#Loras Tyrell x Sansa Stark

[ineedminions]

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

#Sansa Stark #Loras Tyrell #Willas Tyrell #Sansa stark x willas Tyrell #Willas tyrell x Sansa Stark #Sansa Stark x Loras Tyrell #Loras Tyrell x Sansa Stark #Renly Baratheon x Loras Tyrell #Loras Tyrell x Renly Baratheon #Unconventional family #fic #writing is hard

[alaynasansa]

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

#sansa stark #waymar royce #loras tyrell #jon x sansa #jonsa #jonsa foreshadowing

[raspberryfingers]

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

WARNINGS: Mentions of sex

Word Count: 9.3k

—————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which is what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Rather observant of you.”

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

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

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

“Since when does Tywin Lannister compromise?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Useful?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fucking her, aren’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Father-“

“Out!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

“Loras?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, Loras.”

“I love you more, sister.”

“Impossible.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, not particularly.”

“Preoccupied with something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cersei.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

“Tywin, are you drunk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I had… quite a bit…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

“Yes, I did. Why?”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Tywin…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TAGLIST:

@cheyxfu @lemonscoffee @groovy-lady 

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

@prettykinkysoul 

@fullmoonshadowwrites @kishie8 

@the-desilittle-bird @dianilaws @girlonfireice 

@muscari-fae @lostgirllulu 

@abigfanofgameofthrones @smalltownbigheart 

@frombloodandflesh @supernaturalismyreligion666

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

#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #tywin x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #asoiaf #cersei lannister #loras tyrell #sansa stark #a lion in the garden

[daenystheedreamer]

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

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

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

#would love the conversation where willas realises sansa hasnt figured out that loras is gay and has to sit her down and go. Sansa he is a fa #ask #anonymous #willas tyrell #sansa stark #sansa x willas

[johnmihombre]

#game of thrones #sansan #sansa stark #sandor clegane #loras tyrell #sandor x sansa #sandor x loras #poliamor

[male-22-fan]

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

#asoiaf #game of thrones #sandor clegane #sansa stark #sansa x sandor #loras tyrell #sandorxloras #omegaverse

[bulzell]

Loras😡🚬📷

#loras tyrell #game of thrones #GOT #margaery tyrell #sansa stark #sansaery #sansa x margaery

[inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800]

MY DARKEST DESIRE (joffrey baratheon x dark! reader)

Joffrey Baratheon x yandere! Reader

PART 1 OF 3

*I am sorry for the inappropriate use that this text can present in English, I have translated it on google.

TW: NON-CON, emotional manipulation, unhealthy behaviors. Obvious divergence from the canon. That's right, I'm hungry and I want Joffrey to suffer, so here goes.

You were the only daughter of Petyr Baelish.

How did he decide to take care of you? Easy, you were related to the Tullys: your mother was a member of that honorable house that in her youth fell in love with the charming Petyr, that was the only reason he took you under his care. He didn't love your mother, but having you was a point of power over that family, and obviously, it gave him a certain prestige that your father didn't intend to waste.

You couldn't blame him.

Since you were little he had taught you how cunning surpassed honor, and he had made you part of his strategies through innocent father/daughter games. Who could suspect that under the table was an innocent girl listening to conspiracy plans?

You grew up through power plays, secrets between nobles, and making connections at a young age. At your age, you already conspired with your father in the death of Jon Arryn.

You were like his only partner in crime. He told you about his plans, you fulfilled his wishes for influence in other houses, you told him your suspicions and you confessed what you wanted most: to help him be on the iron throne.

Now you were on a walk with Lady Margaery, both of you were alone and politely, you stroked her hair. Anyone would say they were friends with her, but you only saw her as a lever for power. You had known her since her arrival in King's Landing, wearing your classic mask of fear of King Joffrey's violence and your feigned kindness to any maiden in the Red Keep. So you tricked Sansa, the poor redhead who desperately needed someone kind in her life, into the mercy of the Arryn according to your father's plan and she was safe there.

"Everything okay, lady?" Margaery's lovely voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

You ignored the strange pressure in your chest when you thought about the Stark's future.

"That's right, my rose." You gave her a seductive look, Margaery tried to hide her blush by pretending to pick some other flower.

