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storiesforallfandoms · 2 months

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littlest lion ~ oberyn martell;game of thrones

word count: 3182

request?: no

description: after witnessing the littlest lion sibling’s abuse at the hands of her queen sister, he decides that not all lannisters are as terrible as he once thought

pairing: oberyn martell x female!reader

warnings: swearing, verbal abuse (it’s cersei so...not surprisingly), much use of y/n, a little bit of a re-write on the canon of got to say that tywin had a second wife and another child so that it makes sense for the reader to be the youngest lannister

masterlist (one, two, three)

Everyone in all of Westeros knew the Lannister siblings to be cunning and pretentious. For the most part, those assumptions were right. Cersei and Jamie were definitely both of those things - Cersei more so than her twin brother - and Tyrion’s general distaste and apathy for everything could be misinterpreted as pretentious.

But then there was their youngest half sister, (YN).

Born to Tywin and his second wife after the death of his first, (Y/N) Lannister was the complete opposite to her older siblings. She was kind and shy, which often resulted in a verbal lashing from Cersei. Tyrion was indifferent to (Y/N), but treated her nice enough. Jamie just ignored her unless he was with Cersei. Cersei despised her sister with every fiber of her being. She never wasted a breath to inform (Y/N) that she wasn’t a real Lannister, despite her being a true born to Tywin.

She tried to pretend like Cersei’s words didn’t affect her. It would only result in more taunting if she did. But (Y/N) had spent countless nights in her chambers sobbing over whatever Cersei had said to her that day. She dreamed of the day she would be able to leave her sister’s kingdom (although technically it was her son, Joffrey’s, but everyone knew Cersei was the true leader), but it felt like that day would never come. (Y/N) was well into her adulthood with no prospects of getting married. It didn’t help that Tywin hadn’t arranged a suitor for her in her younger years, and now that Joffrey was king the task fell to him and Cersei, but Cersei would not approve of any suitors for her sister.

“She needs someone to bully,” Tyrion had told (Y/N) once. “The only way you will ever marry is if you manage to find someone who will take you away.”

(Y/N) hoped that Joffrey’s marriage would bring Cersei enough joy that she would not think to be cruel to her. (Y/N) made herself unseen to Cersei as much as possible while the wedding was happening, unless she was called upon.

Unfortunately for her, Cersei still found reason to call upon her.

(Y/N) entered the throne room where Cersei was speaking with Joffrey. She curtsied, waiting for the two to notice her. She was sure Cersei was intentionally keeping Joffrey’s attention when her legs began to shake, threatening to collapse from under her.

“You may rise, aunt,” Joffrey finally said.

(Y/N) stood straight. “Your grace, you summoned me?”

“Upon my mother’s request,” Joffrey confirmed. “She wishes to speak with you in regards to my wedding day.”

(Y/N) tried to keep her expression neutral as she turned to Cersei. “What can I do for you, sister?”

“Don’t call me that,” Cersei hissed.

“I apologize, my lady.”

“I called you here to ask what you intend to wear to the king’s wedding.”

(Y/N) blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Have you become hard of hearing? What do you intend to wear to your king’s wedding?” She enunciated each word as if (Y/N) were a child. Joffrey was smirking from his throne. He reveled in his mother’s cruelty just as he reveled in his own.

“I...I suppose a gown from my wardrobe,” (Y/N) said.

Cersei scoffed. “Please, your wardrobe is so common. It would be humiliating for you to show up like that.”

A lump began to form in (Y/N)’s throat, but she tried to swallow it down. “I have no other options, though, and the wedding is in a matter of days.”

“I’ll have to get my seamstress to work on a more appropriate gown for you then,” Cersei sighed.

(Y/N) felt a heavy pit in her stomach. It was starting to make sense why Cersei had called her here. It wasn’t truly to figure out suitable wear for the wedding. It was so Cersei could once again humiliate (Y/N). She had no doubts that her sister would have her seamstress make the most hideous dress for (Y/N) to wear to the wedding. It would be an embarrassment for (Y/N), and it would mean it would be less likely for any potential suitors to show interest in her.

Tears were welling in her eyes. She was trying to fight them back, but it was a losing battle. “May I be excused, your grace?”

Joffrey glanced at his mother. She sighed and turned away, so he waved (Y/N) off. As she began to leave, she heard Cersei tell her son, “What a pathetic woman.”

(Y/N) all but ran from the throne room. She hurried out the doors of the castle into the palace’s garden as her tears finally began to fall. Her body was wracked with sobs as she fell onto the nearest bench. She felt so struck and so helpless. She would never get out of Cersei’s clutches as long as she lived, and there was no one in the world who could save her.

“I wonder what it is that causes a lion to cry.”

(Y/N) jumped at the sound of a voice. She looked up to see a handsome man in a yellow robe stood in front of her.

“Apologies,” she said, quickly wiping the tears from her face. “I was no aware that there was anyone else here.”

“No need for apologies. This is your home, you are allowed to cry anywhere you wish.” He sat next to her, looking at her as if studying her. “But the question still stands: what makes a lion cry?”

“You know who I am.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyways, “Everyone in all of Westeros knows who the Lannisters are. Even if I didn’t, your golden hair would have been a clue.”

(Y/N) had to break their eye contact because this handsome man was intimidating her. Not in a bad way. His looks were just making her feel tongue tied.

“It was nothing,” she said. “I apologize for disturbing your peace.”

“The little lion is surprising,” he commented. “She cries, she apologies. Very un-Lannister.”

“I am no Lannister. At least, not to my own siblings.”

A look of realization passed his face. “I believe I am starting to understand.”

Tears were forming in her eyes again. She couldn’t cry in front of this stranger. Not again. It was bad enough that he had already caught her once. Cersei would have her head if she found out that (Y/N) was making the family name seem weak.

“Would you like to go for a walk, little lion?” he asked.

His voice was quiet and soothing. If she didn’t know any better, (Y/N) would’ve thought he was mocking her. But one look told her he was being genuine. A walk through the garden definitely sounded like a good idea.

He offered her his arm and she took it. As they stood, he told her, “My name is Oberyn Martell, brother of Doran Martell.”

“The Prince of Doran,” (Y/N) said.

Oberyn smiled. “You know of my family too, then.”

“One must know all the families of Westeros, as not to let down their guard,” (Y/N) recited. “Or to not make a fool.”

She could see Oberyn look at her, but she wouldn't dare look back at him. Instead, she changed the subject, “You must be here for my nephew’s wedding.”

“I am. My brother was invited, but he was very busy, so I am taking his lace.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay then.”

“I am already enjoying it.”

(Y/N) smiled, her face burning from the compliment.

She showed Oberyn around the garden, the two of them trading stories and getting to know each other. For a brief moment, (Y/N) was able to forget about everything. It was a brief moment of happiness and feeling like she was actually wanted.

They came to stand at a perch that overlooked the kingdom. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden he over everything. (Y/N) was acutely aware of Oberyn’s hand brushing against her own, but was trying not to focus too much on it. Oberyn’s presence was starting to make her feel dizzy, but not in a bad way. It was an intoxicating feeling. She never wanted it to end, but at the same time she was worried about making a fool of herself in front of him.

“This visit has already brought many surprises for me,” Oberyn said.

“How so?” (Y/N) asked.

“For one, I have found that not all Lannisters are as terrible as their reputation would have it. And two, I am finding myself enjoying time with a Lannister.”

He lifted her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. She drew in a shakey breath at the action. Oberyn’s deep brown eyes were watching her again. She hoped her legs would not give out from underneath her as she felt them growing weak.

“I have been enjoying my time with you as well, my Lord,” she said.

“Please, call me Oberyn. I am but a second son, not a Lord. Besides, I do not intend for these formalities between us to last long.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You are ambitious.”

“I am a man who knows what he wants, and it is seldom that I do not get what it is that I want.”

Her heart was beating so fast she thought she may pass out, or that Oberyn may hear it. She had never had a man tell her that he wanted her, and she realized she had never wanted someone so much either. In just a short period of time, Oberyn had managed to completely steal her heart. There was nothing in the world that could ruin this moment, or this connection.

