself away from the world. You refused to see anyone except Ned and his daughters and Petyr was getting impatient. There was only one course of action left. He was going to take you whether you wanted to come or not.

         "Just bring her to me, Ros,“ he ordered the redhead and continued, "Bring her to me, unharmed, and you will only have the finest patrons from now on.” Ros simply nodded and went on her way. She knew better than to argue with him. He helped her rise from the whore of Winterfell to one of the most sought after companions in King’s Landing. She would always do what he said.

         Ros returned a few moments later, with you in her arms. The glare on Petyr’s face was enough to kill. “What. Happened?” he seethed. He was quickly losing control, seeing you unconscious like that. “We were set upon by a few gold cloaks, milord. They hit her hard before I could stop them.” Petyr wasted no time in taking you from Ros and carrying you to his chambers. You would rest there for now.

         "What’s so important about her?“ Ros asked, having followed Petyr. Petyr whirled on the whore and grabbed her throat. "I told you to bring her to me unharmed, Ros.” Ros tried to explain again, but Petyr let her go and shooed her away. “Out. I wish not to be disturbed for the rest of the night.” Ros didn’t have to be told twice.

         Petyr turned back to you and sat next to you on the bed. He ran his fingers over your face and through your hair. He took his time memorizing your features so that, even when he wasn’t with you, he could still see your face clearly. Not that he’d be away from you often anymore. He had you where he wanted you and that was where he would keep you from now on.

         Surprisingly, it didn’t take you long to wake up. A slight groan made Petyr put some distance between you. He didn’t want to scare you right away. Your (e/c) eyes opened slightly. “Where am I?” you whispered. Petyr cleared his throat. “You are in my establishment, my dear Y/N.” You blinked as you moved to sit up. “How did I get here?” Petyr took a moment to decide what to say. Should he make himself out to be a hero? Or should he tell you at least part of the truth of what happened? He wouldn’t get the chance to make a choice.

         "Wait. That redhead I was with. Ros? She’s one of your girls! Y-You…" you trailed off, giving Petyr a chance to take back the upper hand. “She is. I sent her to you as a friend. I heard what happened to Jory Cassel and wanted to know that you were alright.” Your eyes narrowed.

         "I don’t believe you, Lord Baelish. You never do anything for anyone unless it benefits you. You had her kidnap me!“ you cried, jumping up. It was obvious to Petyr that your head was still swimming when you swayed and plopped back down on the bed. "I assure, Y/N, that I care only for your well being,” Petyr cooed, his voice akin to honey. You glared again.          

         "I. Don’t. Believe. You,“ you said again, putting emphasis on every word, "You’re a snake, Littlefinger. You’ve always been a snake.” You stood again on steadier feet and made for the door. Petyr’s hand shot out as he grabbed your wrist. You looked at him with pure venom in your eyes. “Let me go.” You wrenched your hand out of his and tried the door. Locked.

         Petyr’s smile was predatory as you turned to face him. “You will let me out. NOW!” Petyr stalked toward you. You could only compare him to a lion stalking its prey. “You are safer here than in the Keep, Y/N. I have the means and power to protect you now that Jory cannot. Don’t you think he would want you protected?”

         Realization dawned on you. Petyr could see it in your expression. “It was you. You had him killed.” Petyr was standing right in front of you now. Your back was pressed into the locked door as tears formed in your eyes. “You monster,” you whispered. Petyr chuckled. “There are much worse than I that deserve to be called monster, Y/N. I simply wish to protect you. I couldn’t do that with Jory in the way.”

         "Let me go. Please,“ you whimpered. Petyr shushed you while reaching out to tuck a strand of (h/c) hair behind your ear. He leaned in and whispered, "You cannot leave. I won’t let you.” He could feel you shaking so he was surprised when he felt himself being pushed away. Your hand came up and slapped him across the cheek. “I demand you let me go this instant!”

         When Petyr denied you again, you flew at him. You attacked him with every ounce of strength you possessed. With every hit you demanded that he let you go. Petyr finally caught both your wrists in his hands, stilling your movements. His eyes were flashing with rage; a rage that only you had been able to bring out of him. “This is your last chance, Y/N. You will obey.” Shrieking at the top of your lungs, you brought a knee up into his stomach. He let you go and you turned tail.

         You barely made it back to the door when you felt his hand come around your throat. He pulled you away from the door and practically threw you on the bed. He stood over you, panting and enjoying the fear in your eyes. Fear made people listen. Fear made people obey. “You’re mine, Y/N. I have made it so.” You shook your head in defiance.

         "I will never be yours. This obsession of yours is sick.“ Petyr stared down at you for a moment. Didn’t you understand? Why were you being so uncooperative? But what you said next completely made him lose control. "I cannot wait to see them behead you for this. You’re mad!”

         Once more, Petyr’s hand made it way to your throat. If you wouldn’t be his, you wouldn’t be anyone’s. After a moment, however, he decided he couldn’t look at your face. He grabbed a pillow and placed it over your face. You thrashed and tried to call out for help. Petyr simple held you still. He wasn’t going to let you leave alive.

         When you had stopped fighting Petyr began to lift the pillow just as the door burst open and Petyr felt himself being dragged off of you. To his surprise, it was Ros that approached you. She leaned over you and whispered something that Petyr couldn’t hear. He was too busy fighting off the guards holding him and screaming at Ros about how she betrayed him.