But you knew her well. You knew of the Tyrell ways, of his trickery, and of Margaery's purpose: to become queen. You became close to the future queen according to your plan: to become someone trustworthy (by advising her, joking with her and sharing your false worries like not knowing whom to marry) … and she responded with gradually spontaneous smiles, answering your jokes with wit and offering you the possibility of marrying Loras, as if you were humble in the first place.

Little by little, you became friends with her (getting petting, talking with Loras like they were old friends, as well as having intelligent conversations with Olenna, the true Tyrell mastermind). Secretly, you took advantage of everything you could to learn more about the Tyrell through oral data that the young woman gave you. And then came the hardest step to do: seduce her.

When you were thirteen, your father took you to one of his brothels. You knew from a young age what he was working, but you had never seen what happened inside. There he showed you the prostitutes, how the pleasure business worked, the nobles who requested his services and in the company of women of pleasure, he taught you how to please a man or a woman, or even tactics that would make anyone submissive of Dorne.

And you did your duty.

Over several moons, you meekly began to make advances to the ambitious Tyrell. At first, she feigned innocence and even mild rejection of your advances, but thanks to your parents' spies, you knew that she spoke positively about you whenever she could with her grandmother. You mentioned it to your father and he proudly admitted that having you was positive. That was the best, even though you were cunning, cruel and calculating, you loved the love that your father gave you. So encouraged, the caresses turned into kisses and these into sexual acts. You pleased her, you pretended to be an angel by her side, and you sweetened her with words of always being by her side, helping her when she is queen. However, you only executed the steps to bring the Baelish name closer to power.

“At a good time I see them. “the hoarse voice of the Tyrell matriarch was present, you made the classic bow as the protocol said,” Don’t bother, girl. Hey Loras! Come here, help your grandmother.”

You coldly thought how to fully gain the trust of the queen of thorns.

"It's nice to have you around."

"No way, little girl! I know you will join us soon.”

You smiled, if only they knew…

—

You notified your father of the progress with the Tyrells. His smile appeared on his face when you told him everything you achieved during these last three months. You didn't see him because he was in the Eyrie, courting Lady Lysa.

"You know this is the hardest part, right?"

You nodded. It wasn't just about cajoling the Tyrells, you had to influence the littles Baratheon.

After a short dialogue, you left in the direction of the palace.

You politely greeted the nobles who were around and decisively went to where King Joffrey should be.

"Isn't this place a bit dangerous for a young woman?"

Inwardly you frowned, the Spider's sweet words irritated you. You had known him for as long as you could remember, your father's rival, the same man who had given you your first candies simply to separate you from your father.

“I am touched by his concern, Lord Varys. And at the same time, I am amazed that you are here. I'm at the request of a maid, you know.”

"The king has grown braver" he replied with his classic wide eyes.

"Such bravery will shed blood."

You bowed your head to say goodbye and left. You quickly mentally replayed all his gestures and words.

You concluded that Joffrey was in a bad mood, a mortal danger to anyone who came near. Better you should go to Tommen, though that meant daringly dodging the queen regent. You faked a downcast look when you entered Tommen's playground, luckily his mother wasn't near him, but that didn't mean anything safe, there were guards everywhere and he was surrounded by other young nobles.

You chattered with false joy until you approached the shy Baratheon, you couldn't blame him. The fact of growing up with a beast eager for pain had reduced his extroversion, making him closed and even tender, for a moment, you felt remorse, but you discarded those annoying thoughts thinking of making your father happy. That was the most important thing.

“Do you like salmon chunks, your grace?

Tommen blushed. You knew why, his cat Sir Pounce especially enjoyed that fish, and Tommen fed it secretly because if he did it in public, Joffrey would show his cruelty. You knew this from your own spies in the kitchens, and besides, you served dinner from time to time when Tommen was feeling blue to eat with the others.

"Yes, I like it a lot”

"I'm glad. Tonight we will prepare various dishes and with your confirmation I could make some extra dishes of cooked salmon along with chicken and cream of duck with herbs for you”

"I would like that, thank you, Lady Baelish."

"You're welcome, your highness."

Under shy and polite smiles, you walked away. You were not to give suspicion to your alleged lover Margaery Tyrell or the others.

Tonight could be the beginning of another step for the father's plan.