What she didn’t realize was that her sister was watching the two of them from inside the castle.

~~~~~~

The sun was nearly completely set when Oberyn and (Y/N) finally parted ways. He had kissed her hand once more and told her he would come looking for her the next day. (Y/N) was so lightheaded that she practically floated back to her room. She was just about to enter her chambers when a voice asked, “Did you have a good evening with the Dornish prince?”

She turned quickly to see Cersei stood at the end of the long hall. Suddenly, everything came crashing back down to Earth around her.

“He is very lovely,” she responded. “I apologize that he kept me for so long. I did not intend to miss out on dinner.”

“It was lovely without you.”

(Y/N) winced. She put her hand back on her door, intending to escape into her room and hopefully salvage whatever good feelings she could from her time with Oberyn.

“I know you are not wise, (Y/N), but I truly hope you are not stupid enough to fall for Oberyn Martell.”

(Y/N) looked at her sister in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that he is not a man who settles for one woman. Everyone knows that he will fuck anything that walks - man or woman. He was already visiting the brothel here before his arrival.”

Her breathing began to increase. “I...I didn’t...”

“Oh my word,” Cersei breathed. “You have fallen for him, haven’t you?”

The tears were forming again. (Y/N) quickly blinked them away so that Cersei wouldn’t see. “He was treated me as if I was an actual person. That is more than I can say for anyone in this castle. I apologize if it makes me stupid because I was happy to feel wanted for once in my life.”

“He only made you feel that way so he could take your maidenhood,” Cersei retorted. “He will not make you a wife, he will make you a whore. And then he will return to Dorne while you are here, weeping over his departure even though you were the fool who fell for him. It will be left to me to pick up the pieces he left behind.”

Cersei was shaking her head as she turned to leave. (Y/N) was hoping that she could finally escape her sister’s cruelty for the night, but then Cersei paused to add, “I mean, really, (Y/N). Why would a prince of all people want to marry someone like you? The last born child, from a second marriage, who has not been wed by the time she reached her maturing age? You are pathetic.”

(Y/N) didn’t wait for Cersei to leave. She shoved into her room and slammed the door shut. Her tears began to fall before the door was fully closed. She didn’t even have the strength to make it to her bed this time. She collapsed into a heap against the door, burying her head in her skirts as she began to sob.

How could she be such a fool? How could she let herself believe that she had finally found someone who wanted her? That she might just escape from Cersei once and for all? What Cersei had said may have been cruel, but (Y/N) knew there must be some truth behind the words. There was nothing remarkable about (Y/N) that would draw in the attention of someone like Oberyn, unless he just wanted to try and get into her bed. He saw her at her weakest and he preyed on that, the same way that Cersei always had.

“Stupid,” (Y/N) whispered to herself through her tears. “You are stupid.”

A knock came at the door.

“Go away!” (Y/N) called through her tears. She wasn’t in the mood for anyone to see her like this, or to have to be humiliated further.

“It is me, little lion.”

She paused. How had he found her room? Why had he come for her? Surely he wasn’t about to try to get into her bed already.

Against her better judgement, she stood and opened the door. When he saw her tearstained face, Oberyn’s expression filled with sadness. He reached for her, and she allowed him to pull her into his embrace.

“I am so sorry you are treated this way,” he said.

“Did you hear?” she asked.

He nodded. “I will admit, I followed you once we had separated. I wanted to see if you would be intercepted by either of your siblings before you reached your room. I saw the Queen Regent approaching, so I kept a distance to hear what she would say to you.”

“Then you heard what she told me about you.”

(Y/N) pulled away from Oberyn. She knew she shouldn’t listen to anything Cersei said, but she couldn’t help that her sister’s words had once against gotten to her.

“I did,” Oberyn confirmed.

“And is it true?”

“It is true that I went to a brothel before I arrived at the castle. It is true that I enjoy intimacy from anyone who is willing to give it to me, regardless of gender. But it is not true that I was only kind to you to try and take your maidenhood. What I said in the garden, I meant it.”

“Why?” (Y/N) asked. “Why would you want me? Out of all the beautiful women that I am sure you have seen, both noble and not, why is it me that you desire for?”

He cupped her face. He wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs as he looked down at her. “Because I believe you to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

(Y/N) scoffed, but Oberyn said, “It is true. From the moment I saw you in the garden, weeping over what I am sure was another verbal lashing from your sister, I was taken by your beauty. You are a beautiful woman, both inside and out. I am completely taken by you, (Y/N), and it upsets me greatly that you are made to think that you do not deserve that kind of love.”

She wanted to be happy by what Oberyn was saying. She did believe him. She could see the sincerity in his eyes. But knowing that Oberyn was taken by her that much just made her heart ache more, because she knew that they would never be allowed to be together.

“Cersei will never approve,” she said. “She will not let me marry and escape this place. If you show any interest in me, or voice that you want me to be your wife, she will deny it.”

“Then I will take you away from here.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

Oberyn looked over his shoulder to be sure no one was around. (Y/N) stepped back into her room and motioned for him to follow. She closed her door, giving them some privacy to speak freely.

“She cannot stop me if I take you before she realizes you are gone,” he said. “We can leave after the king’s wedding and return to Dorne immediately. She cannot stop you once you’ve already gone, and if she tries then you will have an army of Dornish men waiting to defend you. Myself included.”

“How will we get my things out of here before she can stop us?” (Y/N) asked, glancing around her room.

“Pack what is essential,” Oberyn told her. “Just one bag of essential things. Whatever you cannot fit I will replace once we return to Dorne. We can put it in my carriage before the wedding, and once it all ends we will leave immediately. I did not intend to stay long after the ceremony anyways, so it will not seem suspicious if I take my leave so quickly.”

Tyrion’s words were playing in (Y/N)’s head. “The only way you will ever marry is if you manage to find someone who will take you away.” She had thought for so long that it was an unreachable desire to find someone who would want to take her away. She almost wanted to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming.

“You would really do that for me?” she asked.

“Of course I would, my little lion,” he said. “You do not deserve the life that you are living here. Even if you do not want me, I will still take you away and let you live a happier life.”

“I want you,” she whispered, almost worried that saying it out loud would make everything fall apart.

But Oberyn heard her, and he smiled. “When we are in Dorne, I will court you as I should, then I will make you my wife.”

(Y/N) couldn’t find the words to say how much she wanted that. She just smiled, then leaned into Oberyn’s embrace. She mentally counted the days until she could be free from her prison, but then decided not to think of how long till it would happen. Instead, she focused on what she was going to have after she had finally gotten out of there.

Oberyn.

#Oberyn Martell #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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rax-writes · 8 months

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↬ the morning after

Tywin Lannister x Reader

Notes: Reader is a Stark but no physical description is mentioned. Based on an idea that came to me, as a result of the Tywin brainrot I've been experiencing.

The suggestion of your marriage to Tywin Lannister had come as quite a shock to the entire Stark family.

Lord Eddard had sputtered out a weak argument, too stunned to form a compelling rebuttal on the spot, but King Robert had waved his hand and said, "Look, I know he's old, but he needs more heirs. Jamie swore an oath, and he won't let Casterly Rock go to Tyrion. There's two dozen lords who are either closer to her in age, or more good-looking, but politically, is there any better option for your daughter than Tywin fucking Lannister? He's Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock, and the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms. She’d be wealthy, protected, and living in the Keep with you and your other daughters."

King Robert had then assured you that you were allowed to reject the proposal if you wished. However, he was not wrong about it being a good match, so you consented to the union. You heard whispers of Tywin being furious with the King for suggesting he take a second wife, but once again, no one could deny that the King was right – Tywin needed more heirs.

So, given your stipulation that you marry in the Godswood, in addition to a small ceremony in the Sept of Baelor, you found yourself wedded to the infamous Tywin Lannister within a few days.

It scared the shit out of you.

And your family.

Even more so when you did not join everyone for breakfast the morning after your wedding.

Tywin had refused a bedding ceremony, so no one had a clue what went on after you and your new lord husband left the feast. But seeing Tywin approach the breakfast table alone the next morning sent a chill down the spines of Lord Eddard, Jon, Robb, and even Theon.

Discreetly, Ned grabbed Robb by the upper arm before the boy could leave the table, and told him to go check on you. Robb nodded, having been planning to anyway, and found that he was quickly followed by Jon and Theon – the latter disguising his worry as a curiosity to know whether "the old fuck could still get it up or not."

All three of the young men braced themselves for a gruesome, heart-wrenching sight as they opened the door to Tywin's chambers after you granted them entry – only to find you sitting cross-legged on the bed, smiling at them.

"Good morning, boys."

"Um… good morning," Robb said hesitantly, confused but pleasantly surprised at the state of you.

"I suspected some concern over my absence at breakfast, but I didn't anticipate a search party," you jested, laughing lightly.

Both Robb and Jon merely stared at you, taking in the sight of your messy hair and the three round, rosy bruises on your neck and collarbone, mentally assessing you for any cause for concern. Ultimately, they found nothing, but feared that you were merely putting on a brave face for them.

"Alright, let's cut the shit," Theon announced, shoving past his companions and leaning against the bedpost, arms crossed and grinning at you. "How was it? Did he force himself on you? Can the old man still get it up? Did he have a nap halfway through the act?"

The way he tried to cover up his worried questioning with jokes did not go unnoticed, but you chose to not comment on it.

"It was, uh…. Well, it was fine, let's leave it at that," you replied with a small chuckle, trying to ignore the fact that your face grew red.

"Absolutely fucking not," Theon protested, looking even more intrigued now. "You didn't even answer a single one of my questions. I'll die of curiosity if I don't get some details."

"Look, we don't need… details. We just want to make sure he didn't force himself on you, and that you're alright," Robb explained, and Jon nodded.

"He did not force himself on me. He was a gentleman about it," you assured your brothers. They both breathed sighs of relief, and their shoulders visibly relaxed.

However, before they could relax fully, you turned to Theon and briskly whispered, "I came four times."

"You what?" Jon shrieked, eyes wide and mouth agape, as Robb let out an exaggerated gag beside him. Theon doubled over in a fit of laughter, having to hold the bedpost to keep himself upright.

"You've got to be fucking joking," Theon managed to wheeze, still laughing.

"Definitely not. Now, all of you run along so I can get dressed," you said, standing to shoo your retching brothers and hysterical friend out of the room, closing the door behind them with a laugh.

sequel ↠ when night falls

#super brief and not really tywin-focused #but i wrote it so i figured i may as well post it lol #tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #game of thrones #got #tywin lannister fan fiction #tywin lannister fanfiction #tywin lannister fic #tywin lannister fanfic #tywin lannister fan fic #tywin lannister x stark!reader #my writing

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writingsofwesteros · 2 years

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Masterlist of works

WEEKLY ASK MENU MODERN AU

Daemon Targaryen

Meeting Caraxes -- Meeting Baby -- He Knew Unwanted Attention Exhaustion -- Part 2 A Maiden Winter’s Love * Danger in the Night * A Father’s Protection Love to a slave * The Morning After Songbird Belonging I Dream of You Another Heir The Stranger Part 2 Ignored Hurt Sister Jealousy A Problem The Dressmaker * -- Part 2 A state of Undress -- Part 2 Protective A rewrite I’m here Changes Part 2 Part 3 A new Dawn Savior A Tragedy Legacy Safety Proposal Declined and Made Accusations Secrets Playing Games Passion & Desire His Riding a dragon Long lost daughter Finally, a girl The Other Sister The Secret Daughter Adopted Obsessive Love found in such places Returning The Martell Girl CEO Taboo Nature -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 A Vale’s Secret -- Part 2

Witch!Cousin Series Masterlist

Secret Lovers - Cousin!Reader Part One

The Second Daughter Part One Part Two

All the Sons Masterlist AU - all the daughters

Childhood Friend The Proposal

The New Heirs Chapter One Chapter Two

Claiming What’s His Chapter One

His Rose. His Mistress Masterlist

A Stag’s Love Chapter One The First Meeting

His Sister & His Mistress Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

The Spare Chapter One Chapter Two

The Hand’s Sister Chapter One

The Handmaiden Chapter One

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

First times Learning Pleasure

The Maid The meeting

The Other Hightower Masterlist

Viserys Targaryen x Reader

The Marriage Part 2 The Labour Arguments ------------------ Seduction Part 2 Part 3 ------------------ The Mistress Sweet Sister -- Part 2 -- Part 3

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Moments in obsession The Wedding Night The Reunion (Part 2) ~~ Dreams -- Part 2 Obsessed Secret Daughter’s secret love Chess Player -- Part 2 MILF Stopping the fight A Dragon’s Rose Protective All his Another way to rule A lifetime has passed His Eye Our Green Girl -- Part 2 Alternative His Brother’s Girl

Twin Flame

The Baratheon Girl Masterlist

Aegon Targaryen x Reader

The Maid Obsessed Pure Love -- Before King -- After King Threesome with Aemond Gained a Wife Royal Mistress Innocence Mommy Kink Older & Wiser? -- Part 2 His mother’s Maid His Brother’s Girl A willing seduced King Lemon Cakes So Wrong

Heleana Targaryen

Showing her what she is missing -- Part 2

Tywin Lannister

Breeding Kink Afterwards The One That Got Away Twin Flames Making Up Protecting You Will Be Mine -- Part 2 -- Part 3

Cregan Stark

A Dragon in Winter *

Criston Cole x Reader

Happier Endings Lies

Always second choice Masterlist

Harwin Strong x Reader

As pretty as a flower Labour Watching Protector A Daughter Comfort Rumours Mine Now

Larys Strong x Reader

Insecurities The Truth Obsessive Part 2 Web of lies -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5 (au?) -- Part 6 -- Part 7 His Strong Wife

Otto Hightower x Reader

The Wedding Crush Backup Plan HIS -- Part 2 Overstimulation A Maiden Pleasure overflowing Too Much

Alicent Hightower x Reader

Moments Pleasure in the water

Corlys Velaryon x Reader

A New Wife -- Labour

Robert Baratheon x Reader

New Wife.New Heirs -- Part 2

Front Pages for AU’s

Tragic Love Rise of Dragons

KINKTOBER

Works

Story snaps - Works Monthly Themes Kink Meme - 1K Drabbles

Masterlist Part 2

#daemon targaryen x reader #tywin lannister x reader #masterlist #Rhaenyra x reader #cregan stark x reader #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra #robert baratheon x reader #corlys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader

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thebadboyfanclub · 11 months

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The Lover Of The Seven Kingdoms (Tywin x Reader)

First of all, I’m sorry but you cannot tell me anything when it comes to Tom hiddleston being the perfect young Tywin Lannister. Second, I love writing morally grey female characters and I wrote grant maester pycelle and mushroom in cause I wanted to show how a lot of male historians portray women in one way cause it’s just easier.

The lover of the seven Kingdoms” grant maester Pycelle had used as a description of (y/n) Martell, the second wife of Tywin Lannister, the symbol of femininity for a plethora of men in kings Landing, the mother of lord Ezra Lannister and lady Asena, the scandalous twins and one of the few bastards that later became legitimate and inherited Lannisport, then they had three more, lady Nymeria, Lady Zara and Lord Sorin, (y/n) was the secret passion of Tywin since she stepped foot at court, she was to be Joanna’s lady in waiting.

Her appearance was one carved by the Gods, long dark raven hair that curled down to her waist, olive skin, and almost black eyes, her lips thick, and a body as juicy as the fruits of her land, her twin brother Dorian had sent her to Kings landing as a way to show respect and also expand her horizons.

“Princess (Y/n) had relations with one of the bastards of house Dayne when she denied him the man gutted himself in front of her, Doran sends her away to avoid more scandals caused by her lustful appetite”

Mushroom note, Joanna liked her, she was smart and endearing, and she knew how to play her part, however, what Joanna had not taken in mind is that (y/n) stopped at nothing to get what she wants, in this case, it was the young Tywin Lannister, the tall man with muscles everywhere, blue eyes and blonde hair was the subject of desire for a plethora of ladies, none of them had the guts to go after him, (y/n) was not like them, she had her eyes set and the game had begun.

“My lord”

(Y/n) called for Tywin, the hour was quite late but Tywin was the hand of the king, the hour did not matter when they were things he needed to pay attention to, papers to be signed and payments to be settled.

(Y/n) had studied his schedule, Joanna was already in bed and Tywin was free, most of the servants were dismissed so they were no prowling eyes to catch her.

Tywin halted and turned to look at the girl that called for him, she wore a rather sheer dress which was unlikely of hers, Dornish people were always costumed to very light choices in clothing, still, this was a step further, if the candles burned a bit brighter Tywin would have been able to see… well everything.

“Princess (y/n), is there something wrong?”

“No, not exactly, I was hoping to talk to you, in private”

Tywin hesitated, (y/n) was just outside her chamber, she was holding the door open which meant that her choice of privacy was her room, still, curiosity about what it could be that needed to be discussed in such a secretive way was enough for his feet to go one and then the other inside.

(Y/n) closed the door before she spun to rest her back on the wood, a smirk playing on her lips as her plan was going smoother than she expected, the room was decorated in cherry red and gold colors, some orange as well and the intense smell of vanilla and musk took over Tywins senses.

“So, I would prefer it if you started talking”

“Do you like being the hand of the king?”

“You summoned me to ask me if you like my occupation?”

“No, I summoned you because I have a pair of eyes, eyes clear enough to see that something has been bothering you”

“Well I am flattered that the princess cares to ask for my well-being, however, I must go”

“You can’t lie to me Tywin, if it’s not your duty then it has something to do with me, you have been avoiding me, you can’t even look me in the eye”

Tywin once again chose to not speak he only made a b line for the door to which (y/n) was resting, she had managed to think of everything down to reaching for the handle when he did, making their hands touch, Tywin did not pull his away, he let it rest on top of hers as he towered over her and she looked up at him with doe eyes.

“Is it me, my lord? It is my presence that is bothering you?”

“No”

“No? You are breathing quite heavily, your eyes travel below my lips, and… dare I say you could have moved me if you truly wanted to, no one is here, my lord, you can confess to me”

“(Y/n)-“

“Go on, confess”

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she gawked at Tywin with lustful eyes with a hint of innocence, she had done this before, Tywin was a mere puppet, a bug that got caught in the spiders' web and was now waiting to experience her poisonous bite.

Her kiss could be described as venom, it made his entire body feel like it was burning and her touch was the only remedy, his addiction started and ended with her, he had been fantasizing about her every night, haunting him like a succubus and stealing the life out of him, at an instant he forgot everything, his wife, his status, his entire life would crumble if someone were to find them, none of it mattered, all that he cared about was to see her, take her.

He took her right on her window, some servants had even reported that they could see the young princess bareback as her moans grew some attention, alas none of them thought something of it, most of the castle had seen a generous amount of men go in and out of (y/n)s chamber at all hours of the night.

Tywin was in utter awe with (y/n), he almost felt like he would faint as he reached his high, it was the only time Tywin considered that (y/n) was a practitioner of dark magic. No other woman had held such power over him in this act.

“My lion”

She had whispered in his ear before she kissed him,(Y/n) was the perfect lover, every night he would slip from his chamber and knock on her door, she would be waiting for him, take him up to the sky, and wrap him with her fire that burned as bright as dragon fire.

Tywin was entirely himself around her, she allowed him to be in control and gave him the euphoric theatrics of prowling on her, which made (y/n) giggle a little, it was refreshing and borderline hilarious to move the strings in the background while Tywin thought he was moving them only because she let him touch them.

“I have exciting news”

“Which is?”

“Princess (y/n) is pregnant, how lovely would it be if we get to marry our children? We could secure Dorne and bind my friendship with her”

“We will do no such thing”

“Tywin, think about it if we-“

“You are forgetting an important thing Joanna, the princess is not married, who knows who the father of that bastard is, my child will not marry anyone of such low status”

What else could he have said? We can’t marry them cause they are siblings? Joanna would be crushed, Tywin had run to her chamber that night, not even bothering to knock as he burst into the room startling her, still once she laid her eyes on him she smiled, she dared to smile as if nothing has happened.

“How dare you announce your pregnancy without even telling me first”

“I thought you had noticed”

“No, I hadn’t and Joanna wants to marry your child with one of our children”

“I am sure we will find a way around it”

“Find a way around it? How are you so calm when the world is crumbling on your feet? You are not married nor betrothed, this child will be declared a bastard”

“This child will be my firstborn, a child created by you and me if you remember, that is all that matters to me”

“Not to the rest of the realm”

“I do not care about the rest of the realm Tywin, that is your problem, it will be royalty in Dorne, I do not care what they call my child here”

“Some said she bathed in goats blood every full moon, she would burn candles and speak in foreign languages to make Tywin stay by her side”

Mushroom claimed, it could be true or just whispers since no one understood the powerful hold that she had on the young lord, Tywin was a fearsome man, calculated and ambitious, yet (y/n) could sway him in any direction she wished with a bat of an eyelash.

It was such a peculiar moment, (y/n) gave birth to twins four moons after her lady Joanna, Ezra and Asena, both of them had their fathers' eyes, sapphires that shined in the light of the sun as (y/n) fed them from her breasts, Tywin had held Asena first, she looked nothing like Cersei still something in him knew that the two girls were born to be each others nemesis, fate had played him like a fiddle.

“I was thinking of going back to Dorne”

“Why?”

“My brother said it is not safe for us, people will talk and I do not want my children to grow up in a venomous environment”

“No, no you will stay, Ezra and Asena Hill has a nice ring to it”

“They are Martells, my love, they shall be called that”

(Y/n) was not ashamed of her children, on the contrary, she adored them and kept them by her side at all times, she taught them how to walk, talk, sing, and dance, a endearing mother with a backbone made of Valyrian steel, a combination made straight out of the seven rings of hell.

“Push, my lady”

“I can’t, (y/n) please make it stop”

“Maester, what is taking so long?”

“The babe has breached, it will not let me pull it out”

“It hurts (y/n)”

“I know, my lady, just one more push”

Joanna fought tooth and nail to survive, unfortunately, her labor did not harvest any fruit for her, the son survived but Lady Joanna did not even get to hold him, grant Maester pycelle held Tyrion and presented him to lord Tywin who was utterly disgusted by the ugly creature.

“That is no son of mine, throw him in the river”

“You will do no such thing”

“This matter does not concern you, princess”

“It does, you may be excused maester”

Pycelle only nodded and left them alone, a strange aura surrounded both of them, Joanna was gone, a deformed babe had taken her life, and (y/n)s belly was ready to pop any minute, what was to be done now?

“Does cruelty excite you?”

“Cersei and Jaime are both healthy and Lannister featured, that… thing could not have been created by me”

“It was not the babes' fault, so I have to remind you that you are also guilty of the thing you are accusing a dead woman of?”

Tywin was a man but that meant little to nothing, if Tyrion was a bastard then there was no difference between him and (y/n)s children, Tywin was in no place to frown upon such an act since he was having another child on the way, a bastard.

“Listen to me, my love, I know you loved Joanna and I loved her too, but the babe survived, it’s the last thing we have from her, grief is a strong emotion, but we have each other to lean on, don’t you want this for us Tywin? for me?”

There it was, her secret weapon, that sweet voice that dripped of honey and the big doe eyes, she knew how to play the damsel in distress down to every detail, Tywin put his lips in before he shook his head in defeat, his wife had departed but his mistress stood before him, demanding a place at his table and life, which he was willing to give her.

Cersei was frantic, the announcement of her father's betrothal to the princess (y/n) and the reaffirmation of her bastard children had brought her to an utmost stage of rage that she was going around her room like a hurricane, she was throwing things and cursing as loud as her lungs allowed it.

How could he do this to her? To her family? That woman had slithered her way into their life like a snake and was now feasting over her mother's dead body, this was just plain disrespectful to her mother.

Tywin found Cerseis handmaidens outside her chamber as the sounds that came from it could put to shame any wild animal, the ladies looked frightened and not one of them dared to go in, however, all of them tried to warn him in leaving the lady be, suggesting that this has probably happened before.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Get out”

“Young lady I advise you-“

“Shut up! I don’t want to listen to you! How could you marry her?! How could you do this to my mother?”

That was the last thing she said before a harsh slap landed on Cerseis's cheek, the girl was taken back by the act since her father had never hit her, he would discipline her but mostly by raising his voice or finding peculiar tricks of punishment, for Tywin to get physical with his daughter meant that she had gone too far.

“You do not get to judge my decisions, you will welcome your brother and sisters and you will be nice to my wife whether you like it or not, did I make myself clear?”

Silence only looks that could kill were exchanged

“Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes Father”

“My love?”

(Y/n) walked into the room, she had heard everything although she chose to reside in the act of being clueless, Tywin had turned away from his daughter and walked to his soon-to-be wife’s side, his hand found hers and brought it up to his lips, (y/n) smiled fondly before she scanned the room with her eyes, a puzzled look on her face as the room was upside down.

“What has happened? Is the young lady alright? The handmaidens were stuttering when I asked about the noises”

“Yes, no need to worry, my dear, Cersei was just redecorating”

“Oh, well if she wishes I can help with that”

“No, no, Cersei is quite specific, she prefers doing things her way, hence this scenery, we should live her”

“As the young lioness wishes, but before we leave”

(Y/n) took a few steps so she can stand ahead of Cersei, Cersei truly felt like a lioness, one that was trapped in a cage to be exact, as much as Cersei wanted to believe she could outsmart anyone (y/n) had years up on the horse, so naturally she was now trotting past Cersei with her caring smile and eyes that lit up, Cersei was left to looking like a kid that threw a tantrum whilst (y/n) looked like a mother that did her best to keep the peace.

“I know you are angry at me, I would be too, I will not try to be your mother, I do however hope that one day you will view me as your ally or your friend even”

(Y/n) went to caress Cerseis cheek which Cersei flinched away from that earned her a cold hard stare from her father, (y/n) only bit her lip in defeat, then it was replaced by a smile of hope, (y/n) genuinely wanted things to go as smooth as possible, to keep all of Joanna's children close to her, it was the least she could do she wasn’t a complete monster, as much as Cersei liked to think of her as one.

“Perhaps it’s too soon, I am asking way too much of you, I hope you have a great day, sweetling”

“Put everything back in its place, now”

Tywin instructed in a stern voice before they exited the chamber that Hurricane Cersei was occupying, Tywin was sure that she would throw something at the door once it was closed and he stood correct when a loud bang was heard.

“She is a young girl that lost her mother, having an attitude with me is inevitable”

“Cersei is not a normal young girl, she has a superiority complex over everyone, our children will not interact with her yet”

“That won’t be a problem, Asena is not… fond of Cersei either”

“I wonder why, let us not think of Cersei right now, it is time for Nymeria to be fed”

“See how beautiful it sounds when it rolls off the tongue? And you wanted to name her Lydia”

Since this babe was the first legitimate child of Tywin and (y/n) he had the suggestion of picking the name of the beloved girl, on the contrary (y/n) was not budging, she was adamant on naming her daughter after the biggest warrior queen Dorne has ever known, her precious Nymeria.

“The princess never wanted to marry lord Tywin, she was far more interested in keeping their relationship private, howbeit Lord Tywin was too consumed by his emotions for her to consider the fact that the princess could have been wed, she simply chose not to”

Grant maester Pycelle added when asked about their wedding. (Y/n) did not care about her children being legitimate or owning land, Dorne was her home, her brother had congratulated her on the birth of her twins and even offered to have them in Dorne, and her family was delighted by (y/n) bringing forth new heirs for the Martells, it was only Tywin that wanted to make it official, to let everyone know that the princess was now cloaked by the lion, her life as the lady of the rock had begun and Dorne had entered a land that they never really thought of earning.

“In a day you will be my wife, therefore, my children’s good mother, I expect them to treat you as such”

“I do not, Tywin they are in mourning, you cannot expect them to make it easy for me”

“I am not dimly witted my dearest, I know they will have some thoughts over our marriage, albeit I will make sure they keep it to themselves”

Requests are open!

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wardenparker · 8 months

Text

The Viper's Bride - ch 14