         "The girl?“ one of the guards asked when Petyr quieted down. Ros shook her head. "I-I don’t know. She’s not breathing.” Another guard scooped you up in his arms and carried you out of the room, prompting Petyr to start crying out again. He continued to call out your name as he was escorted to the dungeons of the Red Keep.

         Petyr had no clue how long he was down there. Long enough to start hallucinating. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured your face. He saw you accepting him. He saw kisses and caresses. He heard your voice. He could smell your unique scent. It was intoxicating to him, but he knew it wasn’t real because he couldn’t reach out an hold you.

         "Littlefinger,“ a sharp voice cried, snapping out of his latest fantasy, "You got a visitor.” Petyr arched a brow. No one ever visited him. He looked up and, through the bars, he could see the face he’d been dying to touch. “Y/N,” he whispered as he got up to move closer. He was stopped by the chain attached to his ankle. “They’ve decided to execute you tomorrow,” you told him. There was not one bit of emotion in your voice as you said it.

         "At your behest, I imagine.“ You held your head high. "Oh, Y/N, you look so radiant. So powerful. It’s why I chose you.” You didn’t respond the way he wanted. “I merely came to tell you that I will be standing there watching when the sword comes down on your neck, Littlefinger. I will watch as they take your head and after that? I shall never think of you again. Your memory will fade from my mind and then I will think on this no more.” With that, you turned on your heel and left him alone again.

         Petyr watched you go, a smirk on his face. He would find a away to escape his fate, as he had done many times before. And when he did, he would take you again. He would take you as far from King’s Landing, from Westeros, as he could. You would be his in the end. It was only a matter of time. After, when Petyr Baelish became obsessed, he never rested until he got what he wanted.

[gulnarsultan]

I imagined something, I wanted to add something scary and dark for Yandere platonic House Lannister to worry about Modern Reader.

Since Modern Reader is in Kings Landing with lord Tywin and lady Joanna, Targaryens get attached to her. When yandere platonic Joanna wanted to call Modern Reader to spend time together, she witnessing how Queen Rhaella noticed her and a smirk appeared on Queen’s face and she asks Reader “Tell me sweet girl, would you do what I tell you?” Modern Reader gives a polite smile, answers “Yes, my Queen, I’ll do anything you order me to”. Satisfied with answer Queen Rhaella gets closer to Modern Reader whispering “Anything?”to her ear. And Joanna could see that Reader is tensed and she wanted to interfere, but Yandere Queen Rhaella sends her a warning look, hugging Reader by the her waist and gets her close enough for Modern Reader to feel the Queen’s body. The Queen continues to whisper something to Reader’s ear, meanwhile Joanna is worried, because she doesn’t know what The Queen has in mind. Then The Queen Rhaella with one hand commands Joanna to leave and as much as Joanna doesn’t want to, she obeys and leaves Modern Reader alone with the Queen. Yandere Rhaella whispered Reader, smelling her hair “Such a shame that lions got someone precious like you” and then the Queen tells Modern Reader to be quiet and before Modern Reader asks why, Yandere Rhaella licking Reader’s earlobe and biting it a little, leaving a few kisses on her neck. Modern Reader is to shocked to move, but managed to say “Please… don’t, it’s not right.” But the Queen doesn’t listen and continues to mark her.

It could’ve get far, if there wasn’t a knock on the door. When Modern Reader heard it, Yandere Rhaella covered Reader’s mouth and asks “who’s there, I’m busy right now” Joanna “Your Grace, the King wanted to see you.” Rhaella responds that she’ll get there and looks at Modern Reader holding her neck and squeeze it a little and whispered “I’m not done with you. My sweet girl” and kisses her lips and leaves.

When the Queen leaves, Joanna rushes to her chambers to see what she had done to Reader, for her horror she noticed marks and a bite on Reader’s neck. And Modern Reader looks at her mother with tears in her eyes.

Then Joanna asks Tywin to leave Kings Landing, he doesn’t understand why, but he tells he will talk to the King. Aerys 2 allows them to leave, but Modern Reader stays here. And Tywin can’t go against the King. When they get home the twins Cersei and Jaime are happy to see them only to be sad because Reader wasn’t with them.

Once Joanna is in her chambers, she starts crying because she’s unable to protect Reader. When Tywin asked her why she’s crying, Joanna can’t handle it and tells everything that happened. And tells him if they’re going to do something about it, Modern Reader won’t be safe and if Reader does something, House Lannister won’t be safe.

In other words, they can’t do anything. When the Mad King let out his frustration on Rhaella, Rhaella let out her frustration on Modern Reader with sexual activity.

Ohh, that’s dark. Imagine Yandere platonic House Lannister reactions about a scenario that I described. Imagine that after Robert’s rebellion, Robert saying “You were probably enjoying the Queen’s company” but when he sees Modern Reader’s tears, he realised that something bad happened. Despite that fight, Robert apologies for not knowing the truth and tells her, whenever she wants to speak and let out her feelings, she can go to him for a talk. Seeing Reader’s tears would definitely break Lannisters hearts.

Tywin and Joanna feel guilty for failing to protect their reader. The Lannisters are very worried about the reader. This will probably happen after the reader and Robert's quarrel. The reader's watery eyes and expression are enough to stop Robert from speaking. Robert is not an unscrupulous bastard. He will apologize to the reader. In fact, Stannis will scold his brother for this. Renly stabs him, constantly reminding him of this mistake his brother made. Lannisters will have more remorse.