@yandere-stan @yandere-daydreams @megsironthrone @letsasoiaftogetherftogether @missglaskinkin @witchthewritertchthewriter @a-libra-writesa-writes  @agent-whiskeys-sweetheartweetheart @ladywinterwitchinterwitch @anxiousnerdwritings

#joffrey baratheon #joffrey #joffrey lannister #joffrey baratheon x reader #wattpad #books #yandere #yandere reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #asoiaf #got #petyr baelish #littlefinger #varys #tommen baratheon #margaery tyrell #lady margaery tyrell #the tyrell #house tyrell #obssesive reader #girl yandere #yandere game of thrones #yandere oneshot #joffrey baratheon is the victim now #subjoffrey baratheon #dom reader

[skinnywalker]

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#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader #slasher x male reader #slasher x reader #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #the sandman x reader #the lost boys x reader #dungeons and dragons honor among thieves #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fanfic

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: Alayne II (Sansa III) [Chapter 41]

My little sweet tea! ❤️

I'm a Sansa fan, and even I find the length of this chapter alarming.

She turned the iron ring and pushed the door open, just a crack. "Sweetrobin?" she called. "May I enter?"

"Have a care, m'lady," warned old Gretchel, wringing her hands. "His lordship threw his chamber pot at the maester."

"Then he has none to throw at me. Isn't there some work you should be doing? And you, Maddy . . . are all the windows closed and shuttered? Have all the furnishings been covered?"

"All of them, m'lady," said Maddy.

"Best make certain of it."

Have you forgotten this is a 13-year-old kid?

Because the author would like you to.

+.+.+

"I heard my Sweetrobin was ailing." After his encounter with the chamber pot the maester had come running to Ser Lothor, and Brune had come to her.

His mother?

+.+.+

"No," he said, "but I'm not going. I want to stay in bed. You could read to me about the Winged Knight."

The Winged Knight was Ser Artys Arryn. Legend said that he had driven the First Men from the Vale and flown to the top of the Giant's Lance on a huge falcon to slay the Griffin King. There were a hundred tales of his adventures.

Dragonrider imagery featuring a dead Griffin King.

+.+.+

Alayne slipped into the darkened bedchamber. "It's only me, Sweetrobin."

Someone sniffled in the darkness. "Are you alone?"

x

"It is too dark in here for reading." The heavy curtains drawn across the windows made the bedchamber black as night. 

x

"Might I let some sun in?" "No. The light hurts my eyes. Come to bed, Alayne." "I shan't open them very wide. Only enough to see my Sweetrobin's face."

He sniffled. "If you must."

x

"I don't love her. She's just the mule girl." Robert sniffled. 

x

"I could do it," Lord Robert said, "but I don't choose to." He swiped at his runny nose with the back of his hand. 

Take note, they're in a dark bedchamber, and Robert keeps sniffling.

Robert Arryn has never sniffled in any Sansa chapter until now.

+.+.+

She sat on the bed and smoothed his long, fine hair. He does have pretty hair.

Sansa's got a kink.

Tenderly she reached out and brushed back his soft blond hair. - Sansa I, AGOT

+.+.+

Before she could summon the servants, however, Sweetrobin threw his skinny arms around her and kissed her. It was a little boy's kiss, and clumsy. Everything Robert Arryn did was clumsy. If I close my eyes I can pretend he is the Knight of Flowers. Ser Loras had given Sansa Stark a red rose once, but he had never kissed her . . . and no Tyrell would ever kiss Alayne Stone. Pretty as she was, she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.

Sounds like we need another bastard.

For those keeping score, here's the people and things Sansa has been forced to kiss:

Ser Dontos.

Give your Florian a little kiss now. A kiss for luck. - Sansa IV, ACOK

Joffrey's sword.

"Bless my steel with a kiss." He extended the blade down to her. "Go on, kiss it." - Sansa V, ACOK

Sandor Clegane. (In her head. The reality of the situation was far worse.)

He kissed me and threatened to kill me, and made me sing him a song. - Sansa II, ASOS

Tyrion Lannister.

"With this kiss I pledge my love," the dwarf replied hoarsely, "and take you for my lady and wife." He leaned forward, and their lips touched briefly. - Sansa III, ASOS

Littlefinger.