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* Threats, anger, threats of violence (specifically), classism, degrading language. FFM threesome, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnant sex, rough sex, cum eating. Summary: An announcement, a decision, a reaction, and a development. After the events of this day, none of your lives will be the same. Notes: This is, of course, an au. So we have adapted the events of season four to be as true to the plot as possible while also working for the story we want to tell. I hope you enjoy!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13

Each step forward this morning feels heavy to Raeden, who is amused at his own surprise over how much he wishes he was still in bed with his bride. He and Margaery had almost fallen into bed upon the group's return to the keep last night, taken aback by the shock of the charge in their first kiss as man and wife. This morning Leyth had woken them last and left the room with an expression made of pure amusement, finding the couple wrapped in each other instead of the blankets had been a boon of practicality. Any question of the marriage's consummation could be answered by the first-hand witness account of your maid.

"Mace Tyrell will be angry, shouting." Oberyn reminds him, smirking slightly at the expression on the other man's face. Margaery Tyrell – Sunstone's – cunt must be magical to make the man forego his duty with such a woeful expression on his face. Although the idea of having everyone together had been sweet, it was necessary to establish the legality of the marriage without any dispute first. A night with all five of their group in bed would come soon enough. "However, in his heart, he is a coward." He snorts. "Grasping at favors like a rat and scampering away when heavy boots thud around the table."

“It is not Mace Tyrell I worry about,” Raeden admits. Though he is not precisely keen to inform his unwitting father-in-law of the elopement, Raeden has enough wits to understand that Olenna Tyrell is the true head of his wife’s family. “Tywin will not be pleased to lose out on the Tyrell fortune.”

"Tywin thinks that you are my little pet," Oberyn grunts in amusement. "Perhaps a lover I have taken out of boredom and bestow favors upon." He shakes his head. "It is why you have been allowed in the Small Council sessions, he believes that you are soon gone and will no longer be of consequence." Oberyn knows his reputation and what the elder Lannister would think, using it and him for his own ends. Now there is no question of Raeden's position and it is another stab at the Lannisters. This time in their pockets.

“Yet, I am the only one you have not fucked yet.” Chuckling ruefully at that fact, Raeden walks steadily beside Oberyn and shakes his head as he goes. It is only a matter of time for them, and Oberyn has been respectful of Raeden’s past troubles with male lovers.

"I have not fucked your pretty wife." He points out, smirking slightly as they walk shoulder to shoulder. "Tell me, how was her cunt last night? Was it tight and wet for you?"

“All the stable boys and knights and soldiers all moaning for their queen at night would not have been disappointed.” Despite chuckling, though, Raeden puts one hand into his pocket as they walk and fiddles with his wife’s favourite handkerchief. She had given it to him this morning as a token of proof if her father did not believe what they had done. He has a wife. That truth still sits foreign on Raeden’s tongue.

"Then I do not feel guilty for having both of your soulmates on my face and cock last night." Oberyn teases, knowing full well both men wear the marks and in a strange way are also bound to each other. He catches the tender expression that flashes across Raeden's face and understands it. How that he has made his own vows and discovers that he does not dread it as much as he thought he would. "It will be a good union, perhaps a loving one in time." He predicts, wrapping his arm around the new husband's broad shoulders. "I have a good feeling about this."

Down the hall and around a corner, the other two judges, such as they are, are already waiting in the throne room when Oberyn and Raeden stroll in with broad smiles and good humor. “Oberyn.” Tywin Lannister raises one eyebrow in surprise. “You are early.”

“Early because there is a matter that needs to be discussed before the meeting and trial.” He announces before he looks to Raeden. “Lord Sunstone has taken a wife.”

“How…fortunate.” Tywin cannot see immediately why this matter is of any concern to him, but he forces his expression into a thin-lipped smile and nods to the elevated bastard. “You are to be congratulated, then?”

“Many thanks.” Raeden knows that sentiment will be soured when they find out who he married. He turns towards Mace and reaches into his pocket. “I hope there will be no harsh feelings for the quickness of the marriage, but your daughter is safe and content in my chambers.” He tells the man as he pulls out the handkerchief.

“My daughter?” Mace huffs out a condescending laugh of ridicule without so much as glancing at the fabric in the bastard noble’s hand. “You must be a greater dullard than I thought, boy.” Bolstered by Tywin standing just over his shoulder, Mace Tyrell knows no fear. “Margaery is a queen, not a bed-warming whore. Some girl has tricked you into a fool’s vow claiming to be a Tyrell.”

“It is true.” Oberyn bristles at the insult, far more than even Raeden does, since he was the one to appoint him as a lord. “I witnessed their vows myself and the former queen eagerly spoke her vows before the maester and the Seven.”

“It is not possible.” The man’s round eyes widen before instantly squinting, and he bolts forward to snatch at the token that Raeden keeps just out of his reach. Margaery’s monogram is unmistakable in the corner, done up in green thread by her own mother’s hand. “It is not possible!” Mace howls, his face turning deep pink and then red as confusion turns to fury. If his daughter has actually eloped, he is ruined. “This is a trick!”

“Miracles abound.” The prince snorts, amused by the older man’s tantrum. “If it is a trick, then it was a vivid one, considering my servant saw your daughter using Lord Raeden as her personal pillow this morning, still perched on his cock in sleep.” He smirks as he looks towards Lord Tywin. “Tired herself out on her husband’s cock it seems.”

Lannister, who has pursed his lips once so far but said nothing, watches with careful eyes as Mace storms around the room in circles for a moment before doubling back to him with drawn terror on his greasy little face. “It cannot have been allowed.” He insists, staring up at the much taller Tywin in horror. “I did not allow it! I would never allow it! She will be brought to heel and returned to you, Tywin. As promised.”

“And break the laws of the kingdom?” Instead of Oberyn speaking up, it is Raeden. “Once a marriage is blessed by the maesters and consummated, it negates any contracts or agreements made prior.” He reminds the Small Council members. “You no longer have the power to do so, Lord Tyrell.”

“You are a flea.” Mace Tyrell may be half of Raeden Sunstone’s height, but he points a finger up at him like he’s scolding a street urchin. “You are a boil on my ass and I will see you in a cell right next to Tyrion’s for this!” With a face redder than a ripe cherry, Mace Tyrell storms from the chamber headed for the gods-only-know-where, muttering and flailing his hands all the way.

“That went very well.” Oberyn chuckles. “Don’t you think?” He asks Raeden, knowing the man is slightly flustered at the ire of his new father-in-law.

“It certainly went differently than expected,” admits Raeden, who had prepared himself to be attacked bodily if Mace reacted poorly.

“It was unwise, Oberyn.” Tywin warns him in a grave voice. “Most unwise.”

“What? Only the Lannisters can make deals that benefit them?” Oberyn asks, lifting a brow haughtily. “I think that you are upset your golden goose has been plucked.”

Tywin’s thin lips become a nearly flat line and he narrows his eyes at Oberyn. “It goes without saying that your place on the Small Council has been rescinded for this stunt.”

The response is not what Tywin must have expected. With a causal shrug, Oberyn smirks. “That is agreeable with me.” He hums and narrows his eyes slightly. “You meet too early for me.”

“You have stuck your nose and your pet mongrel in where they do not belong.” Heat rises in Lannister’s voice, a low rumble that would have most others trembling instantly. “What good do you think the throne will ever do for Dorne now?”

“Why do you think Dorne needs the throne?” His amused demeanor drops and his eyes darken dangerously. “We have not bent the knee. Do not forget, Lannister, that you need us to be the Seven Kingdoms.” He growls, the threat clear in his voice.

“What invasion could be withstood? What negotiations will end in your favour? What mercy will your people find when they are left without the resources they rely on from the North?” The steady rolling rumble of Tywin Lannister’s voice echoes through the room, bouncing off each wall and making it sound as though he were everywhere. “Whatever you promised Margaery, rescind it now. Your bastard’s bride-napping may yet go unnoticed.”

“You wouldn’t.” Oberyn counters. “Because it would be admitting that your Lords are not capable of being managed.” He tells him. “That your hold on the throne is not as iron fisted as you would have it believed.” His own blood is starting to boil now, the insults to Dorne, the threats, pissing him off. “We will simply turn our trade to Bravos,” he counters. “Our spices and silks will be sent across the Narrow Sea. Dorne is not threatened by you, or your armies.”

******

The rising voices, the tension, the anxieties in the air, the building anger means more things than just another spat between the Martells and Lannisters. It means tensions rising for the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. It could go as far as war, if things turn violent. But more immediately, for the man awaiting yet another day of his trial in a cell several yards down the hallway, it means a heighten possibility of certain death very soon. If his father is angry and the opinion of his trial’s only reasonable judge is moot? Then Tyrion Lannister is headed for the executioner’s block. Tyrion stretches as close as his chains will allow, trying to hear as much of the conversation as possible.

“That don’t sound good for you.” The portly, slovenly jailer had been another insult for Tyrion. Someone who could barely see his dick over his fat belly couldn’t possibly chase down a healthy, whole man. But Tyrion wasn’t a normal sized man. And the guard set to escort him to and from the trail reminded him of that.

Tyrion’s eyes roll so far back in his head that they almost disappear, and he huffs. No, it does not sound good for him at all. “Hardly anything involving my father is ever good for me,” he says instead.

“Fighting with that Dornish pig.” He grunts. “Nothing good comes out of Dorne but the whores.”

“I would advise you not to say that within earshot of the Red Viper,” Tyrion advises rather drolly.

“What’s he gonna do? Fuck me to death?” The jailer snorts, his amusement making him cough until he hacks up a thick wad of phlegm that he spits at Tyrion’s feet. “I ain’t a goat.”

Grimacing animatedly only to end up rolling his eyes at himself this time, Tyrion gains a half-inch more toward the bars of his cell and leans over. His father’s threats are clear and the prince’s replies are steadily hushed, although his tone is clear enough. “It is time,” he lies, turning to the guard and gesturing. “Bring me in.”

“I didn’t hear nothing.” The guard protests but Tyrion snorts.

“My father will have your head removed if you fail to do your duty.” He reminds him, making the man grimace. He has no love for Tywin Lannister, but he doesn’t want to die because of him.

“On your feet!” He barks, grinning as Tyrion struggles to his feet in the heavy chains.

The usual ruckus and chaos of onlookers is absent when the guard lumbers past the end of the hallway and into the throne room and he grunts as he shoves Tyrion forward. “What is this?” Tywin barks out, barely even glancing down at his youngest child.

Oberyn hums in amusement, settling back in his chair. While Tywin may have kicked him off the Small Council, he cannot kick him off the trial now, and he knows it. “It is your son.” He muses. “You do not recognize him? Perhaps because he is covered in filth and shit from where you threw him in the dungeon.”

"And a good morning to you, too, your Grace." As much of a farce as this entire trial may be, Tyrion is still glad of Prince Oberyn's presence in the proceedings. The trouble will be if his father decides to bring a swift end to things and ignore the prince's opinions in the verdict.

"What is this?" Tywin repeats, annoyance building on top of anger in his tone. "What is it you want, Tyrion? Unless you have come to confess, I will not hear anything from you."

"Yes, Father. I'm guilty." Tyrion's tone is not one of dismissal or of anger, but one of a measured response, and that catches Oberyn's attention. "Guilty. Is that what you want to hear?"

Startled, Tywin's eyebrows knit together. "You admit you poisoned the king?"

"No, of that I'm innocent." Tyrion may be many things, but the least of them all is a fool. "I'm guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I am guilty of being a dwarf."

Wholly annoyed with his son's dramatics, Tywin huffs so deeply that he nearly implodes. "You are not on trial for being a dwarf."

"Oh, yes, I am. I've been on trial for that my entire life." Tyrion contends seriously.

Tywin pinches the bridge of his nose. "If you have nothing to say in your defense, you will go back to your cell until it is time for the trial to begin."

"I did not kill Joffrey." Tyrion holds up both hands in a sort of show of innocence, but also defense. He is headed toward a point, and he will make it sooner rather than later. "I wish I was the monster you think I am. I wish I had the stark fortitude of will to do away so decisively with my enemies. I would gladly give my life to see that justice done. But I will not give my life for Joffrey's murder, and I know I'll get no justice here." Studying his father's face intently and seeing the intrigue there, Tyrion is sure there is a chance this may work. "So I will let the Gods decide my fate." A sure, steady breath enters his body and he squares his shoulders. "I demand a trial by combat."

Oberyn leans forward, intrigued by the notion and it is obvious from the ridged disapproval on his face, that another of Tywin’s schemes that has not gone his way, his careful plotting unraveled by the son he had always secretly despised.

"You know who Cersei will appoint her Champion." Tywin nearly twitches as the idea settles into his bones, disliking every moment of his cursed imp son's clever mind. Why could that cleverness not have gone to Jamie where it could be useful?

“And I will have my own champion.” Tyrion answers dismissively, even though his list of allies dwindles as the days pass and his lack of gold backing him is made obvious.

"Who?" Tywin chortles with unfettered glee. "That useless squire of yours? I thought you finally set him free."

“There is someone who will fight for me.” Tyrion insists, though he knows that Bron would not. He does not have enough coin to pay him.

"How much time will you give him to find someone?" Raeden asks, aghast at everything that has happened in a mere five minute span.

Tywin seems to consider this, frowning down at his son for a long moment before speaking again. "Whatever the length of time is that it will take Clegane to arrive in King's Landing."

“Gregor Clegane?” Oberyn’s voice is soft, piercing through the tension like a whip.

"Who else would my sister appoint to be her Champion?" Tyrion asks, mostly rhetorically. "She cannot appoint our brother, can she?" After all, Jamie's missing hand is a damper on his swordplay. Otherwise Tyrion would have appointed his brother himself. Still, Tyrion looks to Jamie standing silently in the corner with sympathy. He knows what it is to be unwanted and wishes that Jamie never had to learn.

Oberyn hums, a vicious little growl in the back of his throat. Thrilled that the opportunity has finally presented itself. “I will be your champion.” He tells Tyrion, his voice clear and firm.

"You— what?" Both Lannisters ask together, heads snapping up toward the Dornish prince. Even Raeden is staring, although he is imagining the terror on your and Ellaria's faces rather than expressing surprise at Oberyn's choice. He understands perfectly why the choice is being made.

"I will fight for Tyrion Lannister." He repeats, settling back into his chair with an air of supreme victory. "And kill your Mountain." He warns Tywin. "It is fortunate that you have been so accommodating in arranging our conversation. I was starting to think that you had deceived me." He offers with a small pout.

A man does not get a nickname like the Red Viper of Dorne without earning it, and although Tyrion has never seen Oberyn Martell fight, he knows his reputation. The man is as likely to win a fight as he is to be successful in a seduction – and he has fucked half of Westeros.

For his part, Tywin is seething, but the only way to tell is his eyes. If looks could kill there would be no need for champions at all — Tywin would simply strike his son down here and now. “Take him away,” he growls to the jailer, striking out one bony finger to indicate that he wants Tyrion as far away from him as possible.

Jamie Lannister is perhaps the only person in the entire room that seems genuinely upset, his eyes filled with genuine worry for the brother he has always tried to protect from the wrath of his sister and father. His deal with his father now useless, he turns and strides out of the room with a swish of his white cloak.

******

“You are sure you can win?” Raeden is at Oberyn’s side with worry painted over his every feature in the swift walk to your chambers. If anything happens to Oberyn, he cannot think of how profoundly it will devastate you and Ellaria.

"Extremely." Oberyn boasts confidently. "I have been in the fighting pits in Mereen, against much better opponents than Gregor Clegane." He spits the name out like a curse. "His size is what wins him his battles but I have the agility he does not."

“Size can often be enough.” Raeden himself is not a small man, but nowhere near the size of the legendary Mountain. “They say he can crush a man’s skull in with his bare hands, Oberyn. That is not to be taken lightly.”

"I do not intend to make light of it." He reassures him. "I intend to make him confess his crimes in front of all of King's Landing before I kill him."

“Revenge for your sister and a swift trip back to Sunspear.” Even when Raeden nods, it is with a heavy heart.

"Tywin Lannister ordered the murder of my sister, a crowned Princess of Dorne." He reminds Raeden. "Would you not do the same if it had been Star's fate?" He asks quietly.

Raeden’s eyes darken, the gruffness in his voice obvious. “I would burn the world down if it took her from us.”

“Then you understand.” Oberyn grunts. “I must do this. But I will not fail.” He smirks. “My bite is much worse than his.”

When Raeden pushes open the door to the chambers now shared by seven people, they are considerably fuller than they were even last night. Trunks piled in the corner that he has never seen before say that you and Ellaria must have taken Margaery to retrieve her things from her grandmother while he was speaking to Mace Tyrell with Oberyn. A very clever decision on your part – you will only have dealt with Olenna Tyrell this way.

"How did my father take the news?" Her grandmother had been surprised, but she had smirked and patted her hand in a way that let Margaery know that she approved of her granddaughter's rash decision.

"Apparently..." Raeden sighs, but happily puts his arms around his wife when she steps closer to him. "I am a flea for stealing you away from him." He shrugs, his mind having moved on to other things since being shouted at by the red-faced little man. "How did your grandmother take it?"

"She did not say much, but—" her smile is bright and conspiratorial. "She is pleased. I am out of my father's and the Lannister's clutches." Her hands brace on his chest and while she would sink into his arms, she pushes him back slightly so she can take his hand and drag him over to one of the larger chest. "She has sent this with me, promising that the rest will be ready for when we sail to Dorne."

Curiosity is a powerful thing, and Raeden raises one eyebrow at Margaery before lifting the heavy lid of the trunk she has indicated. Jewelry, coin, silver and gold trinkets, luxurious fabrics, and assorted pieces of armor fill the large wooden vessel and he sucks in a sharp breath. “She—she gave you your dowry?” In truth, he had not expected to see it. Having eloped with Margaery, he had assumed that her family would deny him the fortune that had been offered to the Lannisters along with her hand. But it appears he was wrong.

"A portion of it." She clarifies. "There are six other trunks that are bigger than this one." She snorts. "Seven trunks of gold for the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms." She had scoffed at the irony. "Along with another seven trunks of silks, seven of weapons, and seven of silver."

"So this is...a sampling?" His eyes widen at the implications of that – of all the riches that she has brought to the infancy of their House. He knew it would be a great deal, but clearly he had underestimated the wealth of House Tyrell.

"My grandmother has a gift for keeping our wealth quiet, especially when my father wishes to flaunt it." She purses her lips. "But over the course of the years, House Tyrell has accumulated more wealth than the Lannisters have in their coffers." She admits. "Robert Baratheon was a wasteful man."

"Kings have that habit." You murmur from behind them, surprising even yourself with how much you enjoy the sight of them side by side. "Forgive me for interrupting, but would someone like to tell me why my husband breezed through the room and shut himself away without a word to any of us?" Oberyn's face had held determination and an utter expression of being pleased with himself, but he had walked straight through your quarters and shut himself out on the balcony and is now pacing the length of it with determination.

Guilt at forgetting the most important part of today floods Raeden and he drops Margaery's hand to rush towards you and gasps your shoulders. "My love, I—" He starts and chokes up for a moment before he clears his throat. "The trial is over." He tells you quietly. "Tyrion invoked trial by combat when it became clear that he would not get a fair judgement."

"And trial by combat will be more fair?" The deep concern etched into his face brings your heartbeat to a near panic almost immediately. "But why should that upset Oberyn so? It means we can go home."

"The Lannister's champion is Gregor Clegane." He murmurs softly. "The Mountain." His hands drop to yours and he squeezes gently, bracing for you to understand. "We are not going home."

"Oh no." Turning away from him immediately, you push through to the other chamber of your quarters and practically shout Ellaria's name to get her attention before moving through to the door of the balcony. The wooden doors have glass panels where you can see Oberyn moving with grace and determination – as though he were prowling out there instead of walking back and forth. "Oberyn, unlock the doors," you insist, knocking on them loudly after you find that they will not pull open. The latch on the outside of the doors never made sense to you until this moment, and now you curse it.

Ellaria's graceful pose on the settee abandoned when she hears the distress in your voice, she rises and quickly crosses the room to where you are rattling the costly glass as you bang on it. "What is wrong?" She demands, her breath catching when she sees the stiffness in her lover's back, the determination in his gain. "What did he do?" She gasps.

"He's going to get himself killed," you gasp, feeling a little like you cannot fill your lungs properly. "Oberyn, open the door!"

Oberyn pauses, looking towards the door and his eyes flash, conveying that he knows that you are aware of his plan. He turns and continues his pacing as he plots, thinks about his next moves. About the confrontation to come.

"Tyrion demanded a trial by combat," you tell Ellaria, already feeling the tears fill your eyes as true terror and worry set in one wave at a time. "And the Lannisters have The Mountain."

"Gods be damned." Ellaria whispers, her own dread crashing through her like a wave and for a moment, she sways on her feet. She's aware of Raeden and Margaery out of the corner of her eye, but she cannot muster any thought but of what will come. "He is fighting for Tyrion."

"He is fighting for Elia." There is no need to state the obvious, but you cannot help yourself. The tears are flowing freely even if they are silent, and you can feel yourself shaking with nerves.

Ellaria sighs softly, her own fears pushed aside as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. You need to be calm, for the baby. “Come my love.” She murmurs softly. “He will not talk until he is ready.” She knows his habits and of this, she is certain. “Let me get you some tea and we can sit.”

"Oberyn!" They will have to forcibly remove you from the other side of this door and there is hardly any chance of calm finding you soon. Of course you understand the need to avenge his sister's murder, but if attempting it will leave nine children fatherless then is that worthwhile?

Margaery moves to your other side. “Come.” She urges softly. “It cannot be good for the baby.” Her hand wraps around your arm and she tugs you gently.

It is a broken half-sob that cracks through you, making you fold in half at the door. Everything has come to such a measure of happiness and now it stands on the brink of ruin. It is only because of Ellaria and Margaery that you do not collapse into a heap on the floor. The older woman bearing most of your weight as she carries you away from the glass, Raeden rushing over to take you from her and cradle you in his arms.

Raeden all but carries you to the bed, laying you down to cry on the pillow instead. Fear – pure, unadulterated fear – courses through every inch of your body as you lay there, unable to think of anything but the possibility of losing him. Your husband. The father of your unborn child. Your soulmate. What will become of all of you and the promises that have been made if Oberyn dies reaping his revenge from his sister's killer?

Margaery is the first to lay down. Knowing how upset you are and wishing to offer you some small comfort. “He must have a plan.” She coos, stroking her hand over your hair while you cry.

"What can one plan against a Mountain?" Overwhelmed with fear, you barely shake your head. For someone who has grown up with great violence in your life, the idea of it now is terrifying. When the people in your life have been in danger – your brothers, or Brynna, Raeden, or even Margaery? You have done everything in your power to help them. You cannot be of help to Oberyn in a fight to the death.

“Our lover, our soulmate would not champion this fight if he didn’t not know he could win.” Ellaria is angry at Oberyn as well, but she knows he will not yield in this. The best thing she can do is support him and encourage you to do the same. “He is clever and quick, fierce. He would not fight if he thought he would leave our children without a father.”

"I cannot control the tears." Begging her to understand, desperately hoping that the one other woman in the room to have experienced pregnancy will know this feeling, you cling to Ellaria's hand. "Or the fear in my heart."

“I have fear too.” She confesses quietly, wrapping her lithe body around your back. “Do not doubt it, but I know he will do this, even if we do not approve.”

It is not for you to approve or disapprove of. You know that. This is something that he must do, for himself and for Elia. In his shoes you know you would do the same. But that does not keep you from weeping at the possibility of losing him.

Raeden watches, feeling helpless as you cry so he turns to the doors out onto the ledge, hoping Oberyn might talk to him. It is not likely the prince will entertain any argument whatsoever against his choice, but it is not Raeden’s intent to talk him out of his vow. Just to simply get him to talk.

The knock on the door makes Oberyn pause again, seeing Raeden on the other side, and his eyes slide past him to the bed where Ellaria and Margaery are laying with you. Clenching his jaw as he strides to the door, he wonders if you have sent your other soulmate to talk him out of his duty to his family. Talk to me. Raeden mouths through the window, not wanting to shout and startle you more. He has seen how screaming can panic you after incidents with your mother.

For a moment, he considers ignoring the man, to continue to plot by himself, but the concern in his eyes makes him flip the bar to allow the doors to be pushed open. “You will not change my mind.” He warns the younger lord.

“It is not my intent to try.” Raeden steps out onto the balcony and lets the door shut again behind him. “But tell me you have a plan.”

“I do.” Oberyn nods as he looks out over the city below the keep. “They will make it very public, an event.” He muses, a trace of a chuckle in his tone. “They will wish to make an example of him, and me.”

“And you will make them wish they had not?” He guesses, seeing the fire in Oberyn’s eyes.

“I will get my confession if it must force it from him one slice at a time.” He growls with satisfaction. “For all of King’s Landing to hear. Tywin Lannister’s sins will be laid bare.”

“I know you are determined. With good reason.” Raeden’s hand twitches but he does not reach out. Oberyn is pacing like a caged animal and may bite. “And we are not of a mind to change that.” He swallows a plaintive sound. “But you have two soulmates afraid of losing you,” he tells Oberyn plainly. “Your wife is inconsolable at the idea.”

Your words burn into his brain and he sighs after a moment, looking back towards the door. “I—” he pauses and he knows that you are different from Ellaria, you have not seen him fight before. “I will talk to her.” He tells Raeden, stepping closer and reaching out to cup the man’s neck to drag him closer for a kiss.

It is fierce, and a little surprising, but Raeden does not fight the moment of intimacy. Instead he presses into it and nips at Oberyn’s bottom lip before letting him go. Oberyn growls, the urge to strip Raeden down right here and burn off the extra energy fucking him nearly makes him reach for his belt, but he has a soulmate, two soulmates to reassure. He doesn’t hesitate to reach down and cup the other man’s cock, feeling it twitch in his hands. “Soon.” He promises.

Ellaria is the only one of the three of you facing the door, and she sighs in relief to see Oberyn striding back into the room even as your tears have started to calm. They seem to come in waves and right now the flow is ebbing.

He doesn’t urge Margaery to move, but he reaches over her for you. Pulling you up and into his arms. Upset at himself now that he’s not solely focused on his revenge at how distressed you are. “My moon and stars.” He coos softly, cupping your chin. “Why are you crying like you are mourning me?”

"Practice." You sniff, curling against his chest and clutching his robe.

“You will be practicing for a long time.” He warns you, a chuckle at your pouting tone threatening to bubble out of him. His lips press into your hair and he cradles you close. “Why do you insult me by believing it is my time to die?”

"I do not—" Sucking in a breath makes you shudder, and you shake your head against his chest. "Mean to insult you, love. It is—I—I am afraid for you."

“I am not going to die at the hands of Gregor Clegane.” He promises you. “I will die old and decrepit in our bed, after many more children and years together.” He hums. “I will hold our child in my arms as she slips from your womb.”

"They say he cannot be beaten." You have heard the tales of The Mountain as well as everyone else in Westeros, and despite having also heard tales of Oberyn's prowess as a fighter, you cannot help the way you have reacted. "And they say you cannot be beaten. Surely one of those is wrong."

“He is large and lumbering. I have the advantage of speed and skill because I do not rely on brute strength alone.” He tells you, rubbing your back gently. He is trying to reassure all of you.

“I—I am— forgive me.” Logic and reason dictate that he is correct. That speed and agility may be enough to work against an enormous foe in one-to-one battle. And even though logic and reason are not your ruling bodies right now, you can see the merit in that argument. “I do not mean to doubt you. I only— I cannot bear the thought of being without you.”

“It is okay to be worried.” He will not make light of your fears, but he will remind you that he has no intention of dying. He nuzzles against your jaw and presses a soft kiss to your skin. “I have every intention of poisoning the bastard as well.” He admits quietly.

That makes your head snap up, eyebrows furrowed, and lips parted in surprise, though you are not sure why. It is a good plan. A very clever plan, in fact. To be as qualified with and knowledgeable of poisons as he is, it would almost be folly not to use them. “You—you will?”

“They do not call me the Red Viper for naught, my love.” He reminds you quietly. “From the first strike, Gregor Clegane will die. Every time he will swing his sword or axe, he will work the poison closer to his heart.” He smirks. “That is where being quick and agile works in my favor.”

Foggy from tears and fear, your mind is slow to grasp the concept but once you arrive at it, you gasp. “All you have to do is wear him out. The poison will do the rest?”

“Exactly, my love.” He hums, happy that you have worked it out. “While I trick him into confessing his part in my sister’s murder and who gave the order.”

Though the realization does not instantly dry your tears, it does have you sniffling and burying your face against his chest all over again. “When, my love? When is all this meant to happen?”

“It will be within the next week.” He doesn’t know exactly when, but he can’t imagine Tywin delaying it longer than necessary. “As soon as the Mountain arrives to King’s Landing.”

Both of your arms creep around him, holding tight to the man who has changed your life irrevocably and so much for the better. “Once it is over, I hope we never have to return to King’s Landing again.”

“That would be my fondest wish.” Oberyn chuckles, allowing you to hold tight to him as he looks over at his other soulmate and reaches for her. “Come.”

Ellaria is better at hiding her fear. She has more practice and has seen him through many more battles than you – both big and small. But even she sighs with relief to sit up from the bed and press a kiss to his palm. “If you do not return with us I will find a way to make sure your baby is a boy and convince your princess to name him Oberyn,” she threatens half-heartedly, knowing from conversations many years past that he hates the idea of naming a child after himself.

“You would not dare.” He groans, sending her a narrowed eyed gaze, playful in nature.

“I will.” She promises, wrapping her arms around both of you in turn. “As sure as the sun rises each morning.”

“Then it is settled.” He huffs, leaning in to press his lips to hers. “I will not die; I will make sure that my newest child is not be named after me.”

“Is that all it takes?” You huff, playfulness edging your still-worried voice as you kiss both of them easily. “A threat?”

“I am simple man.” He teases, winking at you before he squeezes you gently. “Do not worry yourself sick, my love.”

“I promise I will not show my fear out there.” Glancing to the windows and at King’s Landing below, you bite back a sigh. It will be imperative to present yourselves as united, strong, and confident when the time comes.

“A little fear is not unrealistic.” He reminds you. “I just do not want you to make yourself ill. You have the baby to think of.”

“And so do you.” The tears, thankfully, are beginning to dry. And as with all other times in this pregnancy, it seems, you have become rather exhausted from the efforts of shedding them.

“I know, Star.” He rocks you slightly against his body and despite the earliness of the day, you are already starting to wilt from the exertion of your tears. “Do you wish to nap, my love?”

Pursing your lips at him, you wrinkle your nose for good measure and sigh in defeat. “Only if you promise not to make any more life or death decisions while I am tucked in.”

“I promise that I will run any other decisions by you before they are made.” He promises. “Do you want to lay down by yourself, or would you like one of us to stay with you?”

“It would be selfish to ask someone to stay.” And with the display you just made, the last thing you want is to show more selfishness. “I am sure you all have more entertaining things to do than lay with me in the dark.”

“I am feeling exhausted.” Margaery is not tired, but you have been such a rock for her, that if she can lay down with you to be some small comfort, she will. “Would you mind if I shared your nap with you? I know that we are not intimate yet, but maybe you would not mind?”

“Fifteen minutes ago you were practically giddy for Raeden to return.” Skepticism aside, you do offer her a half smile when Oberyn puts you back in bed beside your other soulmate’s wife. “But all the same…I would dearly appreciate the company.”

“Good.” She sends you a small smile and settles against the cushions. “We will have a nice rest and then we can settle on what we will do for the rest of the day.”

“Nothing too public, I should think.” As word gets out that Margaery has married again – and that it was not to Tommen Baratheon – you expect there will be a few days at least where she ought to lay low.

“No, nothing public. But perhaps we can go through my clothes to see what I will need to discard before we get to Dorne?” She asks, look at you as you both lie down.

“That would be a good idea,” Ellaria agrees with an encouraging nod. “Both of you can surely donate your heavier gowns to some less fortunate ladies and it will be less to travel with.”

“Yes, will we have the noon meal delivered to the rooms.” Oberyn promises. “Now, both of you rest and when you are ready, come out to the main area.” He leans down and kisses your lips and hesitates but then does kiss Margaery’s forehead. She has not indicated wanted to touch him yet, but it seemed rude to kiss his wife and leave her out.

“We will, my love.” You promise him, watching as your three lovers file from the room and close the door gently behind them. Though you truly are tired, you turn back to face Margaery and offer her a smile. “You are very kind to offer to stay with me.”

“If it was me in your place, you would offer the same.” She murmurs quietly. “I meant what I said, I consider you my dearest friend and now? Perhaps more.”

“Have you been hiding affection for me, Margaery?” Waving away the joke teasingly, you nevertheless curl up on the pillow beside her and offer her a place in your arms if she wants it. “That would quite set tongues to wagging.”

“You are beautiful.” She huffs and slides closer to you until her own arms wrap around you. “You know that. You and Ellaria are breathtaking. More stunning at my wedding than I was.”

“Impossible.” The wedding may have been a tense, overdramatic thing, but Margaery was mesmerizing. “You looked like a goddess that day.” Cheeks warming slightly at how easily she comes to you, you let one of your hands settle on her back. “You are one of the most stunning women I have ever seen, no matter what the day is.”

“You must not have looked in a mirror too often, my Princess.” She hums, smiling at you and leaning in. “It is high praise if you feel that way.”

“Margaery…” Before you can let the moment progress, you take a breath and put your other hand to her cheek. “If you change your mind, simply say the word and we will go on as if nothing ever happened.”

“I understand.” She hums softly, aware that she is in a unique situation, and this is something she could have never foreseen, but she is not upset by it.

First Brynna, then Ellaria, and now Margaery. There seems no rhyme or reason to it beside them all being beautiful women who treat you with singular kindness, but when you lean forward to press your lips to Margaery’s for the first time and let your eyes flutter shut, there is that same feeling of rightness that there had been with both women who came before. Unforeseen and unplanned, it is not unwelcome at all.

Margaery’s hum is almost surprised, mixed with delight as she melts into the kiss, and pulls you closer. It will be the first kiss she has had with another woman since she was a young girl, since before she had bled, but instead of giggling and teasing, she wants more.

Somehow, she tastes the way fresh air and sunshine feel in spring. Like promise and good things to come. Like the crisp cleanness of spring rain. It’s intoxicating in a way you have never experienced before, making you linger and try to claim more of the taste with small kisses from her lips.

“Does everyone in your party know how to kiss?” She asks breathlessly, grinning as she indulges in the quick kisses and her fingers reach up to undo your hairstyle.

“They all have far more experience than me,” you admit, warm cheeks disguised in the semi-darkness of the room. “But they are wonderful teachers, if there is a pleasure you wish to learn.”

“I am certain I will learn it all.” She admits, almost shyly. “Unless you think it strange that I join your obviously close foursome?”

“If it were strange to us, we would not have offered.” After a few months of knowing Oberyn and Ellaria, you are now very certain that they choose their lovers in different ways. And the ones that entered into this arrangement — this family you have created — were chosen for more than just looks or sport. “We would never have even mentioned it.”

“I am worried.” She confesses quietly. “You are Ellaria are his soulmates, Oberyn is his lover, and I— I am just his wife.” It sounds ridiculous, but she is used to many wives not being of any use or consequence once an heir was secured. “I was slightly worried my father would have offered him coin to return me to him.”

“Just his wife?” Your fingers graze through her hair and tuck the strands behind her ear. “Raeden is not in the habit of dismissing the people he cares for, my darling. And he would not have proposed – the marriage or indeed any sort of solution – if he did not care for you.”

“I guess that I just need to believe that.” She chuckles quietly. “With my luck though, you can see why that is hard.”

“Just because you have not been lucky yet, does not mean you are never going to be lucky at all.” It is a small offer of comfort, but an honest one. Your thumb strokes her cheek and you smile, feeling a bit more awake with the sensation of arousal coursing through your veins. “Perhaps it is time to balance the scales.”

“What do you suggest?” She asks, arching a brow and humming quietly. Her head tilts, leaning into your touch and her bright blue eyes are fixed on yours.

“How much are you keen to experience?” She is looking to you for guidance and you want very dearly to provide it.

“What do you have in mind?” She asks curiously. Last night with Raeden was wonderful and satisfying, but she craves more, wishing to learn everything she can and experience it all.

“Have you ever had a woman give you pleasure before?” It is a careful question, one that could go wrong if Margaery decides she does not want to explore this with you, but you find yourself craving to know if her slit tastes as divine as her lips do.

“No.” She confesses quietly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. For all her worldliness, she had never ventured into pleasure with another woman. “Is it— what is it like?” She asks breathlessly.

“Much the same as when a man has his head between your legs.” It makes you laugh softly to admit it, but it is the truth. “But slender fingers can sometimes wring sensations from you that thicker ones could not. And while these men know of that hidden nub above your folds, not all men do.”

“Raeden was the first.” She tells you quietly. “No man had ever used his mouth on me before.”

“Then your lovers have been neglecting you.” This time when you offer her a smile, it is smaller, warmer, and more confident. “If you would like to experience it from a woman, I can show you. Or Ellaria, if you would rather.”

“Do you…want to?” She asks, unsure if you are interested in her or if you are just being kind. Both you and Ellaria make her cunt clench and bottom out when you both look at her as if she is a tasty morsel.

“I would not offer if I did not want to.” Once more, your fingers smooth the stray hairs from her face. “But if you are not ready yet, or if you would prefer Ellaria, it is entirely your choice.”

“I confess I find both of you extremely intoxicating.” She tells you, slightly flustered. “I would like to touch and be touched by both of you.”

“Then that can easily be managed.” With five of you, there would never be a moment that one of you could not have someone between your legs if you wished it. “Very easily indeed.”

“Is it— similar to touching a man?” She asks, biting her lip.

“It can be.” After all, some men are soft and some women are muscled. “But women are shaped so beautifully. And the scent and taste? Worth drowning in.”

“You do not find men pleasing?” She tilts her head in surprise, sure that you had true affection for Oberyn. And to have two soulmate who were men? She cannot believe that you prefer women to men.

“Of course I do.” You shrug, though. “Some men. Not most. But women are—they are otherworldly, are they not? Inspirations. Walking goddesses.” In the half-light, you laugh softly at yourself. “I did not mean to surprise you. But surely you must know how stunning you are?”

“I have been told I am beautiful for my entire life. Flattered and had my hand kissed.” She shrugs one dainty shoulder. “Men who wished to align with my family, to access my dowry. Never me that they wanted, they wanted my name.”

“Their motives may have been wrong, but they were telling the truth about your beauty.” Your own experience as a noble daughter was nothing like hers but you still frown. “I am sorry if you learned not to believe it because of them.”

“My faults are nothing you need to apologize for.” She promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek.

“They were wrong,” you repeat again, more steadily this time. “Not you. You are not at fault.” Softly, slowly, you rise up on one elbow and nudge Margaery over onto her back. “Will you let me show you how wonderful you truly are?”

There is a soft grin on her face as she looks up at you. “I thought you were tired?”

"I was." There is no lie in that, but you cannot help the way your smile turns sly. "But then the beauty in bed with me confessed she wanted to know what it would feel like for me to touch her."

“Then touch me.” Margaery begs. “Make me cry out so loud our husbands come to see what is happening.”

"They will only be upset that they did not get to witness the first moments." Grinning, you bowl Margaery over entirely and let the next press of your lips to hers be eager. Wanting. This time your hands have permission to wander, and you work at the ties on the front of her dress methodically. Suddenly you understand every complaint Oberyn has ever had about Northern dresses.

Margaery moans when your fingers brush her skin, eager to feel your touch and her legs restlessly spread underneath you. Unable to control herself and for the first time, she doesn’t have to. She is allowed to have what she wants with no shame.

"Oberyn is right," you huff, a small laugh escaping you as your fingers ghost over her skin and spread apart the two sides of her dress. "No more of these heavy dresses in Dorne. Far too much fabric."

She giggles quietly and reaches out to pull at your own laces. “Your husband grumbles about your clothing?” She asks coyly.

"If Oberyn had his way, none of his lovers would wear anything but cock-drunk smiles." It is only half a joke, but the two of you are far more focused with pulling off your dresses. "But now that my goal lies under all of these layers, I am bound to agree with him."

“Perhaps the world would be simpler if everyone where nude.” She bites her lip and crows in triumph when your stays loosen. Your enthusiastic anticipation is catching and she swears she has soaked her undergarments.

"Oberyn will celebrate to hear you say such a thing." Laces, layers, stays, and petticoats are tossed off the bed from every angle until Margaery is finally bare under you. "Gods above..." Not so long ago, you would have been embarrassed the way the sight of her breasts makes your mouth water. But now? There is no shame in your attraction. "You are...stunning, my darling."

Your own body is still covered in a chemise and she whimpers, squirming slightly. “I— I wish to see you.” She pants slightly. “All of you.”

On your knees above her, you pick up the hem of your final layer and toy with it for a second just to see if she rolls her hips again with need. When Margaery squirms again almost instantly, you bite back a smirk. "There is no need to beg," you assure her, pulling the fabric over your head at last.

She has seen nude women before, but none that take her breath away like this. Drinking in the sight of your tits, the thatch of curls between your thighs, she reaches out to caress your hip. “Beautiful.” She whispers. “I want to see this every day.”

"I was promised an extremely large bed as a wedding present," you tell her with a grin, reaching down to caress her cheek and letting your hand wander to the peak of one breast lightly. "It will have to be large enough for five, I think."

“And if I wanted to fuck your husband?” She asks softly, wanting to make sure that she doesn’t cross any boundaries that would hurt or offend you.

"Then I might ask to watch." Your other hand grazes her thigh as your eyes roam back and forth over every inch of his body. The reddish tone of her hair is darker in the curls at the apex of her thighs, and somehow knowing that is more alluring than you ever could have believed. "Or I might fuck your husband in turn."

“You must look gorgeous on his cock.” She whimpers when your fingers brush through her curls and she spreads her legs wider. Her cunt is throbbing and unlike a man, you don’t just jump into things. Heightening the sensations. “Have you – have you fucked them together before?”

"I did not know my pussy could stretch to take both of them like that." The memory of that particular day will be burned into your mind's eye forever, and you shiver as you lay yourself down between Margaery's legs. "You can have them both too, if you want."

“And you and Ellaria?” You look breathtaking between her thighs and a shiver rubs through her body when your breath washes over her sensitive folds.

Lifting your head, the plains and dips of her body are even more dramatic from the place you are now occupying and your smile tugs into a smirk. "You can have us, too. If that is your desire."

“I have done what I have been expected to my entire life.” Margaery pants, her chest heaving as she looks down at you. “I wish to be greedy.” The sentiment earns an approving nod of your head, and a flash of your own greed has you lunging upward to wrap your lips around one pert nipple while your thumb easily finds her swollen clit. Margaery’s cry is strained, gasping when she realizes that you are just as talented as her husband, maybe even more so. Overwhelmed by the fact that you are touching her, her eyes close and then pop open again so she can watch.

Your free hand kneads her other breast, rolling the nipple between your fingers experimentally to find the amount of tension she likes even as your fingers dance at her entrance. If you had been worried about the transition from friends to lovers, the ease of this moment is proof that you need not have given it a second thought at all. After all — when you had told Oberyn that you would likely only go to bed with people you cared for, you had been telling the truth.

“Oh, oh gods.” She moans out, panting your name when you give her the exact amount of pressure on her nipples that she likes. It is like being with a man, but the touch is more gentle, localized, and she can tell that you have touched a woman before.

The pleased hun from your throat vibrates through her skin when you find just the right tension, continuing your ministrations at her gorgeous tits but slipping the tips of two fingers through her slick folds. A little deeper with each pass, it will take no time for your digits to disappear inside her body, but you want to give her time to adjust to the sensation.

“I— I did— I never—” Her cunt is pleasantly sore, thoroughly used by your soulmate last night and her hips still chase the feeling of your fingers. “Please, Princess.” She begs, the knowledge that you are higher than her socially making her clench again.

“Never what, Margaery?” Removing your mouth from her temporarily, you find her eyes already glazed over with lust and cannot help but feel a little proud. You felt the way her cunt clenched your fingers when she used your title and you wonder if she might find it alluring to be ‘under your power’ like some others have you heard about.

“Never felt so good.” She whines and shakes her head. “Please.” She needs you to keep touching her. She’s orgasmed before but this sensation is sweeter, sharper.

"Raeden will take that as a challenge," you inform her with a smirk, but her pleading is too dear. You wrap your lips around her other breast, switching your hand to its twin and sinking your fingers into her dripping wet heat just a touch faster. The way she is pulling you in, you could not go slower if you tried. It is as though her body itself is begging for you.

It is too much and not enough all at the same time. Margaery knows her voice it pitching up every time she makes a sound but she can’t even try to muffle herself, not when she knows that no one will judge her. The sharp cries of pleasure tighten when you move down her body, laying kisses along her skin and inhaling her scent with your own blissed out groan before you open your mouth entirely and envelope her cunt entirely. Languid open mouth kisses come with kitten licks from your probing tongue, and Margaery lets loose a moan so loud that it breaks past the walls and the door opens abruptly.

“Star?” At the sight in front of him, Raeden’s eyes widen. Letting loose a moan of his own at the sight of his soulmate’s face between his new wife’s thighs, licking and sucking like you have always pleasured her. “Gods be praised.” His cock jolts and immediately starts to harden as he steps fully into the room and closes the door behind him.

Your hum vibrates through Margaery's lips and you barely turn your head before you get a glimpse of Raeden crowding into the room. "I had a sudden burst of energy," you hum, smirking in a very self-satisfied way.

“I see.” He grunts, his hand moving to his belt to start untying it as he moves closer. “I had some thought to take my new wife to bed, but it seems as if you have beaten me to it.” He tells you, his eyes darkening with lust as he watches her body writhe under your attention.

"And yet I think you are not upset about it." Not at all, if his instantly hard cock is anything to judge by.

Margaery waits for her husband to answer but he doesn’t. Instead he strides over to the bed and leans in, his tongue plunging into her mouth with a hot moan as he caresses your head between her thighs.

That is all the encouragement you need, turning again to give your devoted attention to Margaery's weeping pussy. Every lick is divine, but you push your fingers deep inside her and suck her clit into your mouth all at once, wanting her to moan into Raeden's kiss so he can swallow the sound.

Margaery reaches up, desperately grasping Raeden’s head as she kisses him back, feeling like her entire world is spinning and she doesn’t want it to stop. Her husband is turned on by this, and if he and Oberyn together is anything near this intoxicating, she would want to witness it every day.

Your own moan follows, loud but muffled by Margaery’s folds, as you feel Raeden’s fingers sliding along your own throbbing cunt. He loves to explore your body while you use your mouth on someone else – something you discovered quickly the first time you gave Ellaria pleasure – and this morning with his wife is no exception.

“I want to see you with her.” Margaery moans. “Would you fuck your soulmate in front of your wife?”

The question makes both you and Raeden pause, but with him naked beside you there is no question of the affect her request has on him. A spurt of precum drips from his cock into your shoulder and you grin wickedly. “I think he would enjoy that.”

She bites her lip and looks from you to her husband. The weight of the ring on her finger feels right and she spreads her legs wider. “Make me shake while my husband fills you with his cock.” She begs. “I want to see his seed drip from your cunt and taste it to see if it is sweet inside you.”

If any of you were ever unsure as to whether or not Margaery would fit into the dynamic you have established amongst yourselves – all of those concerns are dispelled in this moment. Raeden groans deeply and surges down again, plunging his tongue deep as his kisses her and sliding his fingers as far into your cunt as they will go to make you buck against his hand at the same time you moan into his wife’s pussy. It is a symphony of sin but it is so earnestly wanted by all of you. It could only be more perfect if Oberyn and Ellaria were here, the two of them disappearing into the other bedroom, and while they had invited him, he had wanted to stay in the main area in case you or Margaery needed him.

Your hips rock against his hand, impaling you on his thick fingers even as your own slide in and out of his wife. The squelching sounds are like music to your ears, and the hand that was previous at Margaery’s tits now plays with your own as Raeden lavishes hers with attention.

“Oh fuck.” She moans, enjoying the difference between the two sets of hands on her body. “Do you— is this what you do every day?”

“As often as we like,” Raeden rumbles, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “And you are welcome whenever you choose.”

“Ohhhhh oh gods.” The moans come out louder now, both the idea of having this anytime she wishes and the pure pleasure of your mouth on her sensitive cunt. “Yes.”

He seems as blissed out as she is even without having more than his hands involved, and you reluctantly pull away from Margaery’s glistening cunt to look up at him. “My love, your wife wishes to watch you fuck me,” you remind him, chest heaving at even the formation of the words on your tongue.

“Yes.” Raeden nods, aware that this is something special. The first time that the three of you are together like this. Hopefully not the last. He kisses her once more before he is shuffling behind you and wrapping his fingers around his cock. “Watch wife.” He orders Margaery.

His fingers are slick from being inside you and you moan from deep in your chest when he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and starts to push inside. Raeden’s tendency to be overly gentle with you has eased over the last few weeks, and especially in moments like this when you are so pliant and wet that you are literally dripping on the sheets.

“Fuuuuuuck.” Raeden grunts, rocking his hips until he is buried to be hilt inside you, his dark eyes fixed on his wife as she watches.

“Gods above.” Your groan echoes through Margaery’s body and vibrates deliciously through her wetness, but you have to tear your mouth away temporarily to catch your breath. “How will you take me for your wife, love? Will you be soft and sweet, or will you show her how I like to be made breathless?”

“I think I will show her how the princess likes to take her cocks.” Raeden decides with a grin and a wink to his wife before he leans over and kisses your spine.

That promise is immediately followed by the pulling back of his hips and having them slam forward again, emptying and filling your quivering cunt all in an instant and making you cry out into Margaery’s folds. Your fingers pick up speed with the determination of having Raeden fuck you, and you suck her clit into your mouth again with such enthusiasm that her cry echoes your own.

“Oh gods.” Margaery can feel the strength behind the thrust when your face pushes into her cunt harder than the normal pressure. Rocked forwards by his cock. “That cock is so good. I will need it harsh too, husband.”

“Whatever happened to ladies being delicate?” Raeden huffs, groaning as his hips connect with your ass again.

“None of us really are.” Margaery giggles and then moans when your tongue flutters around her clit. Making her grind down on your tongue.

“Men have been fed a lie,” he grouses good-naturedly, and he reaches out with one hand to grip your braid that Margaery has unpinned.

“Do you like to have your hair pulled?” Margaery asks you breathlessly.

Nodding makes the grip that Raeden has on your hair that much tighter, and your eyes flutter shut at the sensation before you open them again to look up at Margaery. "I cannot explain it, but I always enjoy pain with my pleasure."

“I want to try that.” Margaery moans and reaches up to twist her hand around her own braid.

The amused smile on your lips is mirrored by Raeden, and you shake your head at her. "You cannot do it yourself, lover," you tell her, reaching up and tangling your fingers tightly as high up in her braid as you can manage. "If you do not like it, tell me 'no' and I will stop."

“Yes.” She nods and moans as she moves her head and makes her scalp tug.

Seeing the way her eyes roll back at the slight pressure of the tug, you pull harder and more sharply, elated when the sounded you are gifted with is an ecstatic moan. "Yes?" You ask, letting her braid go slack so you can tug again, just as sharply.

“Yes!” She cries out and her cunt clenches around your fingers. She can’t believe that it feels so good and makes her entire body shake with pleasure.

"My wife and my soulmate may be more alike than they know." Raeden rasps out, grunting out another thrust and tugging at your braid as you pull on Margaery's. "Make her cum, my love. I want to see the moment she falls apart for you."

“Ohhhhh fuck.” The curse falls from Margaery’s lips easily as she shamelessly grinds down on your fingers. “Would— would that be so bad?” She manages.

"Not at all." As Raeden pounds you deeper and harder into Margaery's pussy he bends over to bite your shoulder and groans at the sight in front of him. "You will both be fucked into the mattress at every opportunity."

“That sounds perfect.” She moans, one hand drifting to her own breast. She wonders if she could have whomever she wanted at any time, or if there was some unspoken rule. She doesn’t doubt that she would need to give Raeden his heir before she sleeps with another man, but she is eager to experience the legendary Red Viper between her thighs.

Any kind of conversation dissolves again when Raeden pulls your hair sharply and you pull Margaery's in response, and the room becomes a renewed symphony of moans. There is nothing you want more in this moment that to hear the ecstasy that will come from your friend's lips when she cums for you, so you curl your fingers against the place inside her that will make her scream and redouble your efforts.

Now her breath comes out in ragged gasps, watching as her breathtaking husband slams into you eagerly, his own groans making her cunt clench around your fingers. The scene is enough to make her keen and the quick, cleverness of your fingers quickly pushes Margaery over the edge with a very unladylike yell.

There is something truly intoxicating in being the middle of this encounter. Knowing that it was not only your skill but Raeden’s passion which sends Margaery over the edge and has her clenching down in your fingers with such eagerness that her body might try to envelop your entire hand. It leaves you wishing under Raeden’s Powerful thrusts, moaning and grinding back against him as you lap up every drop of cum from her slit.

It is hard for Margaery to keep her eyes open, but she is determined to watch him cum. Seeing if he makes you squeal like she had last night with his gentler touch. His fingertips dig into your hips, sure to leave marks that last days, and it is the powerful need behind them along with one more well-timed thrust that has you tearing away from Margaery’s body to cry his name for all to hear. The insistent throbbing of your body between his and hers is unending, rolling through you so you can neither seem to stop the continuous feeling of peak pleasure or even catch your breath. It is magnificently exhausting, and Raeden is still fucking into you with erratic force.

He gets to have you. It is still a wonder to him, made even more precious by the fact that his wife is watching him fuck you, her hands still cupping and massaging her tits while she catches her breath. He gets to have it all, and it’s making his thrusts slap even harder than he’s ever fucked you.

A half dozen more pumps of his hips against your ass and Raeden is choking on his own groans, trying to call both of your names at once and ending up alternating between them as he pulls you tight against him and nearly collapses onto your back.

Margaery hums. A little chuckle in her throat as Raeden rolls you onto your side, protective of the babe in your belly. She had been told about the child and is very happy for you, actually eager for her own time. Now, she pushes to her knees and leans over to kiss you both.

“You do not mind your own taste?” Your thumb swipes under her bottom lip, wiping away a smudge of her own slick that came from your mouth. Some do and some do not. It would be another delightful development if Margaery did not, as you find it quite indulgent.

“No, I want to drink it from your lips.” She coos, kissing you again and then Raeden before she smirks. Slowly sliding down to drag her tongue over your nipple and biting down on it gently. “Right now, I want to taste my husband’s cock still inside your cunt. Lick you both up.”

There is a voice in the back of your head that knows Oberyn is going to be thrilled with Margaery’s curiosity and desire to explore her own sexuality, and that Ellaria’s approval will be near instant as well. “Enjoy yourself, my darling,” you hum, snuggles up in Raeden’s arms and spread for her to enjoy.

Raeden’s eyes widen when his wife, the wicked smirk pleasantly plastered on her face, starts to move down your body. Fixed on the sight, his spent cock twitches inside you. “Wife, you fit this group more than you know.” He rasps out.

“Better than I did, at the beginning,” you admit with a soft sigh when one of Margaery’s long fingers strokes your folds.

“I cannot imagine that to be true.” She scoffs. “I am lucky you are so accommodating.” She looks back up at you as she scoops some of the thick, creamy cum up from the base of her husband’s cock.

“You are a wonder,” you correct, relaxing even more under her touch.

She hums, accepting the compliment, although she knows she is receiving much more from this arrangement than you are. Her fingers slide into her mouth and she moans at the musky, salty taste. “Delightful.”

“He is even better when you taste him from the source.” The encouragement is met with a groan from your soulmate, and he kisses along your shoulder as Margaery lowers her mouth to the place you are still connected. It is her first time being with another woman, tasting another woman and it seems like she is diving into it. Luxuriating in the freedom and encouragement she is getting, her tongue flutters around your clit like she had felt you do to her and then down to her husband’s cock.

“Fuck.” The appreciative groan from Raeden makes you grin in his arms when you turn to kiss him. “Your wife is a fast learner,” you hum, breath hitching when her tongue flicks over your clit again.

“She is.” Raeden hums with pride, “Very good. The gods blessed us when they brought us together.”

"Such praise, my darling." Looking down your body to where Margaery is indulging her seemingly endless curiosities in your bodies, you grip her hair in your fingers again and tug just sharply enough to make her moan. "You deserve every word of it."

She hums and preens under the praise. Feeling her cheeks heat up at the words when she should be shocked at what she is doing. There is no embarrassment. Nothing but pleasure and curiosity.

"How does your husband taste from my cunt?" As filthy as the words are, they're languid. Relaxed and indulgent. You are as curious for the answer as she is for the taste, if you are honest with yourself.

“Like ambrosia.” Margaery moans, flicking up another taste of the two of you so she can come to let you taste for yourself.

When she unfurls her tongue into your kiss it is an extension of that gorgeous indulgence, and you hum deeply as you wrap her up in your arms. "I think you might be far more eager for this arrangement than you first thought," you grin knowingly.

“I think I am.” She grins as she slides her finger down your cheek. “I am very proud to be Lady Sunstone.”

______

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raspberryfingers · 1 year

Text

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 1)

A/N: and so my rewrite/editing begins :)

WARNINGS: None

Word Count: 5k

—————

It was midnight when Lord Petyr Baelish came to me with his unforgettable offer. I had been upset about it too, for it was the second time I’d seen him in less than three days. One can only spend so much time around Littlefinger without going insane, especially at such a late hour.

I had been half asleep when he’d arrived, hunched over the table and trying desperately to figure out what offense we were going to take. I wasn’t alone, either. Loras and Margaery had been with me too, with him as my opposition and her as our mediator. My younger brother was mad with grief over Renly’s death, I knew, and so hungry for revenge was he that he could not stop and think logically. Margaery was aware of that fact too, and she was trying her very hardest to soothe him.

“Stannis approaches King’s Landing now, and we sit here and do nothing. The only thing we did was flee. We left for Highgarden and let Stannis claim half of Renly’s bannermen without a fight!” Loras shouted, joining me at the table and pointing his finger at the map with a sort of accusation. I sighed, rubbing my eyes and rolling up the sleeves of my nightgown. Both my sister and I were in our nightwear, but Loras had not removed his armor in days, it seemed. He had hardly slept or bathed. Which was unfortunate, because I dearly wished he would.

“Stannis would have claimed those men no matter what, Loras, we’ve been over this. It was not Renly they cared for, it was his just rule and his ‘claim’, which was never good to begin with. Would you have men die to put a corpse on the throne? There is nothing we could have done!”

“(Y/N)!”

Margaery gave me a somewhat disappointed look, and I knew it was admittedly wrong of me to mention Renly’s death so harshly, but what choice did I have? Being gentle had not worked with my brother, and I needed him to understand that as the head of the Tyrell army, my decisions were not to be questioned.

“It doesn’t mean that we needed to flee… we ought to have stayed and killed Stannis,” Loras muttered defeatedly, falling back into a chair and staring at nothing. There was an unmistakable hurt in his eyes. If I’d ever lost a lover, perhaps I would’ve known—or at the very least understood it.

I softened a bit, however, and stepped over to Loras. I held the back of his head, running my fingers through his brown curls and leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“We will take revenge on Stannis, brother. I promise you that.”

Loras said nothing, but I felt him relax under my touch, and it seemed that my words had also soothed him a bit. I had not entirely worked out how we would take revenge, but that was something I wished to think on when I wasn’t entirely sleep deprived. Though, that would certainly be difficult to do if Stannis managed to take King’s Landing.

“Lady (Y/N), Lord Petyr Baelish is here to see you!” Ser Elias called from the other side of my door. He had been my personal guard since I was a girl, but I had forbidden him to join the fighting since his wife was pregnant with their first child. Now that we were back at Highgarden though, he was once again by my side.

Margaery and I gave each other a cautious glance, obviously both wondering what Littlefinger was doing here at such an hour. We had seen him right before we’d left Renly’s camp, and even then he had been going on about ‘wanting to help us.’ Whatever reason he had, it better have been damn good to intrude at nearly midnight.

“Let him in.”

Ser Elias opened the door, and sure enough there was Baelish. Gods, I would never be able to tolerate that man. He stepped into the room with a sort of satisfaction, and it made me deeply uncomfortable. There were very few things I hated more than discomfort.

“Lady (Y/N), Lady Margaery. Ser Loras,” Lord Baelish greeted in his low, scratchy voice. I found myself giving him a curt nod, though I was utterly annoyed by and wary of his presence. His hands were folded in front of his stomach, waiting to deliver some news surely.

“Baelish. What brings you to Highgarden at such a late hour?” I inquired, not bothering to hide my annoyance. There was no reason to, anyways. The man had dared to call on me at this time of night.

“Ah, yes. I apologize for my late arrival. I’ve been riding since noon to get here. I bring news—or rather, an offer—from Harrenhal,” he informed, beginning to grin when my eyes went wide. There was only one Lord occupying Harrenhal right now, and the thought of him made my blood boil. “Lord Tywin has formally extended the offer of an alliance. House Tyrell has not declared for any king. Any living king, at least. I know that Renly Baratheon was rather… close to your family,” Littlefinger noted, glancing over at Loras as the insinuation slipped from his tongue. My brother was just as infuriated as I was now, and he rose from his seat with an overwhelming anger.

“You will watch your tongue, Littlefinger. If you wish to keep it, at any rate. You will not mock my brother and you certainly will not mock me by insinuating that I ought to be an ally to Tywin Lannister,” I scowled, my clenched fist pushing against the wood of the table so I would refrain from using it. Margaery had rushed to Loras and was trying to soothe him. It thankfully seemed to be working.

“Apologies, my lady. I did not mean to offend. Lord Tywin is serious upon this subject. I know that the two of you… have a rather troubled history, but it should not prevent an alliance between two great houses,” he said, still grinning rather creepily. I wondered if he was capable of being normal.

I shook my head vehemently.

“Nothing in all seven hells could convince me to go anywhere near that man.”

It was complicated—my relationship with Lord Tywin Lannister, I mean. For I was a firm believer that vows were a sacred thing, and not in the same, honorable way that Ned Stark had, but in a personal way. If one vows something to themselves, they ought not to break it. When I was 14 years old, I had made such a vow. And gods, even just the memory of what had prompted it infuriated me.

—————

My father, gods bless his stomach, had been eating on nearly the entire ride to Casterly Rock, even despite the tossing of our wheelhouse. My grandmother and I had watched him with a mutual disgust, pausing our conversation whenever he began to chew too obnoxiously.

My mother had stayed behind with Margaery, who was only seven and still a bit too young for such a long carriage ride. Loras, already 12, had opted to stay behind with Margaery so she would not feel lonely. I wished I’d been able to stay behind too, because although my father paraded this as some ‘exploration’ of my worldly knowledge, I knew perfectly well that it was in reality an attempt to find me someone’s son to marry. My grandmother had known this too, and I was grateful she had not let me come alone with only my father.

I was consoled by the fact that Casterly Rock was our first visit, though. History had always been a favorite subject of mine, and this of course included all the great houses. In my opinion, Casterly Rock would’ve been the ideal place to live had I not been from Highgarden. Of course, there was nothing that could ever beat Highgarden, with its ripe smelling summers and expansive hedge maze. I could no longer count how many times Loras and I had chased each other through it with sparring swords in our hands. I always beat him, the fool.

But Casterly Rock was said to be magnificent, even taller than the wall and certainly much richer. I wanted to see Lannisport, too. I was certain that I could find a more suitable sword for my age, as the nearby mines were not only abundant with gold. Because along with my immense studies, both my mother and grandmother had insisted that I be trained in fighting. That had been allowed quite begrudgingly by my father, but eventually he came to recognize what the women in my family had already noticed. I was a rather energetic child, and I’d always been sharp intellectually. So much so that they struggled finding Maesters and Septas who wouldn’t bore me.

The point of that, however, was that those two things combined had provided a natural talent with a sword. And it was not that I did not know how to sing, dance, or sew, it was merely that fighting had suited me better. At 14, I was certainly no legend, but it was clear that if I continued to practice, then perhaps I would be. That thought had sparked much excitement in my mind, and arguably a bit too much of an ego. I did not agree with that statement, however.

Regardless, one thing was certain. My grandmother had promised me a new sword for my recently passed nameday, and I hoped to find the weapon in Lannisport. I could already picture its shiny iron blade with a golden handle. Though, I secretly wished that I could convince her to invest in two daggers instead, for they were easier to handle and much easier to hide.

These thoughts all disappeared when the wheelhouse began to slow, however. I immediately reached over toward the window, sliding the cover to the side and peaking through the gap. I instantly began to smile, looking back at my grandmother with unbridled joy.

“I know you’re excited, dear, but you must calm yourself. Lord Tywin won’t tolerate you acting giddy, and you’re certainly old enough to know better,” my grandmother whispered, grabbing at my arm and leaning toward me. I swallowed, nodding and trying to suppress whatever feelings I was having. Tywin Lannister had no face in my mind, he was the kind of man that nobody bothered physically describing because how he looked was of no importance. The Lord of Casterly Rock was ruthless, cold, and calculating. And apparently it had been even worse since his wife died.

When I tried to conjure him up in my head, nothing came. He would be blonde, I knew, with blue or green eyes. I expected his hair would be starting to lighten with age too, for he was about 51 now if my math was correct—which it was not, he was actually 55. But other than that, I had no clue what to expect. Surely a man with such a description and reputation would be tall, right?

Though, I was of the opinion that while Tywin Lannister could certainly be ruthless, he was no military genius. He had not even participated in Robert’s Rebellion, instead merely waiting to claim victory at the end and then marry his daughter to the new king. A lion ought to be brave, I felt, not cowardly.

The wheelhouse finally came to a stop, and I swallowed when the door was pulled open. Ser Elias had smiled at me then, and it had soothed my nerves. I was glad that he had come too, for I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. He was 27, approximately 13 years older than me, and for that reason he was like an older brother to me. Perhaps he was even like a father, for the gods knew I did not think much of my actual one.

Once my father and grandmother had exited, Ser Elias helped me down from the small steps and whispered ‘my lady’ under his breath. I was met with Casterly Rock in all its glory once I had stepped onto the ground outside. The Lion’s Mouth, or the entrance to the castle, was magnificent. And once we had actually gone inside my bewilderment only increased. It seemed that each room in The Rock was lined with gold, and that each hall must be grander than the last. Highgarden was beautiful in a natural way, but I had never seen such a display of pure wealth before.

I’d zoned out practically the entire time we were walking, and at some point I’d gotten so distracted by the interior that I had seemingly been left behind. I wasn’t sure how I’d ended up where I had, but either way when I’d turned around nobody familiar was there.

In an attempt to find my family, I’d begun searching the halls. They seemed practically never ending, and I was beginning to feel a deep panic set within me. I was trying very hard to be rational, but it’s a difficult thing to do when you feel utterly lost. My breath had begun to pick up its pace, and my nerves were now unbearable.

However, in this desperate attempt to locate my family, I had been opening and closing various doors, which led me to stumble upon a grand study. My breath hitched when I saw it through the doorway, and suddenly my quest was abandoned. I couldn’t have kept myself from entering, no matter how hard I’d tried, for something about the space had instantly compelled me.

With two large, gorgeous windows overlooking the sea, the room was filled with natural light. The red drapes were drawn open, and it went well with the stone walls. There were all sorts of things displayed around the room, but my favorite of them was the glorious sword placed above the hearth. I found myself wandering towards it like a moth to a flame.

Staring at it, I realized it was almost exactly what I wanted in a sword. The blade was magnificent, and its handle was covered in gold. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen such intricate details on a weapon either, which only excited me even further.

There was a sudden padding of footsteps behind me, and when I turned around I found a somewhat older gentleman walking into the room with two papers in his hands. He was holding one and reading the other, and it took him a few seconds to look up and notice me. When he did, he instantly stopped walking. His hands did not drop, but he observed me just as thoroughly as I had been observing him.

The man was quite tall, about 6,3 if I had to guess. His hair had some white, and so did his beard. The white was only in certain streaks, though, as if somebody had made a conscious effort to paint it that way. His clothes had also stricken me as odd, for he was dressed entirely in black. It made me wonder if perhaps this man had just experienced some sort of loss, for he was certainly dressed like a mourner. I also noticed that the fabric was expensive, and I felt confident that this man was a lord of some kind. But that was odd too, for no nobles had passed away recently. I would’ve heard about it.

“Who are you, girl?”

His voice caught me off guard, knocking me from my thoughts simply with its sheer deepness. My eyes widened a bit, almost as though I’d just remembered I was standing there and he could see me.

“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell, my lord,” I answered quickly, giving him the best curtsy I could muster in such a thrown state. I had no clue what it was, but this man had instantly captured my attention. Especially with his piercing blue eyes.

“And how do you know I’m a lord?” he questioned, stacking his two papers in his hands and setting them down on the table beside him. I swallowed, nodding toward him—or rather his clothes.

“The fabric of your coat. It’s very nice. The quality is fitting for a lord,” I reasoned, and for a moment I expected him to look down at the coat. But no, he did not; his eyes remained on me.

“Rather observant of you. Why are you in here?”

“I’m afraid I got lost, my lord. My family- well, we were being shown around and I suppose I became distracted. I was attempting to find my grandmother and father.”

“And you ended up here?”

“Yes, my lord. I was looking at the sword- the sword above the hearth.”

I motioned to the weapon above the fireplace and turned to look at it again. The older man finally tore his eyes away from me and observed the blade with me. He nodded slowly with a contemplative ‘hm’ as he did. He was hard to read, and I didn’t like that. Usually I was quite good at reading people.

“That sword was my fathers,” he revealed, walking over and standing beside me as we looked up at it. An air of parchment and wax—along with the scent of expensive oils—came from him, and I knew instantly that this man spent hours upon hours at his desk. Was this his office? Realizing he had just mentioned that the sword belonged to his father, I made the connection. I was speaking to Tywin Lannister, surely.

I looked at him again, and I realized that while I had predicted the strands of white in his hair, and the blue eyes, I had not expected him to be anything like this. Yes, some of his questions towards me had been rash and rather curt, but the man had just found a girl in his office. Why shouldn’t he be a bit alarmed?

Overall, though, he did not seem to be the heartless man that everyone had described. He was no nicer nor ruder than plenty of people, it seemed to me. Although, there was also a possibility I simply hadn’t gotten to know him.

“It’s gorgeous. The blade looks masterfully crafted, and I’ve never seen such a handle before. I would give anything for such a weapon,” I noted with utter adoration. I was beginning to wonder how I would ever be satisfied with a small, simply detailed sword when I had seen this. And when I say simply detailed, I merely mean that anything would appear simple in comparison.

“You use swords?” he asked, a sort of bewilderment in his voice as he did so. I nodded, only hesitating for a moment. Going about revealing this sort of thing would make me an unattractive bride, I knew, but perhaps that was not entirely bad.

“Yes, my lord, I do. I’ve become quite good, too,” I added with a sort of prideful smile. He was looking down at me, and after blinking a few times he glanced away and fixed his eyes on the sword once more.

“I can’t say I’ve met many noble ladies who know how to use weapons. I’m surprised your father allowed it,” he remarked, folding his hands behind his back now. I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head.

“My father did not want to allow it. My mother and grandmother wore him down, I’m afraid. They seemed to believe I had some natural talent for it,” I explained, which made him briefly smile. It had come and gone within a single second, but I had not missed it. Was I speaking to Tywin Lannister?

“And do you think that too? That you have a natural talent?” he questioned, raising his brow at me. I smiled with my lips as my pride took hold of me.

“I certainly do. My brother is only two years younger than me but he’s nowhere near as good. He’s better at jousting, I suppose. It’s never really interested me,” I told him, not entirely sure why I felt so comfortable revealing such things to a man whose name I was not even sure of.

“I see. I have three brothers, two of which are far more athletic and reckless than I would like. The other is far more reasonable, and thankfully trusts me just as much as I trust him,” he informed, making me wrack my brain. I had paid plenty of attention during my lessons, but how was I supposed to remember how many siblings which lord had?

“Only brothers?” I inquired, hoping maybe he would reveal something more.

“No. One sister, Genna. She is far too much for me sometimes, but I care very much for her regardless.”

Genna sounded familiar, I realized. Yes, Genna was one of Tytos Lannister’s children, and obviously so was this man. But was it Tywin or Kevan? It had to be one of those two, for reckless and athletic did not fit them based on what I had heard. Perhaps this was actually Kevan, for he had been much nicer than I ever imagined Tywin Lannister would be.

“My lord, may I… may I ask for your name?” I had licked my lips nervously as I’d said it, and it made me uncomfortable. I was not used to feeling nervous.

“Who do you think I am?” he replied, making even more dread fill me. He had this sort of testing look in his eyes, and I could tell he was utterly intrigued by what I would say next.

“You are a son of Tytos, I know that much. But I- I can’t quite figure- are you the Lord Kevan Lannister?” I finally asked, attempting to dance around it but deciding that I ought to just say it. The man somehow showed absolutely no reaction to my guess.

“No, I am not.”

It was all he said, and I knew then that I was in fact speaking to Tywin Lannister. Even more nerves filled me, somehow. He was the same man I’d been talking to for the last ten minutes or so, but that name was so… well, how is one supposed to feel when they’re talking to Tywin Lannister?

“Apologies, Lord Tywin. I thought that perhaps… well, it was between you and Kevan,” I attempted to explain, although I didn’t want to outright say that he was ‘too nice’ to be the man I’d heard of.

“No need to apologize, Lady Tyrell,” he said genuinely, helping me relax just a little bit. I nodded, looking around because I feared that meeting his eyes right now might make my cheeks go hot. Noticing a map laid out on a table, I decided to avert my attention to that. It was huge, and showed all of Westeros.

Lord Tywin seemingly noticed my interest, for he took a few steps toward it and motioned for me to join him. I did so wordlessly, admiring all the details of it. Of course, I knew quite well all the different parts of each kingdom, but there was a level of detail on this map that I had never seen before.

“Is it just swords that interest you, or battle too?” he wondered aloud, observing my reaction to the map. Standing over it made me feel like a strategist, and I couldn’t resist the urge to lean over it, my hands planted firmly on the table.

“Battle too. I’ve always liked history… I suppose being good with swords and enjoying history naturally leads to that. I hope- I hope that my father will make me the head of the Tyrell army once I’m old enough. It ought to go to my brother, but…” I trailed off, sighing. It was probably a hopeless dream unless my grandmother managed to persuade the man.

“Perhaps you’re more well suited for it. If you’ve studied battle and are better with a sword than he is, the role ought to go to you.”

“Even though I’m a woman?”

“I’ve found that women often make much better decisions than men do. My wife… I frequently sought her advice. Hers and Kevans. If your father is smart, he’ll choose a qualified child to lead his armies. The worst thing you can do is put an incompetent person in charge of one, especially when it’s as large as yours,” Lord Tywin said, making a glimmer of hope emerge inside of me. Did he truly think that? Tywin Lannister was nothing like everyone made him out to be.

“I suppose it’s the only thing I truly want. This trip is entirely for the purpose of marrying me off to some first son or other… but I- well, I can’t say that interests me very much,” I explained to him, unable to resist a sigh. If I had been born a man there wouldn’t have been any doubts.

“I see. Tell me, Lady Tyrell, if you were commander of the Tyrell army, what would you do?” he questioned, perhaps wondering if there was some grand reason that I desired to be in charge so badly.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t do what you did during Robert’s Rebellion,” I jested, though the moment that it came out of my mouth I regretted it. Something in Lord Tywin instantly changed, and suddenly he wasn’t the man I had been conversing with. His eyes had both darkened and narrowed, and his posture had gone stiff.

“And do what instead? You would’ve had me take Aerys' side just as your father did?” he asked, clearly insulting the fact that my family had stayed loyal to the Targaryens. I scowled despite the fact that I did wish my father would’ve chosen Robert’s side. It was not as if Lord Tywin deserved a say.

“At least my father took a side. Meanwhile, you remained at Casterly Rock waiting to see who would emerge victorious so you wouldn’t look bad no matter what happened,” I scoffed, suddenly becoming defiant. Who was this man to think that somehow everything he did was perfectly normal and acceptable even when it was not? Who was he to think that the codes of honor and war weren’t applicable?

“Tell me this, girl, why should I have involved myself in a war that started because Rhaegar Targaryen decided to behave stupidly? Was I supposed to feel some sense of duty to Lyanna Stark? She was a girl no older than you, and yet you seem to believe that somehow I should’ve been eager to call the banners,” he scoffed, his voice low and warning. I wondered if I was the first person to challenge him upon this subject.

“I am not suggesting that you ought to have been eager, but you should have done it regardless,” I reprimanded, my face growing increasingly hot. I wanted to calm myself, but this man had become infuriating in a way I was unfamiliar with. He was difficult. He spoke as though he was all knowing and I was some stupid, clueless child. I was nothing like that.

“And again, I ask you, would you have had me side with Aerys? The man who insulted my wife repeatedly, named my eldest son to the kingsguard, and refused to marry our children despite it being a perfectly good match? No man alive would bear that slight. And why should I have joined King Robert? House Targaryen had reigned for 300 years, and there was nothing about Robert Baratheon that suggested his rebellion would be any different from the countless that had preceded it,” Lord Tywin explained, and there was a tone in his voice that suggested he was laughing at me. Well, Tywin Lannister did not laugh. Not anymore, they said.

But that did not keep him from mocking.

“If that was truly your opinion, then you ought to have simply not joined the war at all. But you cheated, Lord Tywin. If you hadn’t joined the war at all, you only would’ve been a coward. Instead you joined when it suited you and became a cheat and a coward,” I snapped with a sort of conviction. No excuse he would make might convince me otherwise.

“You are a fool, girl. If you truly believe that fighting in wars is honorable, I pray that your father never makes the mistake of putting you in charge of House Tyrell’s army. I did what was best for House Lannister. That is not cheating, nor does it make me a coward. I protected and provided for my family, just as any smart man would. And even if you are utterly stupid I don’t believe anyone so dumb as to not understand that,” he scowled, taking another step toward me and towering over my frame. I was too confident and too self assured to be frightened. Not only that, but there was no hope of containing my anger now. I had liked being called stupid just as much as he had liked being called a coward. Though, a girl of 14 expresses that anger much differently than a man of 55. At least, one would hope.

“I am not stupid! You just don’t like hearing criticism because you cannot stand the fact that you aren’t entirely untouchable! I am not like the cowardly men who quiver at your feet, Lord Tywin. I know better now, for the man before me is not the fearsome and powerful man that I had heard so much about. You are nothing but a bitter and cruel coward that somehow thinks he deserves respect. I assure you, Lord Tywin, that when I get that army I will command it better than you have ever commanded yours,” I hissed at him, volume rising with my anger. In a matter of minutes, the man who I had originally believed to be Kevan Lannister was now the most disgusting person I’d ever met. It somehow infuriated me even further that he had deceived me in that way, for I had been vulnerable in front of this awful man. It was a lesson, I supposed.

“Get. Out.”

Those two words were the only thing that came from him, but there was clearly an even deeper anger inside of him. I could see it in his blue eyes, now having turned to utter ice. He was clearly unaccustomed to this ‘disrespect’, and it was a wonder that he held his tongue. He did not want to start another war over a 14 year old girl, I suspected.

Either way, I did as he asked with a final scowl and hot glare. I truthfully had no desire to see or speak to this man ever again, and I felt certain that our trip would be cut short. I was correct, of course. The moment that my father and grandmother heard of what had happened from Lord Tywin, they—and by they, I mean my father alone—apologized profusely. It was an awkward scenario that had unfortunately arisen because I refused to tell them what had happened.

I would never forget the carriage ride back to Highgarden. My father had been so furious he had opted to ride separate from us. My grandmother alternatively tried to be more reasonable, but it did little good to an angry 14 year old.

“I can admit that Lord Tywin is not exactly pleasant company, (Y/N), but I cannot understand what has infuriated the two of you so deeply. Both of you behaved like children if you ask me,” she scoffed, placing her hand over her cup so her wine wouldn’t spill as we hit a bumpy spot. I refused to look at her, only looking out the window. She grabbed my face then, forcing me to turn my head.

“(Y/N), if you refuse to make amends or at least apologize to Lord Tywin, your father is never going to make you head of the army. Even if I think that the Lord of Casterly Rock deserved to be told off for once, it has caused Mace considerable embarrassment. Show him that you aren’t just a little girl and that you’re mature enough to handle the responsibility of an army. It’s not just leading men that matters, my dear. It’s being able to find common ground, too,” my grandmother continued, taking another offense. I did consider her words, and for much longer than I normally would’ve when I was angry, but it still did not produce any major breakthrough for me. Not at 14, anyways.

“Be honest, grandmother. All that father wants is to put Loras in charge. If I am going to do something to convince him that I deserve our army, it’s going to be on my own terms. I refuse to be like him, acquiescing to ‘better’ men. Only men can afford to be weak in this world, and you know that. No, I will not apologize to or compromise with Lord Tywin,” I said, huffing out with a sort of determination. A fire came into my eyes then, and even if I had not noticed it, my grandmother certainly had. “In fact, I will take it a step further. Not only do I refuse to apologize to that insufferable cunt, but I vow, grandmother. I vow that I will hate Tywin Lannister for the rest of my life.”

My grandmother remained silent in response to my claim, and when I realized that she was not going to reply, I merely sighed and looked out the window once more. She may have thought I was being dramatic in my anger, but I knew that my statement was truthful. I would hate that man until my dying day, and there was nothing that would ever change that.

#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #a lion in the garden #charles dance #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #house lannister #house tyrell

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lunarmoonanons · 1 year

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Yandere Husbands prt 2

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Second and final part. Now I don’t know anything about most of these characters since I’m not a book reader, so I won’t be doing Doran, Arthur, or Gerald.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Aeys 2

x sister reader

YN was the twin of Rhaella Targaryen, but unlike her twin she and Aerys had gotten along quite well. She’d read to him as he practiced his sword stances, he’d talk on and on about his aspirations to be knighted, and they’d dream about their futures. YN did also get along with her twin Rhaella, the two having nothing but good things to say about the other. Rhaella was the one to tell her first about her love for Ser Bonifer Hasty, YN was certain that if they asked their grandfather he’d allow her to marry her love. But it wasn’t to last, as their father believed that the prince who was promised would come from Aerys and Rhaella’s line. Aerys protested, demanding that he instead marry YN and they at least liked each other. YN held her twin in her arms as Rhaella sobbed, her own heart slightly breaking. But she complied, they all did. Stefan and Tywin offered sympathies but insisted they must all do their duty. The wedding was a somber affair.

After the disaster at Summerhall and the birth of her nephew Rhaegar, Aerys approached YN. Saying that he still loved her and wanted to be with her, but YN pushed him away. He was married to her twin and she would not cause undue humiliation to her sister by indulging in his desires, and besides she was betrothed to a dornish prince. Finishing off her rejection with “You have an heir now, let me go to have children.” But he would not. One day, Rhaella was found dead in her chambers, her baby crying out for its mother. YN suspected poison but had no proof. When the question of marriage came up, Aerys demanded his father marry his sister to him. It wasn’t until 262ac, when their father died did Aerys get his wish. Despite the protests from Tywin, Nobles, and YN.

As king no one would deny him. YN was afraid of her brother now, doing her best to watch over her nephew, now stepson, for her sister Rhaella. The law by Queen Alysanne years ago made it so that the heirs from the first marriage would not be disinherited by the second marriage. For the first years of his reign Aerys had the sense to listen to his hand. YN was grateful for Tywin, being able to be the realist to Aerys grand plans and ambitions. Yet as the years went on, Aerys started to grow irritated at the sight of his wife being friendly with his hand. When YN was finally deemed pregnant, Aerys' paranoia grew. He wanted a healthy child. So he isolated YN from everyone, never letting her see the mistresses he took. One tried to slap away the moon tea offered, and Aerys strangled the woman to death. Eventually, Aerys' paranoia became very apparent. He was cocky and began to disregard advice from everyone, even YN. After her pregnancy, YN had given birth to a pale little boy Viserys lll, and he found himself in her bedroom not caring if she wanted it or not. YN’s nephew Rhaegar tried to defend her, but Aerys would slap the boy away. By the time Duskendale was stirring trouble, YN was forced to birth 5 children. Three of which were miscarried due to Aerys rough behavior with her. Tywin tried to step in once but backed away. YN was always grateful for him, but in the end there was nothing that could stop Aerys from having her. One morning after Aerys had been on top of her all night, he mentioned he was going to duskendale YN tried to say that it was a bad idea, but had unknowingly mentioned Tywin. She was met with a slap, he held her hair tight and kissed her hard.

“You are my sweet sister. If you mention his name again, I’ll have his burnt corpse presented to our children as a warning not to get between us.” YN hoped he would die in Duskendale.

Cregan Stark

(velaryon reader, just imagine maybe Laenor was able to do it once, so YN is the fraternal twin of Jaec)

Usually First Men descendants did not marry non first men, but Cregan wanted no one but the daughter of the princess. YN was the twin sister to Jaecerys Velaryon, unlike her brother she had darker skin and white hair. Cregan was enamored with the girl, but her beauty was only one layer. She also had a mouth on her, and could beat him at his own drinking games. After a month of bonding the boys swore an oath of brotherhood. Cregan and YN met under the weirwood tree, swearing love vows to each other. When it came to the issue of allegiance to The Queen, Rhaenyra, Cregan swore to her on condition that YN stay with him and one day marry him. Jaecerys and YN seemed to agree, as long as YN could do her part for her mother in the war. Her dragon Alaxys was eager to fly in the air.

During the Dance, YN flew point with her brother, and always returned back to the north. She seemed to like the cold more than the warm south. Her betrothed Cregan was always happy to have her back in her arms. He denied her almost nothing, except when she wanted to fight in the Battle of the Gullet and fly to Kings landing for her mother. Cregan had said no, practically holding her down when she ran for her dragon. He could not lose her. When she fought him, vowing that if he stopped her she’d hate him forever. At that he locked her in the warmest room, sitting outside the room hearing her sob and scream in agony. When the news of her brother's death came, YN screamed at Cregan calling him a traitor and a monster. But the death of her mother broke her, she became cold and angry. Stating to Cregan that she wanted to honor her oath, he was already planning to honor the north’s promise and took his betrothed south.

The hour of the wolf began with Alaxys landing in Kings landing with YN and Cregan on her back. The north remembered and the dragon burned with fury. Cregan spared no traitors, for the oath he held and for the love he had for his betrothed. YN was by her little brother’s side as Cregan delivered her vengeance. Alaxys burned the ones YN deemed deserving, Cregan took rest’s heads. When the hour of the wolf ended, YN was hesitant to leave her brother. Cregan reminded her of her vow to him, that they were fire and ice destined to be. She tried to reason that her brother needed her counsel as he was still a child, but his fingers dug deep into her arms. Vowing that he held no mercy for those who broke their oath. With much resistance, Cregan took her back to the north. Alaxys had spent so much time in the cold that she did not feel comfortable in the warmth of the south. They were married as soon as they returned north. It was a tumultuous marriage, full of love and fights. Sometimes YN would blame him for the death of her family, stating that he prevented her from saving them. He would lock her away in their rooms during those times. Eventually Cregan would not let others see her. They even had to fly together, as YN was not allowed to be in the air alone. Cregan enveloped her whole life, but the north remembered their vow of love, and he would not let her break it. She was bound to ice.

Rickard Stark

(Now I don’t know much about him other than the wiki stuff so please be kind)

YN did not notice the possession Rickard had for her. They were happily married for a long time, she gave him several children. During the time of Aerys ii reign, YN grew more fearful of the south. Not trusting that the Targaryens would keep away from the north. Her fears were proven to be true when the prince had stolen their daughter Lyanna. She begged her son Brandon not to venture south to retrieve her, but he was a Stark and he was loyal. The news of her son's imprisonment caused a great fury in her. The King in response, asked for her to come to the south.

Rickard wouldn’t let her go alone, so he placed the maester in charge as they both traveled down south. Once at the red keep, Rickard kept to the shadows as YN pleaded for the release of her children. The king put on the image of listening, but instead just stared at her body. He requested to meet her later in his office chambers, against her better judgment she did. Her husband hid in the shadows the whole time.

As soon as Aerys inevitably moved to assault her, Rickard emerged from the shadows and cut him down. The shocked shouts of his wife were drowned by his fury as he repeatedly brought the sword down onto his body. Damn his honor, his wife needed defending. YN tried to pull him off, but he pushed her away. When the king was unrecognizable, Rickard turned his blood soaked face to YN. She stepped back as he stepped forward, eventually she hit the bed shaking as he towered over her. He took on that bed, his own mad eyes shone with lusty glee. Adrenaline drowning out YN’s cries. He would be her king forever.

Eddard Stark

YN was Ned’s Second wife. Catelyn had passed giving birth to Sansa. YN was Ned’s first love, even if she did not view him that way. Her place was in Starfall, in the warmth of the south. But when Ned asked for her hand and YN refused, he locked them both in her room. He never laid a hand to her, but he went on and on about how she was abandoning him. That his children already had to grow without a birth mother, was she that cruel to deny them a second chance. He would have none but her, and if she would not have him then he would die. Did she want that? For his children to be fatherless as well? For him to die?

YN was broken down to eventually agree. So she was taken from her home to the cold north. She wanted to meet the children first but Ned spirited her away to their shared room. Not wasting any time to bed his lady. Once he was certain she was to carry his seed, he allowed her to leave the room. The children seemed uneasy around her at first, but her calming nature was like a balm to their grief. Unlike Catelyn before her, YN also included Jon in all her activities with the children. Of all the children Jon grew the closest. He looked so much like Ned, that Ned would seem overjoyed that the two were bonded.

Eventually YN got pregnant, the baby draining so much energy from her. But little Arya was so worth the wait. YN thought that since the baby girl drained her so she could rest a bit before another. But Ned wouldn’t have that. He wanted her pregnant almost always. After Rickon, YN begged to be given rest but he called her heartless to deny her children siblings. That she was preventing new life from being born. YN’s life mostly consisted of being pregnant and barefoot. When the King arrived to call for Ned, YN hoped he would take a position as Hand but he denied him. The queen pitied YN, and mused to herself that maybe her marriage was not as bad. Pregnancy after Pregnancy, YN Dayne was exhausted out of life.

Stannis Baratheon

(I’m not a fan of this guy so don’t expect much)

YN was married to a much older man. Stannis had already had a child, so YN believed she was in the clear for having children. But his red priestess told the would be king that their child would be a champion of light. One night YN was met with the image of her towering husband. SHe tried to ask him to leave, but Stannis grabbed her and forced her on the bed. Telling her it would be alright, that their child would be a champion, all the while ignoring her cried to stop. When it was over he rubbed her stomach and promised that their baby would be stronger than him.

Oberyn Martell

YN did not believe that a her, a Lannister, would be betrothed to Oberyn Martell. A staunch lannister hater, and a sexual fiend if you asked her mother. But her uncle was Tywin, and he had final say in the family. So she was sent south.

Oberyn promised that he would be a gentle husband. That he did not blame her for the actions of her uncle, but the stares of the others could not calm her fears. It was like they either pitied her for her situation, or only glared at her blonde hair. Oberyn's children all flocked to her, sweet and kind little things. YN decided to make her situation as best as she could. Her husband had copious lovers, maybe she could find one. She tried to tell Oberyn.

“If you wish to be false to me, I will kill any man or woman who looks your way.” He whispered to her, holding her shaking body. “You are mine now. If you want me to get rid of my infidelity, fine. But I will not let another Lannister bring pain to me. Even If I loved them.”

Tag list:

@gulnarsultan

#house targaryen #house stark #house baratheon #house martell #aerys 2 #yandere aerys ii #yandere cregan #yandere ned #yandere stannis #yandere oberyn #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #yandere game of thrones #asoiaf #yandere

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themotherofblood · 2 years

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Feel a little More

Tywin Lannister x Reader

Tears of Gold AU

A/N: Imagine Dany’s dress when she was presented to Drogo but in red, and instead of metal dragon pins they are golden lions.

tw: hands tied, manhandling, breeding kink, slight condescending Tywin but in a sexy way. overstim!!! cockwarming.

Ps. Aftercare scenes are a must for me!!

The hour of the owl held a certain anticipation, warmth and content in your heart. It brought you hours of unfiltered and honest moments of your marriage, whether it be a conversation, an argument or the pleasures of the flesh. These four walls were sacred to you, they protected you. That was the complexity of your union, to be in a loveless or unaffectionate marriage was one thing, being in marriage of intertwined souls was another. But the relentless mirage making that came with what you and your husband had was tiresome at best. To the rest of the world, your marriage was respected, Tywin protected you and you bore him heirs; that was it.

In the shadow of these walls however, your fear and yearning for one another ran wild, though Tywin was better at managing it, yours was in the testament of your duties as a wife. Here you sat in a yet another dress, sheer to the skin that clung to your body. A soft material against your goosebumped skin, and the cool metal of the lion pins against your shoulders. The sheer red material, exposed parts of you. Just enough to make a man want the rest of you but not quite give him the full gist of it. It was different than a trousseau, or perhaps a laced corset. More Essoi, in the fashion of seduction but you’d been rather open minded to most things that occurred in the bedroom.

You’d laid with your husband more times than you had fingers to count on, you’d birthed his children and he watched the blood flow from your core as his heir graced the world. Though every time his eyes raked down your body, a certain nervousness filled your senses. Like a lion anointing it’s prey before making the kill, it was silent and masterful. Just the way your husband loves you, a respectful and practical way. While you had been the nick of a dramatic lover beforehand, demanding of stars and dragons, his love towards you taught you to love better. To love within reason, and that love is stronger. It reminds you, each passing day that it could all wash away within a blink of an eye. Which made you desperate to love him harder, and to not mask any of your hearts wanton desires.

The handmaidens that dressed you took their leave, they were quite quick with it, changing you and getting your hair undone. Preparing you for your husband. You had moved around the room thrice, first you had picked the seating by the hearth, the second time- your bed and the third was the varenda. Long before circling back to the bedroom, you waited as your senses were shot to shit. You’d heard him coming before you saw him, his crafted boots crooned at the corridor of the tower before the door to your room creaked open. Your eyes met the green of your husband’s. Who still sported that same irked frown from earlier but one corner of his lip curled from seeing the ensemble you were in

You stood in the middle of the room, picking on your cuticles and fighting the urge to look at the floor. You weren’t sure where to put your hands, and nearly cursed your handmaiden for not talking about how stupid one might feel trying to be seductive. You stalked over to your husband, reaching your hand out to curl on the collar of the coat, pulling him further into the room. You knew he was still a bit bothered about you dancing with the lords that offered their hands, and you were only wondering what surprises awaited the sack.

His rough hands trailed down your body, feeling the sheer soft material against your skin, his hands coming to stop at the round of your bosom as his thumb ran over the now hardening nipple, his eyes fixated on how the cloth accentuated your figure, a soft hum left his body as his eyes trailed back up to yours. His eyes darted between yours, an emotion filled them that you couldn’t decipher but you knew your dress had an effect on him. He scoffed moving away from you and walking to the serving cart, picking up a cup and filling it with wine, bringing it to his lips as he turned to you. His chest rose and fell as his breath heightened, he scoffed again before closing his eyes and shaking his head. It made you a little nervous, not being able to understand what he was thinking about.

“You should go to bed.” Tywin finally spoke up, making your heart drop, did he not like your dress. Your brows furrowed as the gentle excitement in your face dimmed. Tywin still looked at you ravenous

“You should come with me then.” You threw back, he wasn’t just going to forfeit from this battle, he dragged this out for so long, only to deny you? You felt a little angry, you were frustrated and you were frustrated with lust. Your fingers reached to the gold pins on your shoulder, letting the dress come loose. Your thumb went under the straps to let the dress fall, in one swift push the dress pooled around your feet; leaving you naked in front of Tywin.

You body glistened in the light of the candles, the oils from earlier leaving your skin plump. You weren’t as talented in the art of pleasures and you were no whore, but your stood there naked, hands rested flat on your thighs. Your breathing a little heavier from the adrenaline rushing through you body. Tywin stood tall, leaning against the table, his hand clutching the edge and the other held the wine cup. His eyes shamelessly gave your body a once over as they slowly went down your body and back up to you eyes. He slammed the cup down on the table.

“Why do you find amusement in disobeying me?” He said as he closed the gap between the two of you in three long strides.

“You wanted a bride with more than half a brain.” You shrugged nervously smirking at him.

His pushed forward as your feet stood its ground, his hand came up to hold your jaw harshly, his nostril flared as his eyes raged on silently. You were a thorn to his side, and the more days the two of you remained married, your claws only seemed to have gotten sharper. Your husband however was well versed in how to tame you, how to make you obey. Though he quite enjoyed this rebellious and confident side of you, he preferred you on your knees for him.

“You truly want to toy with me, tonight. Hmm?” His head gently tilled to its side, his feet taking him forwards as your followed backwards. The grip on your jaw hardening. “Have your words lost you Lady Lannister?”

“Put my head on a spike, because yes husband.” You whispered back fluttering your eyelashes at him “I quite enjoy toying with you.” You gave him a smirk as best your could with your cheeks squished between his fingers. Were you poking a lion with a stick? You absolutely were, but there is just a sinful thrill to the things your husband does to you. It’s more like a prayer than a taunt, it’s begging for pleasure at his mercy.

“All those lords tonight, my wife.” He whispered as his lips grazed down your neck, his cool finger tips tracing down your spine making your flinch just a little. “Those pious, young and boneheaded boys.” He tutted slapping your hands away from his chest, the back of your thighs felt the edge of your bed. “Everyone one of them wanted you, I should know, I was their age at one point.” He let go of you jaw, reaching to undo his cuffs. You weren’t done toying with him though.

“Does that mean that your were boneheaded once, lord husband.” You bit your inner cheek to stop yourself from smiling, the thrill of teasing your husband made your stomach flip.

Tywin eyes menacingly raised to yours, his fingers still work on undoing his clothes, one brow quirked up as the green in his eyes appeared darker. “Do you think I’d be in my position if I was bone headed?” The look in his eyes made your confidence shrink, you gulped as your eyes stayed on him.

He pushed your body down to sit on the bed, you obliged and lowered down, the soft furs tickled against your bare legs. His hands reached to unbuckle the belt that held his coat together, letting it come loose and bending it in his hands. His other hand came right under your chin, his demeanour completely shifting as he gently tilted your head back to make you look at him.

“The second you feel discomfort, please tell me to stop. Is that understood?” Tywin’s voice ordered you in a softer tone as his thumb stroked your cheek. You nodded but that made him hold onto your face harder “Words, wife.”

“I understand.” You nodded again with your reply.

He held your hands up, looping the cool leather around your wrists, tightening them enough for you to not break free, his fingers lingered a moment as they held your tied fists in them his fingers caressing your hands as if to assure you that you were perfectly safe.

“Kneel for me, Y/N” His voice laced with lust as he ordered you.

You pushed yourself of the bed and onto your knees, the rug under you protecting your knees from being hurt. You looked up at him on your knees waiting his next command as your tied hands rested on your lap. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty knelt before him, your hair, your glistening skin and that pretty face with the sweetest eyes looking up at him. Your chest rising and falling as your breath quickened, your husband caressing your face as he looked down upon you, his fingers trailing from your cheek to your hair before flattening his hand you head to stroke it.

His other hand undid his pants and breeches, your hands instinctively coming up to tug them down his long legs, his cock sprung free of its clothed restrains, Tywin’s thumb grazed your bottom lip before tapping it, indicating you to open your mouth. As a good lady wife, you did as he said. Keeping your tongue flat and opening you mouth for him; all the while your gaze was fixated on him. His placed the tip of his cock on your tongue, on cue your lips wrapped around the red tip, suckling it in your mouth. The gentle weight of his length against your tongue as your mouth worked on him, he pushed his hips forward slowly until he felt himself touch the back of your mouth.

Not wanting to overwhelm you, he retreated out before pushing back in again. A hum rumbled through his chest in pleasure as the warmth of your mouth caressed his cock. His hips rolling into you mouth and back out, even in pleasure Tywin’s eyes watched you for any discomfort or hesitation while you sat there with you hands in your lap, letting your husband fuck you mouth. He gently picked his pace up, making you gag on his cock. The corners of your eyes tearing up from the strain of it before gagging again, making Tywin groan in ecstasy. He held you head there for moment as you focused your breathing through your nose, gagging shouldn’t feel good but with each thrust, your pussy pooled. You coughed as your head was pulled back, Tywin giving you just a second to breathe properly before going on to fuck your mouth again.

You mouth was covered in saliva as your husband’s assault to your mouth persisted, his hands had tightened their grip on your hair as he guided your head to meet him halfway through his trusts, gagging and choking on his cock.

“That’s it my girl, choke for me.” His breath hitched as he once more he held your head as his cock found itself deep in your throat. Your eyes watered even more as you gagged on his cock, you dug your fingernails into your palm to calm the panic coursing through your body while focusing on breathing through your nose. You were oddly enjoying your husband using you like this.

His pulled himself back, a trail of saliva from your mouth to his length connected as he gave you a moment to breathe and collect yourself. He watched you for any indication of discomfort but your eyes were flared in lust just like him. Once you cleared your throat and could breathe properly again, you looked up at him a smiled. With that he yanked you by your arms, your bobbly legs stood it ground but the speed of it all making your squeal as he turned your around and pushed your body onto the bed. Your marriage bed was tall enough for you to bend over and still have your feet on the ground. Tywin’s hand smacked the flesh on your back before groping it with both hands.

You could feel him lower down to his knees as he pressed a kiss to your ass, your pretty wet pussy presented to him like a meal on a platter, he used his finger to spread your outer lips open, hoisting one leg on the bed to give him more ground to work on. His fingertips grazed the sides of your cunt, teasing you and denying you from touching your most needy spot. Your hands laid under you, useless as your writhed in anticipation. You felt the tip of his nose nudge your clit before his tongue flattened on your folds, licking a stripe from your clit to your hole and repeating that few times. His tongue worked its magic on you as moans and whimpers began to slip past your lips.

“All mine.” He boasted as he ate your cunt, making your head fall in shame.

His thumbs pushed your lips further apart, making your clit grace the world bare. His tongue gently flicked the bare bud making your squirm and yelp out. Earning you a sharp slap on your ass by your husband. “Move any longer and you will go to bed right now.” He warned you before diving back into his assault. He loved paying attention to your sensitive nub, how it reddened and peaked through the hood in excitement making your sing the sweetest songs for him, it pushed your highs, brazen and crazed with pleasure. He took the flesh in his mouth to suckle on it, making you cry out. You were getting pushed to the edge the more he played with that part of you, his beard leaving the sweetest burns on your inner thighs as he devoured you.

You could feel yourself push right over the edge, and your wanton moans made Tywin aware too.

“Let go for me, my love.” He sat back on his knees to admire the mess between your legs, his finger rubbing circles on your cunt. His lips found your sensitive bud again, his tongue flicking the little bud until you felt the coil of pressure in your belly explode, making you scream out as your gushed on your husband’s face. He ate through your orgasm as you cried into the sheets, your nails digging into your palms.

Tywin’s beard glistened in your juices as he shamelessly licked his lips. Your cheeks heated in embarrassment as you tried to catch your breath, he gave you only a moment of respite before pushing both your legs onto the bed and holding your body weight up to turn you. You knelt on the edge of the bed facing him, he held your face to make you look at him. His fingers trailing down to cup your cunt.

“Would you consider this attention enough?” He whispered next to your ear as he dipped a finger in you, slowly thrusting it as he used his other hand to hold your face tighter. Your mind still disorganized from earlier, however his finger stirring your insides again made you pathetically whimper and nodded to his question before muttering out a quiet “Yes.”

Another finger slid into your cunt, his pointer and his middle finger filled your cunt as he slowly began to pick up the pace, his finger curling to stimulate the already sensitive nerves from the inside, your hands wriggled against it’s bonds. You wanted to touch him, you always touched him. Tywin looked intoxicated from the scene in front of him, your head fell forward to rest on his shoulder as he pumped his fingers fast, making you moan out. You felt hot and clammy and so sensitive but his fingers persisted as he began to urge you peak

“No, please, please.” You whimpered against his shoulder

“Please what, hmm?” Tywin’s voice held a amused tone to it, watching his wife break apart on his fingers.

You couldn’t reply but only grunt and then scream out as his fingers kept hitting the right spot inside you, your pussy clenching around his fingers, ready to blow through another orgasm that hurtled toward you. You took deep huffs of breath as your husband held you to stop your from falling forward, fucking his fingers purposefully into your pussy. Unlike the one before where pressure built up, your second orgasm bursted through like a dam. Your body weight held up by Tywin as you shut your eyes closed, tears of pleasure falling from them as a squeak and then a silent cry fell from you lips. A jolt of numbness shot through you body, the only thing you could feel was the constant throbbing between your legs and your husband whispering praises in your ears to coax you through the orgasm.

“You’re alright, so good sweet girl.” He whispered against your ear as your body shook from it’s post orgasmic state. Though your husband was not done with your yet. He gave you only a moment before pushing you back into the bed, climbing in after you, with absolute ease turning you to lay on your stomach. You were too engrossed by the sensations running through your body to protest. He lifted your hips up as your upper body laid flat against the sheets, your hands tied and yet again useless.

His tip was leaking with pre-cum and slick, and his body about ready to mount his wife into unconsciousness. He positioned his tip between your slick folds, rubbing his cock through them before circling his tip at your oversensitive clit making you flinch and cry out. Wriggling your body away from him, he told you this would stop whenever you told him to but you wanted this, you wanted his cock deep within you no matter how sensitive from pleasure you felt. He pushed himself in with ease making him groan, he took a tight hold of your hips for leverage before slamming his hips in completey. Making you grunt out into the sheets, Tywin’s body erupted in ecastsy as he thrusted into you hard, the sound of skin slapping filled the room with your incoherent moans.

“Perfect little wife.” He groaned between bresths as he fucked into you. “Made just for my cock, isn’t that right?” He slapped your ass to coax a reply out of you,

A mumbled “yes, made for your cock.” Slipped past your lips but sounded more like you crying for more cock. Tywin hands reached forward, pulling you up as his arm curled around your throat, the other went to greet your throbbing clit yet again. As his finger rubbed your nerves you cried out, tears covered your face from how oversensitive you were and Tywin relished in the pretty cries that left your lips. You felt yourself nearing again.

“Please, please I can’t.” You begged for mercy

“Yes you can, you will. Just relax.” Tywin grunted as he felt his peak reach him too.

He held your clit between his point and thumb and rolled it in between his fingers, it only took a few more thrusts before you came undone. Gushing yet again, wetting your husband’s cock. Your cunt fluttering around him, pushed him right to the edge.

“Take all my seed, nice and full.” He roared as his cock spurted it’s warm seed into your cunt. Your body falling forward into the sheets as he let you go, his hand slammed next to your head as he held himself up through his orgasm.

Your body felt like the apple pudding the kitchens make, any control of your limbs were lost to you as you felt as if your were floating through the seven heavens. In reality you weren’t but you sure were out of it, in an odd limbo of consciousness and unconsciousness. Once Tywin could move himself he gently pulled out, a rather full cunt this time considering he hadn’t laid with you in two moons. You whimpered as you felt yourself empty, clenching instinctively to keep his cum within you. Though even that turned to be a hard task. He gently turned you over to untie your hands, a gentle red mark had looped around your wrists which he lifted to inspect, rubbing them in his hands.

The sheets on your bed were absolutely destroyed, Tywin had walked over to the basin were the water was still rather warm, he dipped a cloth in to clean you up. When he reached to hold your legs open, you whined while lazily pulling yourself away

“No more, I can’t.” You whimpered

“No more my love, you did so well.” He cooed at you as he ran the cloth through your in thighs before wringing it and running it through your body. He wiped the stray tears that left your eyes as you blinked them open, sniffling before focusing your gaze on your husband. Who had a soft and comforting look to his face.

“Are you alright, Y/N” He inquired as his hand pushed your hair back, you nodded in reply; making him tap your lips for an answer

“Yes.”

He lifted you up effortlessly, taking you to the lady’s chambers. You lazily watched him with a post orgasmic bliss spread through your face. He put you down on the bed, you sat naked on the edge as you watched your husband walk around to your dressing table and retrieving your hair brush. You would have protested that he needn’t do that, you could have called your maids but when his fingers rubbed into your hair. You melted further. He took his time in comfortable silence, as he untangled your hair, one he was done he pushed you further onto the bed, maneuvering you under the covers before climbing in on the other end. You immediately curled up to him, he looked down onto your face. A small satisfied smile spread through his face as he took in the effect he had on you.

You however were fighting an internal battle, you were exhausted. Your husband nearly attempted to fuck you dead, but you needed his seed to catch. You tried your best to hold it in but youwere so tired, so you whined annoyed making your husband look down at you.

“Can’t hold it.” You pouted and your husband as usual had a solution for this too, he turned you the other way, his larger body spooning you. You felt him move around until you felt his softening cock enter your sore hole, you whimpered against his hold but he shushed you while gently pushing in. He stayed there still as his body cuddled into yours as every night before. He felt you flutter around, unsure of what to do until he spoke up.

“Sleep my love.” He whispered and so you did, your body grew heavier as your slipped into the world of slumber, content, warm and safe.

next chapter

#Spotify #tywin lannister x reader #desiblr #tywin lannister #house lannister #tywin lannister smut #tywin x reader #got x reader #got x you #ruiewrites #game of thrones #tears of gold au #reader interactive #reader insert #reader is female

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soft-for-them · 2 years

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Being a Lannister - Game of Thrones x plus size reader

Summary: Headcanons of being the youngest Lannister daughter and sibling. The reader is the daughter of Tywin's second wife though there is the rumour that the reader isn't Tywin's child (up to reader to decide because I'm not going to be one of those fuckers who write just for white people by making the reader a full sibling.)

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/n: Is this that good, meh. I'm I still trying to get used to writing for the GoT characters, yes. So sorry if this isn't the best dfghjkhgf.

. Tywin Lannister loved Joanna with all his heart but sooner or later people would have begun pressuring him to re-marry and that they did.

. Now Tywin wasn’t the type of man to get peer pressured to marry again by anyone, even by the king, he was never going to re-marry just for the sake of marrying and he knew he would never love anyone more than he loved Joanna.

. A proud man Tywin was, the type of man who shifted his focus on to marrying off his own children rather than finding himself a new bride.

. The sneaky noblemen who paraded there scarcely legal daughters around Tywin thought that he’d fall for their beauty but those men where shunned and judged just enough by the widower so that the women in pretty frocks sent by their money hungry fathers came less and less.

. But alas, Westeros is a place of ever changing kingdoms, Kings and Queens coming and going, wars waging on, people hungry for power through any means necessary.

. So when it came out that Tywin Lannister, the cold hearted leader of the house of Lannister, was re-marrying it came to a shock to some and long time coming for others.

. That’s where you come in.

. There are many rumours about you, some good, others bad but let me tell you dear reader your name will go down in history.

. Now whilst it isn’t good to dwell on rumours there is one that stands out, one that you’ll never escape no matter what you do.

. You see before you were even born, rumours of whether or not you’re a true Lannister ran ramped.

. Some say your mother was already with child when she married Tywin, others say that such noble woman couldn’t even have known about sex for she was so pure of heart so she wouldn’t have been pregnant.

. Regardless, your mother and Tywin where married and you were on your way.

. It was a small wedding but one that showed power to the few that attended, it was a warning to anyone who would try fuck the Lannisters over not to, for Tywin didn’t marry your mother for love or an heir, he married her for an upper hand, for political power, for people to see he could take whatever he wanted even if that was your mother who was a mere lady, the daughter of a small lord who just so happened to own a lot of land.

. Tywin knew of the pregnancy rumours straight away; he was never a fool about the chatters of the maids and cooks who commented on his new wife’s growing belly, he saw the looks of the guards and the other noblemen, he had heard of your mother’s past lover and his deadly death.

. None of the Lannisters where ever close to your mother, she was merely a pawn in a big game of chess, a trophy wife who only the poor found to be pretty and the noble found too plain - rather your mother was more like a trophy left on a shelf to gather dust, useless to most.

. You brother Tyrion had told you once when you were little and sad about having no mother, for your mother passed away when you were just a toddler, that you mother did not care for the Lannisters either.

. He told you in hushed tones that she spent most of her time alone embroidering mythical scenes onto cloaks and staring out into space, your brother had told you that she has a wondering mind filled with what he assumed were thoughts of what could have been.

. Her kindness only stretched out to her handmaid, sometimes to Tyrion himself if the weather was right and of course to yourself.

. Her distance was noted by Tywin, maybe that’s why he always tried to be in your life as much as he could.

. He may have been a cold man but somehow he had a soft spot for his youngest daughter and knowing that he tried with you, even if it was all for nothing in the end, always made you a bit of a daddy’s girl.

. As soon as you were born the old man protected you like a lion with his cub.

. Honestly, he never cared if you were his or not, it was blatantly obvious to everyone if you were or not.

. Tywin had your mother’s land, he held her in his iron grip, she was nothing but she gave him so much that only death could take her away.

. So when she died when you were just a toddler you, bastard or not, you were left to the nannies and handmaids.

. When you were little, old enough to walk but young enough that your legs got tired easily, you followed your father and you siblings around like a lost puppy because the maids and nannies did not care for you and you were too young to be sat in one room all day without fidgeting and having a tantrum.

. In those times if people saw Tywin all stern and stoic walking down the corridor there would always be a little chubby you plodding along behind him in your little frilly dresses with a slightly worried guard behind you.

. Now I might have over exaggerated how much Tywin was around, for yes you did stick to him like glue, however had meetings and other lordly stuff to do.

. So yes, you were with the nannies most days but sometime your father would whisk you away.

. I was quite easy for the head Lannister to pick you up and take you away from your lessons so boring and long.

. Sometimes he’d tell you grand stories of past Lannisters. He never left out details of war but he focused on strategies and political things rather than tales of decapitations and impaling.

. Sometimes these stories shaped like fairy tales filled with real world knowledge came when you followed behind your father other times, on the rare occasion, he’d tell you bedtime stories.

. Tywin would also show you the creatures he’d hunted and killed teaching you how to gut and skin the animals.

. Now you might think showing a child a dead animal and teaching them how to skin them would be scary, and yes you were scared of it as a child, but that’s the thing Tywin was never an idiot so he planned it accordingly.

. Days before his hunt he had told you, you only six at the time, about a creature lurking in the woods killing men travelling and stealing their little daughters. None of the story was true but he wanted to plant the thought that the bear he was going to hunt was the bad guy, he wanted to justify to his sunshine daughter that killing the bear was justified.

. Things like that were fairly common, stories and tasks that where shown to teach you a lesson, to mould your brain into something Tywin would be proud of because he hadn’t do the best with his first three children.

. Each one of your three older siblings treated you differently.

. Jaime Lannister was, dare I say, awkward around you. He was well into his young adulthood when you were born, the age gap between siblings was way too big so he never really talked to you, he was never around you.

. Now it’s not like he hated you (unlike a certain twin of his) but you both were too different for the conversations to lead beyond small talk.

. You were, and still are, a plus size woman with wit and brain, a woman who stands tall and proud but has differing opinions to the Lannisters before her. Jaime was a knight and a man stuck in the web of his sister-lover’s lies.

. Still there was a respect between you both, he protected you like older brothers should and you liked the person he became when he untangled himself out his twin’s grasp even if it didn’t last that long.

. Speaking of a certain twin let’s just say you’ve never like your older sister.

. Well let me rephrase it; she’s always hated you so over the years your distaste for her has grown.

. When you were little and wobbly on your feet you’d look up to her tumbling blonde hair and sharp face and think she was truly a princess but her destain towards you the ‘bastard’ child made her mean and harsh.

. She’d poke at you for being plus size, commenting on what you were eating or even taking food away. Stuff that like would make you angry so you’ve grown and learnt not to take her shit.

. “Take this away, she does not need more food.” Cersei would say when a plate of food was placed in front of you.

That day it was only you, her and some other high born ladies eating lunch and because of her being older (literally she was an adult by then and you still a child) she thought she had the power to take away you food.

Now being used to her you took the plate right in front of Cersei’s face her meal filled with rich foods and expensive produce easily gobbling it down with a smirk.

. She’s also do that thing old sisters do when they insist to do your hair.

. Now if you had the same long straight glossy blonde hair that she had then maybe just maybe you’d let her do your hair more often but considering you hair was much different to hers you had dreaded when she wanted to do your hair.

. She’d brush until you hair got fizzy and dry, pull on your roots until it was painful and she'd clip so may heavy hairpieces in that you felt like you head was going to tumble off onto the floor.

. Now when you were older you flat out refused to let her on step near your hair but as a small four or five year old you could never run away from it.

. She did it on purpose, she liked seeing you hurt but she knew that flat out hurting you with her fists of a knife would get her in trouble.

. All her anger and hatred towards you never made you as angry as her, actually you pitied your older sister so much so that you marvel in the fact that you’d never be as miserable as she was in her life.

. (I'm not going to get started on your relationship with her children.)

. The only sibling you really liked was, and still is, Tyrion.

. Where do I start with Tyrion?

. You see Tyrion was already grown when you were born so there was never any real jealously towards you that he might have felt if he was younger and more angry.

. Yes, it still hurt him that his father loved a so called bastard more than him but his wise mind knew that he must protect you, stop you from becoming like his older siblings.

. He taught you many things, often people would find you both reading together.

. If you followed you father around like a little shadow when you were younger than in your teenage years you followed Tyrion around like one too.

. Just imagine it, a taller plush young woman maybe fourteen or fifteen in a full golden gown following behind the shorter gruffer Tyrion like it was the most exciting thing in the world.

. A curious mind you are and Tyrion finds that endearing.

. You’re one of the first people to stand up for him, and without any consequences considering Tywin’s deep love for you.

. People know not to speak ill of Tyrion in you presents for if they did then hellfire would rain down on them.

. You’re a Lannister after all, you might be kind and wise but there are stories of lords with sword scars and ladies who hardly spoke because they crossed you by speaking badly of Tyrion.

. Often you’re sat next to him as dining tables and royal events, if the man turned up to these types of things.

. You’ve learnt may more things from Tyrion, important things that has helped you survive when other Lannisters have died, unlike the stuff you’ve learnt from your tutors boring and simple.

. There was the normal ‘lady like’ lessons taught to you by tutors like sewing, knitting, music and a number of manner lessons but you were also taught politics and writing, mathematics and the sciences, along with how to ride a horse and handle (and hide) a knife.

. There’s no denying that you are a true Lannister by the way you are; you’re a woman who stands proud but are still secretive, with long flowing dresses rich and almost Queen like that flattered you plush body. With the power to change things with just one pointed look and the wit to not die.

. You survived to see the crowning of Barn Stark, you survived and aren’t hated, actually quite the opposite you are loved.

. Though there are more tales to tell of you (Y/n) Lannister those are for another time.

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader #cersei lannister #cersei lannister x reader #tyrion lannister #tyrion lannister x reader #tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #x plus size reader #plus size reader #x chubby reader #chubby reader

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atomic--peach · 10 months

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Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt 23

(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader, brief one sided Lancel Lannister x Fem Reader. Disclaimer: While Lancel's age is unstated in the show, in the books he is canonically 17. However, since the show ages everyone up by 2-3 years and we've been going by Show ages instead of Book ages so far , Lancel in this fic would be 19-20.

SMUT: male masturbation )

AO3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

Lannister Reign over the continent seemed to be solidifying with every passing day One Baratheon brother dead, the other cast back into the sea. Jaime was off fighting for control of the Riverlands against the Stark pup. Joffrey on the throne with his grandfather as Hand to the King, and Cersei looming over all shoulders, waiting for something to do.

She needed a distraction. Something to take her mind off the thoughts barreling through her brain.

There were the usual concerns, of course. Her dreadful little brother. The Stark Girl, who was more use to them alive but sulked around the keep like a kicked dog.

Speaking of dogs.

She shook her head.

Don't think on that, there's no point to it.

And yet she couldn't stop herself. She pictured you that night, standing in the darkness of your quarters with knowing eyes that looked almost eager for the Queen to get closer. Cersei couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she had forced you into the Holdfast with the other ladies.

You'd still be here, of course.

But that look you gave Cersei. A look to chill the blood of even the most hardened of warriors. It was the look of a predator just waiting for its prey to move into the perfect position.

But that was nonsense, Cersei knew that.

You were devoted to her, even in anger. Each time Cersei sent you away, you had always come back. You never would have left her Queen's side if you hadn't been forced to.

This was the delusion Cersei labored under for weeks, even now despite the idea being brushed off by everyone else.

She brought her distress to her father and Joffrey, and both looked at her like she had grown a second head.

"Forgive me." Tywin squinted slowly as if he didn't understand. "But it is my understanding that upon marriage, a wife becomes as one with her husband both spiritually and legally. Lady Clegane is the man's wife, therefore there can be no issue of kidnapping."

"All the same" Cersei fumed, outraged that they would not see sense. "He should be found and hanged as a deserter. If we find him, we find Lady Clegane."

"We are at war" Joffrey scoffed, "We do not have the spare men to send after a stray dog and his bitch."

Cersei wanted to pull his ear for that. She had been unprepared for the harsh change in her dynamic with her son. He no longer listened to her and did not seek her advice or her counsel.

When he discovered the truth of Robert's many bastards, he sent the city watch to slaughter them all, grown and babes alike.

When Cersei heard of this, she was stunned. Yes, it solved the issue of the truth Jon Arryn discovered, but it also gave those who resented Lannister presence a rallying cry against Cersei and her family

"The Queen Slaughters Babies" Tyrion had said with a dark smirk.

Tywin insisted Cersei at least try to keep some kind of control over her son, but the boy king resisted with every attempt.

That made it sting all the more when Tywin himself succeeded where Cersei had failed with her child.

Tywin had him settled, more willing to thin before acting, and betrothed to Margery Tyrell, whom Cercei resented and watched carefully.

If you were here, Cersei thought, you would know what to say to cheer her. You would call Margery a snub-nosed little girl and laugh with Cersei at the very idea of such a welp replacing her.

"She could never hold a candle to you, Your Grace" you would say, cheeks rosy and eyes smiling. "Rose or not."

Why had you left? Cersei knew why, she wasn't stupid.

She did regret what had happened. You had wanted that baby so badly. I should have just had that dog put down, Cersei thought to herself, that would have been enough.

Yes, it would have hurt you, but you would have gotten over it. You would have had your baby to look after, and Cersei by your side.

Cersei allowed herself to linger on this alternative path, as it was so much more pleasant than her current reality.

Cersei would have moved you closer to the royal quarters, perhaps even into her rooms. The babe would be attended to by a nanny and wetnurse, as all highborn children were.

I could have given them more, Cersei frowned.

A head start for the boy, he would have been set to be someone's squire. Perhaps Jaime's. From there he could take on the role his father had taken, sworn sword to the King's children. Or, on the off chance the boy had been small, unfit for the battlefield, he could have even been sent to Oldtown to be educated.

Would she have loved him? Cersei wondered. Not as she loved her own children, surely. But, he would have been the apple of his mother's eye. I would have cared for him, Cersei decided firmly, not loved, but cared for.

And how well you would have thrived as a mother. You were so good with little Tommen and Myrcella, it would have come naturally.

After The Hound died, what would be done with you?

You could remain forever a widow, that would be the preferred route. You could not be trusted not to love, and in Cersei's view, it was only natural for everyone to fall in love with you eventually.

If the silly fool had been smart enough not to fall for her first husband, none of this would have happened.

If you did remarry though, it would have to be a weak man. One who did not ask questions and did not interfere.

She had thought the Hound good at not interfering. Perhaps Cersei had been blind to it, but he had never seemed resentful of your affections for your Queen. But why else would he have stolen you from the Keep in the Night like a common thief?

you must be so worried, Cersei realized.

Did you know they had won? That they were still alive?

The poor dear was snatched up and swept away like a maiden in a story, she thought fretfully, you must be so confused and frightened.

Enough of this. Cersei slapped her palm to the smooth table top she sat at, nursing a goblet of wine. If they would not do anything, she would.

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"You asked to see me, your grace?"

"Yes, come in." Cersei eyed the sell sword up and down. To consider this man a knight would be an affront to the very notion of chivalry, regardless of the "Ser" they put before his name.

"I find myself in need of some help." She began. "I have a problem, and the crown has made it clear they will not intervene, so I am seeking outside assistance."

Bronn nodded understandingly. "May I ask as to the nature of the problem?"

"My favorite, The Lady Clegane, do you know her?"

"Know of her, the uh…" He tried to find a word he could get away with in the present company, "the pretty one the Hound married. I saw her."

"She was kidnapped by her husband from the keep the night Stannis attacked the city. I want her brought back, and I want that barbarian's throat slit."

Bronn considered this. "That can be arranged. It'll take some asking around though, not many men would be willing to track down a man that big and that good with a sword. And they'll be asking for a pretty penny to do it."

"Money is of no object, I assure you," Cersei smirked. "I want her brought back alive and unharmed."

"I'll find the man for the job, your grace." Bronn smiled coyly, "Of course, there is a matter of a finder's fee…"

"Find me a man who can do the job. If he comes back alive with Lady Clegane unharmed, you will be rewarded handsomely." Cersei assured him.

Bronn's grin widened at this, "I will start straight away, Your Grace."

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Lancel stared at the ceiling over his bed blankly.

His wound still burned with infection, and his brow was damp with feverish sweat.

The Maester said he would have died if not for the quick dressing of his wound. He had you to thank for that, he thought fondly.

He made good his vow to Clegane and told his father to find him a wife that could get him out of King's Landing, and Kevin Lannister acted swiftly, glad to see that his son was finally taking adult responsibility seriously.

But while the Frey girl Kevin had betrothed him to was kind and plain-faced with noble intentions, Lancel's mind could not help but stray.

He hated himself for it. It was an affront to the gods, disrespectful to the man who had covered his crimes, and dishonored the very lady his affections yearned for.

His soul was still wracked with guilt, how he had been the one to summon you to Cersei's chambers that night. He had no way of knowing what would happen, he told himself, no way at all.

And even after what happened, when he confessed before you and your husband the Queen's crime and his unintentional part in it, though he might die, and if he did it would be well deserved.

But instead, you bore him no ill will, neither of you did. You had even taken valuable time to tend to his wounds when he was injured. "Come with us" you had urged him, and he wanted to follow so badly.

But his honor would not allow it, nor his pride.

And in the end, they won, despite everything.

When the battlefield cleared, Lancel found he could not judge Clegane for what he had done. Win or Lose, nothing would have changed for you. You would still be trapped, your son would still be dead, and you would have to look into the face of your child's killer every day.

He could still picture the beach, war raging only a few hundred yards from them as you held his hand in yours.

Even in plain wool, stripped of any court finery that might have disguised you for a snobbish highborn, you were still so beautiful.

Had Clegane not been there, had they been alone on that beach, would Lancel have dared to kiss you as he had so wanted to in that moment?

It was horrible to think, he knew that. You were a married woman, with a husband who not only loved but respected you. And you were his senior by ten years or more, what could you ever want with someone like him? Little more than a boy in tin armor with a toy sword when compared to The Hound.

As he pondered in the darkness, the arm on Lancel's good side began to move over his hip to rest on his lower stomach. Absentmindedly his long fingers played at the edge of his waistband.

He wished you were here. You had been so kind, so attentive when you nursed his wound as he sat on your bed. Even in the midst of the pain and the noise of the battle still ringing in his ears, the touch of your hands on his body was startlingly gentle.

He imagined how soft your touch had been on his face, all those times you had cupped his cheek gently, in the cellars by candlelight, in the garden surrounded by flowers. How those soft hands would feel against his bare chest, nursing him still with those sad eyes. How you'd press a cold cloth to his brow to soothe his fever.

"My poor Lion" he could hear you breathe, "Let me take care of you."

He gasped as your small hand gripped the length of his shaft and stroked him slowly but firmly. He did not protest, only whimpering with need as you leaned over him to plant a kiss on his brow. Your chest hovered just out of his reach until you drew him close and laid his head on your breast.

"Sweetling." You coaxed him gently, "You must rest, let me help you."

He nodded in agreement and very nearly cried out as you picked up the pace, lavishing tender attention on his sensitive tip each time your fingers pumped his cock.

"Please" he whined, face buried in the warm softness of your breasts as the sensation overwhelmed him. The beckoning smell of your hair, the musical tone of your sweet voice. "Please. I need you; I need you; I love you. Please."

You laughed lightly at his gasping chant, watching his hips buck against your hand.

"I know, darling, I know. Just breath. You're doing so well, so close."

His release came quickly, and just as soon as you were there, you were gone. Your warmth replaced by a cool pillow; your small soft hand replaced by his own nimble fingers.

Even as he traced the sensitive tip of his cock, drawing out more jerks and whines, Lancel felt a wave of shame wash over him.

But more powerful than shame was desire. The desire to sleep, the desire to dream. Perhaps you would visit him again tonight if he was lucky.

#cersei lannister x reader #her grace's handmaiden #game of thrones fanfiction #lancel lannister #game of thrones smut

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rere-the-writer · 1 year

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hiring! Can I request a fic where it is Game Of thrones x the originals? Like Reader is Tywin's daughter from his second marriage and she was set to marry some abuse lord. But she meets Elijah when he and Oberyn are in Kingslanding for Joffrey's wedding. Reader and Elijah fall for one another so Tywin changes his mind and allows Elijah to marry reader instead. Oh can it be where Joffrey never died? So Tyrion is never arrested please and thank you.

I know I rarely do cross over fics but this request just got me. Also I had just started watching 'House of the Dragon' and rereading the books.

Warnings: Fluff, Protective Lannister men, Oberyn scheming, Elijah just being the softest, hints of smut

Pairing: Elijah M. x Velaryon!Lannister!Reader

A/N: I am well aware of how Tywin treats his children in the show but soft!Tywin is my shit. Oh maybe I could a series of this. This will be a two parter

A/N/N: also we support Rhaenyra x Alicent in this household and believe Otto ruined everything

283 Winter, Casterly Rock

Vaesa let out her last scream as she pushed, then the sounds of a baby's cry filled the halls of Casterly Rock. Tywin Lannister, not caring that a Maester and mid-wives tried stopping him from entering the room.

There Vaesa sat rocking you in her arms, you were healthy with soft bronze skin. And a head of sliver blonde curls with jade colored. A girl of Velaryon and Lannister blood, Vaesa knew just what your life was going to be. Her bloodline could be traced back to Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys Velaryon.

"I apologize, my husband...I gave you a girl." Vaesa tells Tywin as he moved closer taking you into his arms. You held most of house Velaryon features due to Vaesa's pure Velaryon blood.

"It is fine wife. She is perfect." Tywin says kissing your forehead when you yawned. Vaesa smiled seeing her husband soften holding you. Little did you know you were going to be the most protected girl in the Seven Kingdoms.

287 Summer, Casterly Rock

Vaesa held your hand walking down to the waters where a huge dragon lay, Rovas, the last known dragon and your mother his rider. Rovas moved his head hearing your mother softly call out to him and you, ever so much the adventurer, tried to run up to the lazy dragon.

"Go on my little lion." Vaesa says knowing Tywin was watching closely on top of the stone steps. Tywin was at first against you meeting Rovas but your mother reassured your father that the old dragon would be gentle.

You giggled feeling Rovas press his snout against your little body, he let out a purr when you patted his snout. Vaesa turned to her husband with a smirk on her face when she heard you call for them both.

"Mama! Papa! Look!" You squealed getting your parents attention, seeing you on top of Rovas's head. The dragon just lay there not caring there was a five year old climbing on him.

"I only turned my back for a second." Vaesa said when Tywin moved standing next to her. Both watched Lannister guards nervously moved towards the dragon to get you down.

"It seems she is more Velaryon than Lannister." Tywin joked making Vaesa laugh. Your parents watched you climb down off of Rovas who tilted his head making easier for you.

"Soon Rovas would be hers." Vaesa tells her husband when you came running up. You begged your father to pick you up and you three went in for lunch.

301 Summer, Kingslanding

You had grown into a beautiful young woman which your mother joked that it must be your Velaryon blood. You stood by Rovas looking out at the waters feeling the old dragon shift his head to nuzzle your side.

The war was over and you being 18, Tywin was looking for a Lord to wed you. Rovas purred feeling your stress and the dragon wanted nothing more than to comfort you. You didn't want to marry knowing your husband wouldn't allow you to keep Rovas.

"I knew you would be out here." Tyrion says walking down to join you seeing how your guard stayed up on the steps. Tyrion shook his head knowing both Jamie and Tywin would be angry that the guard didn't stay close to you.

"Father says I'll be married soon." You tell your older brother still looking out at the sea.

"You wish to not marry sister? You won't have to, your mother will birth our sibling soon." Tyrion says watching you sigh and lay on Rovas's snout.

"If is a boy, I won't have to but if it is a girl." You mumbled before squeaking when Rovas raised his head making you stand.

"Lady Y/N, the Lord Hand wishes to speak to you." A handmaid tells you making you frown and nodded following after her. Tyrion sighed and patted Rovas who huffed wanting to fly you out of Kingslanding.

---

The day of Joffrey's and Margaery's wedding was celebrated by all. Mean while you were stuck listening to your betrothed list your duties as his wife. Lord James Whitehill was suggested to your father by Cersei. While your brothers hated the Lord having done some digging.

"I hope you only birth me sons. Daughters will not be allowed also I don't want you to have your dragon." Lord Whitehill tells you well more like demanded.

"Exuse me, Lord Whitehill but I have others to greet." You tell the Lord leaving before you hit him. Vaesa was sitting Jamie and both was glaring at your betrothed.

"Princess." You brighten up hearing Oberyn and turned around smiling. You stopped see the Lord next to Oberyn, your heart skipped a beat.

"Prince Oberyn, I told you I am no Princess." You tell the Prince who just smirked at you putting an arm around you.

"Being the daughter of Velaryon Lady should make you one." Oberyn teased you noticing how you looked at the Lord.

"Who is your friend?" You asked Oberyn making the Prince smile.

"This is Lord Elijah Mikaelson, the Noble stag of the North. Lord Elijah, this is Lady Y/N." Oberyn says then moved away to leave you two to talk. Oberyn saw how Tywin watched you and Elijah right away.

"Lady Y/N, may I have this dance?" Elijah asked you noticing the flush that came on your face. You shyly nodded placing your smaller hand in Elijah's much larger hand.

"Who is that with our sister, Tyrion?" Jamie whispered to his younger brother not wanting Cersei to hear him.

"That would be the Lord Elijah of the North. If I remember right his family stayed out of the war." Tyrion says watching you giggle at Elijah's jokes as you both danced. Jamie was surprised before sitting next to Tyrion.

"What else do you know?" Jamie asked watching you and Elijah getting a smirk from his brother.

"They say the House of Mikaelson once rode with the House of Dragon. They are old blood and members of the family rarely leaves the North."

"So better than Lord Whitehill?" Jamie asked looking at your betrothed not liking the dark glare on his face. While Tywin sat rethinking your marriage proposal to Lord Whitehill.

"Very." Tyrion says noticing their sister's jealous glare.

"Shame you are betrothed Lady Y/N." Elijah says twirling you and you smiled up at the Lord.

"It is not set in stone my Lord. I just haven't gotten other offers." You tell Elijah getting a coy smile from him.

"Then may I add my proposal?" Elijah asked you kissing your hands making you flush nodding.

---

"He is so attentive of her. Agree sister?" Tyrion says joining Cersei with Jamie seeing Elijah tucking a rose behind your ear.

Kingslanding was gossiping how you were set to marry Lord Elijah. Tywin finding him a better match for you since a marriage between you and Elijah would benefit the Lannisters. Cersei was seething watching you walking with Elijah in the gardens.

"Yes, shame father ended her proposal with Lord Whitehill." Cersei tells her brothers eyes darken when you shyly kissed Elijah's cheek.

"Well good thing he did. I heard some unfavorable things about the Lord." Jamie says seeing you lead Elijah down to the beach.

Elijah was surprised that you wanted him to meet your dragon. He still had to thank Oberyn for introducing you both and also talking the Lord up to the Lord Hand. Rovas raised his head seeing you.

"Rovas! Meet my beloved!" You tell the dragon as Elijah flet his heart burst at your words. You gently pulled Elijah closer and the dragon stared at the Lord then lay his head back down.

"He is quite the dragon." Elijah says placing a hand on Rovas while dragon watched you lean back against Elijah's chest.

"He trusts you. Rovas didn't allow Lord Whitehill near me when I had them meet." You tell Elijah smiling knowing Rovas was very protective of you.

"I should make sure he all he needs up North." Elijah tells you kissing your hand eyes twinkling seeing how you brighten.

---

Vaesa stood next to her husband getting teary eyed as Elijah kissed you making you his wife. Vaesa was happy you were marrying an honorable man unlike Lord Whitehill.

Of course the Lord tried to say he took your maidenhead after a drunken night. Tywin nearly ran a sword though Lord Whitehill for the lie if Jamie and Tyrion hadn't stopped their father.

The feast was lovely and you were enjoying the attention Elijah was giving you that was until Joffrey ruined it. The boy King came walking up to your table with Lord Whitehill.

"Time for the bedding ceremony! Now dear Lady aunt, I hope y........" Joffrey was cut off when Elijah placed his sword on the table eyes dark.

"Touch my wife and men will lose their hands." Elijah said coldly and Tywin stood up.

"Maybe there is to be no bedding ceremony. We should allow the new couple to retire." Tywin says as you took Elijah's hand taking him to your wedding chambers.

---

You woke feeling arms tighten around your waist and smiled remembering what happen. You had consummated your marriage to your new husband. Elijah hummed enjoying the feeling you kiss his face.

"Good morning my beloved wife." Elijah sounded sleepy and his voice sounding husky. Elijah pressed more kisses on your bare skin and touching what ever he could reach.

Morning beloved." You say rolling over kissing Elijah. You giggled when Elijah rolled you both over trapping you under him. Elijah nuzzle your neck pressing closer to you.

"Shall revist last night?" Elijah teased you making you flush wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Yes...my Lord husband." You said shyly pulling Elijah closer as you both indeed revist last night.

#rere's stories #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson fluff #elijah x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine

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holb32 · 5 months

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The Hound and the Lioness

Sandor Clegane x fem!reader - Smut -

Part One!

Summary - Gianna Lannister is the youngest daughter of Tywin Lannister from his second wife Lynnette Stark. When Gia rushes in to help Sansa Stark, after her nephew humiliates her, the king suddenly has a 'brilliant' idea... or so he says.

A/N - This is only the second time I've done something like this... so bare with me please.

WARNINGS - If you are UNDER 18 then DO NOT read! Forced marriage, loss of virginity, blow job, blood, PIV, maybe breeding kink and size kink, literally has no plot just doing this coz I had an idea! If I've missed anything that should be added as a warning then please let me know!

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Gianna watched from the crowd that had gathered in the throne room, as Joffrey terrorised poor Sansa Stark, again.

"You're here to answer for your brother's latest crimes. What do you have to say?" Joffrey aimed his armed crossbow at the Stark girl as she kneeled before him.

"Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part in it!" The poor girl began to sob, "You know this, Your Grace. I beg-" Joffrey had cut her off before she could finish, Ser Lancel, tell her what her brother has done!" Demanded Joffrey.

As Ser Lancel stepped forwards, so did Gianna. She always knew something wasn't right with her eldest nephew. He was evil, one of the evilest beings she's ever come across. Gia was appalled with his actions and about the fact that no one could make him stop, not even his mother.

"Using some vile sorcery your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves." Lancel announced. Gianna couldn't understand how people actually believe this stuff. So she rolled her eyes and mentally face palmed herself, ridiculous fools, she thought to herself.

"Thousands of good men were slaughtered, after the butchering, the Northmen feasted on the meat of the slain." This made the crowd surrounding them gasp and whisper in horror. War was a dreadful thing, Gianna knew that, but she really couldn't see that happening. At least not on Robb Stark's orders or his mothers. When she first met them, when she went with her older sister Cersei and her family to Winterfell, she'd gotten on well with the Starks.

"Killing you would, mayhaps, send your traitor brother a message." Gianna snapped out of her thoughts at that, surely he's not really contemplating that? The poor Stark girl began to weep, "But my mother insists on keeping you alive, unfortunately. Stand." Sansa stood at the king's orders, ever the obedient Lady Stark. Gianna's pity for the girl grew day by day. She didn't deserve this, no one did.

"So, we'll just have to send your brother a message some other way." Gianna took another step forward, just so she stood slightly out of the crowd, as if she might run towards young Lady Stark, she was family after all, distant but still family. "Meryn." The unspoken order was spoken and Joffrey's favoured Kingsguard stepped towards Sansa, "Leave her face, I like her pretty." And with that Sansa was punched to the stomach.

Gianna gasped and tried to step forwards, but before anyone could truly notice, her handmaid Dalia grabbed her arm, "No, my Lady. I do not think it wise to step in." Gia didn't take her eyes off Sansa. Meryn took out his sword and struck the backs of her legs, so she fell to the floor.

"Meryn, my dear lady's over-dressed. Unburden her." The Knight stood behind poor Sansa and ripped the back of her dress open, "If you want Robb Stark to hear us, we're going to have to speak louder!" Ser Meryn took out his sword again, swinging it over his head, "What is the meaning of this?"

The crowd split to allow Gianna's brother, Tyrion Lannister, to make his way through along with his man Bronn. "What kind of Knight beats a helpless girl!" Snaps Tyrion. "The kind who serves his king, Imp!" Meryn Snapped back. Gianna hated that man, he was just as vile and cruel as her nephew. "Careful now, we wouldn't want to get blood all over your pretty white cloak." Bronn, even though he irritated Gia sometimes with his crude words, managed to shut the Knight up.

"Would someone get the girl something to cover herself with." Gianna and Sandor 'The Hound' stepped forward towards Sansa. "It's alright sweet girl, Tyrion will handle Joffrey." Whispered the young Lannister Lady as the Hound grabbed his White Cloak over her shoulders.

"She's to be your queen. Do you have no regard towards her honour?" Questioned Tyrion, "I'm punishing her!" Tyrion gaped, "For what crimes? She's not fighting her brother battles you half wit!" Gianna helped Sansa stand, wrapping the girl in her arms.

"Your behaviour is despicable, Nephew! She's done nothing wrong!" Gia shouted. The Stark girl shook in the Lannister Lady's arms. "Neither of you can speak to me like that! The king can do as he likes!" Again Lady Lannister rolled her eyes, "The Mad King did as he liked! Look where that got him! Killed by his own guard, his people rebelled against him. Is that what you want to be done to you? For people a hundred years from now to remember you as the king who beat helpless Ladies?" Snapped Gianna, turning to her brother, "Perhaps they'll title him 'The Half-wit King', brother?" The people in the room sniggered and gasped. Gia swore she heard The Hound huff amusingly behind her.

"No one threatens his Grace in the presence of the kingsguard!" Meryn rushed towards Gianna, threateningly. "I'm not threatening him, Ser. I'm merely giving my nephew some... advice." Gianna didn't bother to look at Ser Meryn. "Bronn the next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him." Tyrion said in a bored manner, turing to Ser Meryn, "Now that was a threat... see the difference?!" Gia chuckled at her older brother, they'd always been close, even since she was a little girl.

Tyrion walked towards his little sister and Sansa, leading them away. "I apologise for my nephew's behaviour. Tell me the truth, do you want this wedding to happen?" Spoke Tyrion softly, "We could try to get the engagement broken, if you'd like?" Gia rubbed the girls shoulders and they walked, "I am loyal to king Joffrey-" Stated Sansa, pulling out of Gianna's arms, "He is my one true love." With that she walked ahead of them, her ladies maids following her.

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Gianna was summoned back to the throne room, a couple hours later. As she walked in she realised that the crowd had only gotten bigger. At the throne sat her nephew, on both sides of him were his mother, Gianna's only and older sister, and the hand, who was Gianna's father. At the bottom of the stairs to the throne stood the kingsguard.

"You summoned me, Your Grace." Gianna stood before her family. She had changed into a more comfortable dress, since she was planning to go horse riding after. "Yes, I did." Signed Joffrey. "Tell me, Dear Aunt. Do you think the way you spoke to me earlier was appropriate? Especially of a Lady." Questioned the king.

Gianna looked towards her father at that moment, his face was emotionless. So she looked towards her kingsguard brother, he looked nervous for her. "I said what I thought to be true, Your Grace." She wouldn't lie. He needed to be told. Cersei scoffed, "You're king deserves more respect from you." Gianna rolled her eyes, "DO NOT ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME!" Screeched Cersei. "My apologise, sister."

"You know, I'll have to punish you." Gia's heart began to race. Surely her father wouldn't allow that. She was his daughter, and she knew he favoured her out of all his children. Looking towards him again she saw that his face was still, emotionless.

"You see, I've had a few hours to... come up with your punishment. Mother helped me." They both chuckled. "You're young, unmarried, pretty. What better punishment is there than to marry you to a... hound." The crowd gasped at their king's words. Joffrey laughed hysterically. "Mother's always calling you a bitch, so it seems quite fitting! Don't you think?!" I glanced towards 'The Hound' . He stood tall, but you could tell he was angry.

"Your Grace I don't think that's-" Tywin tried to reason with his grandson, he didn't want to drag his house through the mud again. "Silence!'' shouted Joffrey. "Hound stand by your bride to be!" Sandor reluctantly moved to stand beside Gianna. "The Hound and his bitch. He's so massive I'm sure he'll split her open when he takes her maidenhead!" Gianna looked down in shame at being spoken about in such a way.

“Your wedding will be the day after tomorrow.” With that Joffrey excused everyone. Gianna quickly left the throne room, rushing to her chambers. Tears were dripping down her face as threw herself on her bed; her head buried in her arms.

#sandor clegane #cersei lannister #jaime lannister #tyrion lannister #tywin lannister #house lannister #joffrey baratheon #meryn trant #sansa stark #lady #GoT #game of thrones #the hound #hound #robb stark #lancel lannister #forced marriage #maidenhead

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writingsofwesteros · 7 months

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Hey can I request if it's okay and open?💖💖💖

Cuz goshhh I would like Tywin fucking her young innocent wife!reader in the gardens, away from people but still quite public. Just having him fucking the reader full. Their deeds are hidden under her gown, keeping her quiet so they will not get found. (Hey, that rhymes)

Just with a sprinkle of size kink, overstimulation, and breeding kink here and there, like uuughhh, take me please 😩😩

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face into his neck, swallowing another whine. It's just so hard— sitting in his lap, legs spread wide around his waist, impaled on his thick cock. The blood red Lannister gown hiding the act as his strong arms were wrapped around you whilst keeping you steady against him. The soft, distant chatter around you both had a pink hue coming over your cheeks as you locked eyes with him. Tywin’s dark smirk tugged on his lips as his hands slowly began to stroke up and down your sides now. His thumb brushed over your sweet, pebbled nipple over the rich material of your dress. “Please…”

You hardly knew what you were begging for now as his dark chuckle only continued to echo in your ears. “Hmm, what is it you want, my dear?” Tywin purred; amusement dripping in his tone as you shivered in his hold. He slowly began to rock his hips now. His hold only tightening as you whined out prettily; louder than you intended. His hand slowly moved to your neck now and brought your face closer. Soon, his lips were passionately capturing your own soft ones. “Can —ah, …oh, can we go inside?” Your words fumble from your soft lips as you whimper out his name. “Hmm, I am sure you were hungry for this. It was you who climbed on my lap, was it not?” Tywin continued to taunt.

All you could do was burrow into his neck; a bright blush moving across your cheeks. Why did you think you would be given such mercy, you thought to yourself. Still, you could not help yourself as the pleasure only intensified. Those soft, ample breasts of yours were pressed against his chest as Tywin only kept you impossibly close. The obscene, wet squelching your creamy pussy was making as his fat, throbbing cock pushed in and out echoed around you both for a moment. Your hand gracefully moved to his shoulder as you locked eyes once more. His free hand moved towards your hip now and began to move you. A sharp gasp escaping you with ease.

The skirts of your dress as ever kept you from view but it did nothing to calm you. His own rocking of his hips continued. His fat, throbbing head was pushing against your sweet, spongy spot with ease at each thrust. Tywin groaned and his hand reached the back of your neck before crashing his lips onto yours once more. His tongue pushed inside your hot mouth as your moans were finally muffled. Your drool makes the kiss all the more wet and messy. Sweetly, you began to nibble on his soft, bottom lip as your bouncing only increased. Your head fell back as those thick locks of yours were safely up in the ruby pins Tywin had gifted to you.

Those bright eyes of your lion looked up at you as your pretty face began to screw up in the pleasure he gave you. His hands slowly moved towards your stomach now with his cock twitching inside you at the mere sight. Gods, Tywin could not wait to fill you up. His present heirs were such a disappointment but the ones with you would be different - he would make sure of it. Still, your body arched in pleasure. Your legs shook as your stomach only tightened some more in anticipation. Your creamy, soaked pussy clamped around his fat cock as your eyes rolled again. The pleasure is taking over with ease now. The wetness dripped and coated his thick length as your rocking quickened.

Tywin grunted into your ear as you eagerly began to milk him. Your toes curled in the soft shoes that were slowly falling from your feet. You were becoming more breathless by the second as you whined and whimpered some more. Tywin reached for your hips again and began to guide your movements as you sunk further onto him. There was no escape now, nor did you truly want to. Tywin knew that if his smirk was anything to go by. “Hmm, good girl, such a good girl.” He watched as your body began to shiver. Your climax softly moved over you in a wave as his rocking of his hips quickened; fucking you through your orgasm. Your wetness was squirting around his length with each thrust of his.

Still, his fat cock pushed in and out as you practically collapsed against him. Your soaked pussy was so creamy as sweet mewls of pleasure fell from your lips. Gods, you were so warm and tight, Tywin thought to himself. He could stay here forever and the old Lion was so tempted as well. Especially, when you were this pretty when you looked completely fucked. The soft afternoon breeze moved over your thin bodice; causing those ample breasts to pebble. Tywin’s mouth could only water as he hummed. A sharp gasp escaping you once more as he leaned in and hotly captured one of them. Your husband began to suck as your eyes rolled back and his thrusts only became harder.

“Ahh–ah, oh…” Each time his fat, leaking head brushed against your spongy spot; your mind softened. You hardly could remember where you were as he chuckled against you. Teasingly, Tywin began to nibble on your breast before his tongue kitten licked you. His fat, cock was throbbing each time as he groaned against you. A moan of surprise escaped you as two of his thicker fingers were stuffed inside your hot mouth; pushing down on your tongue. Your drool covered him easily as he bounced your body. The intense pleasure was making its presence known as you whimpered against him. “Ty—Tywin, I ah I can’t.” Still, he ignored you and began to push his fingers in and out. Your gagging only had Tywin quickening his thrusts as he pushed a third finger. Your eyes rolled as he pounded away; again and again before you were releasing around him once more. It was not long before his own climax came over him. His cum floods you whilst your body thrashed around like a woman possessed. “It seems you will have to stay sitting..if we want an heir.” Tywin purred; not that you heard any of his words as you whimpered and burrowed into his neck. Your body was still twitching before his attention moved towards the letters he had yet to open. Oh, how his life was good, the old Lion thought to himself with a chuckle.

#tywin lannister x reader #requests

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queeninthesouth-side · 2 years

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Ooh I had an interesting/cute fic idea (okay, based on a dream I had): fem!Reader is a sweet and compassionate lady of a lesser known House who wants to be a good wife to whomever her husband is, but she is avoided by other men because when she is asked to play her violin all she knows how to play is “The Rains of Castamere”. So when the Lannisters arrive at her family’s estate, fem!Reader is asked to play her violin after they arrive. Tywin surprises everyone by singing as she plays and that is how Tywin finds his second wife!

order up!! kicked my feet at this idea, my lady. also i read the last part of the req after I’d written literally all of it so he doesn’t sing in front of people to her but he does sing… also i have a kind of reverence for joanna when i write tywin usually but uhhhh dw abt her this time. I hope you enjoy, groovy-lady thank you sm for the req !! kiss kiss xx

As Long and Sharp as Yours

Tywin Lannister x f!Reader

House Dumain of The Diamond Isles was a lesser, but not unimpressive, house of the Westerlands, one known for fish-mongering and shipwrighting. The fine ships that comprised the Lannister fleet all came from the Diamond Isles, and this made your home a destination of interest to your liege lord Tywin Lannister. In half a moon’s turn, the Great Lion would be journeying to your home to attend a celebration of three centuries of unification between your house and the Lannisters.

As the eldest daughter of Lord Dronwyre and Lady Ellasayne of House Dumain, you were dubbed the Jewel of the Isle for your beauty and grace. What a shame, then, that no man of any surrounding house had made an offer for your hand in some time. Your handmaidens had told you the talk of the court they’d overheard from other maids. Men did not take interest in you for your seemingly untouchable beauty (and perhaps your protective brother and father had a part in this), and frustratingly, your lack of skill in the violin. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that you had not desired to learn it, and then when your mother insisted upon lessons, you refused to play anything but The Rains of Castamere. It frightened many of the younger lords to hear a lady play such a morbid tune. You enjoyed watching them squirm, though part of you hoped to see a man not cower away from you when you played.

“Daughter,” your father said, walking into your music room. “Your mother requires your presence for the event planning.”

You smiled from the window.

“And we wouldn’t dare disobey mother,” you laughed, putting your violin back into the open case by your stand.

“Of course not, my girl. Only fools disobey their wife on certain things.”

“I shall go see to her,” you said airily, gliding past your father and giving him a kiss upon the cheek as you passed to the hall where the most noise was being made. Organising events had been one particular duty your mother assured you’d be more than proficient in. The trick to being a good wife is to be an informed woman, your mother would often say. Thus, her frustrations when you refused to learn more with the violin. She’d even had you try the harp and the piano, but again, you’d learned enough to play The Rains of Castamere and nothing more.

For an entire week, your mother and you organised accommodations for your guests--who’d be arriving any day now--a menu for the entire event, entertainment including a small orchestra, and of course, your mother made sure to lecture you on finding a husband during the three-day event. You knew she was getting antsy to see you betrothed as you’d surpassed the age she was when she was already wed and with child with your father. She never failed to remind you of this, especially as the day of Lord Lannister’s arrival drew ever near.

When the lesser guests began arriving, gentlemen seemed to flock to you, but you waved them away to linger by your older brother, who easily glared any would-be suitors away from you both. It was working splendidly until the Lord Lannister himself entered the ballroom, having arrived earlier in the day from a small stop in Lannisport to oversee his immediate domain. His presence was unmistakable, his emerald glare sure and confident. You’d never seen that look in any young lord’s eyes, or even your brother’s for as fierce as he was.

Your father gestured you over to meet the Lord with your brother and mother.

“My Lord,” your father bowed, your mother curtseying daintily beside him, a perfect lady in all ways. You really did hope to be as impressive as her in time, though, as she reminded, she already had a head-start on you. “May I introduce my son and heir and my daughter, the Jewel of the Isles,” your father said, gesturing to you and stating your names. Lord Lannister looked intently at you after hearing your moniker. It was hardly as impressive as The Great Lion, but nothing really was.

“My Lord,” you said, curtseying just as your mother had. Your dress, in blue, your favourite colour, was different from the ones worn in places like the capitol. It flowed around you like water, and the diamonds around your wrist and throat gave you the appearance that you’d walked to the sea by your home and adorned yourself in its sparkling hues. You did not speak more, but you felt a gaze settle on you throughout the night as your mother made you dance with any lord that asked. As yet another lord stepped on your foot, you felt a presence beside you.

“Allow me to cut in,” the deep voice of the Great Lion spoke, effortlessly transferring your partner with himself and all but dismissing the younger lord with two left feet. “If he stood on your foot another time, I worried he may have broken it,” he said as an explanation. You smiled gratefully and thanked him for his intervention. Then, before you could stop yourself, asked him about his home. You’d been to the Rock once as a girl, and hardly remembered anything but the sheer size of the place and all the gold inside it.

Lord Lannister did not give pause before he began telling, very factually, any detail about his home he felt worth sharing. The way the sun set over the sea was a detail he mentioned that you particularly enjoyed. You asked if he had any paintings done of the sunsets, and though he answered in the negative, a curious light entered his eyes, as though he was considering the idea. When your dance ended, he bowed, you curtseyed, and he excused himself from the festivities, citing he was weary from days of travel. The young lords lined up to dance with you again once he’d left, all even more eager now you’d caught the eye of a man far beyond their status.

When you were finally free from the welcoming party, you stumbled to bed and fell into a dead sleep, dreaming of sunsets, green pastures and even greener eyes.

“Our Liege Lord was hardly able to keep his eyes off you,” your brother Darwyn said as he collected you from your rooms for the luncheon your mother and you had organised. The small orchestra would play while you dined in the gardens that overlooked the sea. It was your favourite place to take your meals in the entire keep, and your mother had allowed you to mostly plan it all as practice for being the wife of a lord.

“Our Liege Lord is not to be spoken like gossip, brother,” you scolded. For all your rebellion with the violin, you could hardly fathom acting out in any other way. Your brother though had a penchant for rule-breaking, even if he was very good at not being caught.

“Bah,” he waved you away. “Even father noticed, and he would rather swallow a live herring than marry you off.” It was true, and one of the foremost reasons you hadn’t been wed yet at twenty summers old. Your lord father was renowned for his protectiveness of his only daughter. “You may be wed sooner than you think,” Darwyn said teasingly as you arrived at the outdoor gardens, just in time for everyone to note your arrival, and your subsequent blush from your brother’s words.

You sat the head table, your brother to your right, then to his right, Lord Lannister followed by your father then mother. As the Liege Lord and the guest of honour, he sat at the Lord’s table. You were grateful for the buffer your brother presented as in the seating arrangements. Lord Tywin was a handsome man, and your brother teasing you made you blush, not from embarrassment, but from how delighted you were at the idea of being Lady Lannister. You wondered if he was considering remarrying. It had been over half a decade since his first wife had perished from a fever barely a year into their marriage, and though it was no love match, stories of the Great Lion’s turmoil at his wife’s death had reached as far as the Starks in the north.

The orchestra played a soothing, if jolly, tune which loosened the atmosphere enough for the guests to talk amongst themselves. You were enjoying the fish and clam soup made from fresh seafood caught overnight when Lord Fremont, one of the men that had danced with you (and stepped on your toes) the night before. He tapped his fork against his goblet, catching the attention of everyone in attendance and silencing the orchestra.

“My Liege Lord, my Lords and Ladies, may I toast to the Westerlands! Three hundred years strong and as beautiful as ever because of this!” Everyone raised their goblets and toasted a “here, here!” in unison. But the young Lord was not finished. “We have all heard tales of the beauty of the Jewel of the Isles, but I have also heard she plays the violin as birds sing. May we request a song, my Lady?”

Your mother shot you a look that both said “Don’t do it” and “You cannot refuse”. With a gentle squeeze on your arm from your brother, you stood, asked for your violin to be fetched, then once it was in your hands, walked to the raised dais where the orchestra was sitting. You whispered to the conductor (who had taught you the violin himself), and at his smile and nod, you took the seat of the violin player.

“I have many talents,” you began, “music is not one of them, but I do know a song our Liege Lord may enjoy.”

You played the first notes softly and repetitively until the orchestra had joined you, then you began playing in earnest.

“And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?”

You watched your family as you sung. You had not told them you could and made sure never to do it in front of others, but this seemed as good a chance as any to reveal this little talent. The orchestra played softly enough to allow your violin to be heard over the other instruments, and you always found the sinister nature of the song was made almost sweet by the higher register of a violin.

“And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours.”

Many of the young lords, including Lord Fremont, had looked away already, but Lord Lannister had kept his eyes on you the entire song. By the time the last notes floated softly from your strings, the Lord’s eyes had shut softly, as though to savour the sounds. You stood and curtseyed once the song was over, and to your horror, Lord Tywin had leaned over to your father, whispered something, stood and left.

You walked back to your seat after handing off your violin, then sat in choked silence as the rest of the courses of the feast came and went. You excused yourself as quickly as possible to your rooms to hide from the shame of displeasing your Liege Lord. No man in attendance would ask for your hand now, and there was no way any lady of a great house would take you as her lady-in-waiting once news spread. You were doomed. Utterly doomed.

A knock sounded at your door, and your mother entered a moment after, looking pale with tears in her eyes. It was much worse, then, if your mother was so rattled. She hardly ever faltered unless something tragic had happened. Perhaps the Lord was so displeased he would see to your death for even daring to play his song.

“You are to be wed to Lord Lannister in a sennight,” she whispered. You nodded sadly, then understood her words and snapped your head up to look her in the eyes, the same colour and shape of yours. “He says you have enchanted him, even more so with the reverence of your performance.”

“He— I’m… Pardon?”

Your mother burst into tears and moved to embrace you tightly. She was smiling now, though her tears persisted. She was sad you’d be leaving home, but pleased you’d managed to secure a marriage to your Liege Lord.

In a flurry of action, you found yourself in your father’s solar alone with Lord Lannister, who stood by the window. He made an imposing silhouette against the bright glint from the sea. When the door snicked shut, he turned to face you. You curtseyed and waited for him to speak with your hands clasped in front of your abdomen.

“You mentioned you had no talent for music, my lady. Are you a liar or unaware of your gifts?”

You looked up startled.

“I did not qualify for the orchestra when I was a music student, my lord. I have no talent apart for that song in particular, I assure you.”

“Well, how fortuitous that I am of the opinion that only that song matters. Come here, my lady.”

You walked forward to him, the flush on your face growing with each step. He was so intimidating, but you wanted to look at him, to study his face and form, fine as it all was.

“Let me see the Jewel of the Isles,” he said, tipping your chin up with his finger. “There is something to be said about a beautiful lady growing in a beautiful home. You are singularly lovely, my lady.”

��You’re so handsome,” you blurted before you could refrain. You covered your mouth with a delicate hand, as though to stifle anymore words physically. Lord Tywin’s lips turned up ever so slightly, and his chest puffed infinitesimally.

“My thanks, my lady, for the generous words.” He stepped forward, holding out a hand which you took without hesitation, though you weren’t sure what he was to do. He guided you to him, a firm arm wrapping around your waist, the other taking your hand in his. “Would you humour me, my lady? I must hear your voice again.”

You smiled and followed as he led you into a slow waltz as you sang his song for him. His eyes shut again as you both danced, and as you finished the song and his eyes opened again, you wondered if perhaps your favourite colour was green, after all.

“There you are, my Jewel,” your husband said from behind you. You smiled and turned from the window where you watched the sunset, your son slumbering peacefully in your arms. “And how is the little Lord?”

“As gluttonous as his father for my attention,” you smiled sweetly at him, laughing lightly at his mock offence.

“A young man of taste, then.”

“And how are you, my Lord? Have you completed your day’s duties?”

“Indeed, and I believe I am in the mood for a song, wife.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and placed your son in his cot behind a curtain, hushing him when he grumbled at no longer being held. He wanted to be in your arms or his father’s, and anyone else was simply not up to par. He settled after a moment, too sleepy to fuss much.

“And what song would you like, my Lord?” you asked coyly, moving to him to take your position in his arms.

“Which song do I always request, wife,” he huffed. You hummed a smile, eyes closed as he swayed you both.

“It escapes my mind at the moment, my Lord.”

Tywin raised a brow then swooped to press his teeth gently to your pulse, kissing the sting away and making you gasp. It had been over a year, and not once had your husband ever requested another song, or insist you learn any others. He seemed perfectly satisfied with you knowing only his and singing it to him at his request (which happened to be often).

Then, to your shock and delight, he began to sing. The words, far more suited to his baritone and husk, washed over you as he led you in a gentle dance.

“In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws,” he sung.

“And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours,” you finished, your voices mingling in harmony.

Even when the song ended, neither of you parted or ceased the sweet dance. The Great Lion had wooed you so thoroughly that you could not help but love him as ardently as the sun shines.

“Tywin,” you whispered. Anything louder than the slight volume would shatter the moment.

“My Jewel?”

You leaned up to kiss him, sighing when his stubble (which you insisted he keep) scratched gently at your lips.

“I’m so glad that fool asked me to sing your song.”

Tywin kissed you again, then glanced behind you to the curtain that shrouded your sleeping son.

“Not as glad as I am,” he said, swooping down once more.

#request complete #game of thrones #tywin lannister x reader #tywin x reader #got x reader #tywin lannister

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