Sansa tried to step back, but he pulled her into his arms and suddenly he was kissing her. - Sansa VII, ASOS

And Robert Arryn.

If you don't think this ongoing nightmare will be set right, I don't know what to tell you.

+.+.+

As the boy's lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak.

It made no matter. That day was done, and so was Sansa.

That's not what he came for, but I'll let you cope.

+.+.+

Maddy and Gretchel might listen all they wished, but they would hear nothing. That was just as well. Gretchel could hold her tongue, but Maddy gossiped shamelessly.

x

Robert's squires had turned up as well. Terrance and Gyles could always sniff out trouble.

Lady Alayne knows her staff well.

+.+.+

"Lord Robert is feeling stronger," Alayne told the serving women. "Fetch hot water for his bath, but see you don't scald him. And do not pull on his hair when you brush out the tangles, he hates that." One of the squires sniggered, until she said, "Terrance, lay out his lordship's riding clothes and his warmest cloak. Gyles, you may clean up that broken chamber pot."

Yes, Your Grace.

+.+.+

"His fingers trembled a little bit when I held his hand, that's all. He says you put something vile in his milk."

"Vile?" Colemon blinked at her, and the apple in his throat moved up and down. "I merely . . . is he bleeding from the nose?"

"No."

"Good. That is good."

[...]

Alayne understood all that well enough, but it meant that the burden of getting Sweetrobin safely down the mountain fell on her. "Give his lordship a cup of sweetmilk," she told the maester. "That will stop him from shaking on the journey down."

"He had a cup not three days past," Colemon objected.

"And wanted another last night, which you refused him."

"It was too soon. My lady, you do not understand. As I've told the Lord Protector, a pinch of sweetsleep will prevent the shaking, but it does not leave the flesh, and in time . . ."

"Time will not matter if his lordship has a shaking fit and falls off the mountain. If my father were here, I know he would tell you to keep Lord Robert calm at all costs."

"I try, my lady, yet his fits grow ever more violent, and his blood is so thin I dare not leech him any more. Sweetsleep . . . you are certain he was not bleeding from the nose?"

"He was sniffling," Alayne admitted, "but I saw no blood."

My gut tells me that boy was in fact bleeding from the nose, and this maester is a dimwit for not checking on that himself.

It could not be more clear that Sansa has no clue how dangerous sweetsleep is, and this bumbling fool is doing a horrific job at making her understand.

+.+.+

They dare not let the full extent of Robert's frailty and cowardice become too widely known, her father had warned her.

In her mind she's protecting Robin.

+.+.+

Petyr Baelish was clear across the Vale, though, attending Lord Lyonel Corbray at his wedding. A widower of forty-odd years, and childless, Lord Lyonel was to wed the strapping sixteen-year-old daughter of a rich Gulltown merchant. Petyr had brokered the match himself. The bride's dower was said to be staggering; it had to be, since she was of common birth. Corbray's vassals would be there, with the Lords Waxley, Grafton, Lynderly, some petty lords and landed knights . . . and Lord Belmore, who had lately reconciled with her father. The other Lords Declarant were expected to shun the nuptials, so Petyr's presence was essential.

There's the first one. 1/6.

"Redfort and Waynwood are old. One or both of them may die. Gilwood Hunter will be murdered by his brothers. Most likely by young Harlan, who arranged Lord Eon's death. In for a penny, in for a stag, I always say. Belmore is corrupt and can be bought. Templeton I shall befriend. Bronze Yohn Royce will continue to be hostile, I fear, but so long as he stands alone he is not so much a threat." - Alayne I, AFFC

Too bad you pissed off Lyn Cobray in the process.

+.+.+

"Music soothes him," she corrected, "the high harp especially. It's singing he can't abide, since Marillion killed his mother." Alayne had told the lie so many times that she remembered it that way more oft than not; the other seemed no more than a bad dream that sometimes troubled her sleep.

Kind of like lying to yourself about the night you were almost raped and killed.

+.+.+

What would she do when the music began to play? It was a vexing question, to which her heart and head gave different answers. Sansa loved to dance, but Alayne . . .

The dancing girl will always follow her heart.

+.+.+

"Just give him a cup of the sweetmilk before we go, and another at the feast, and there should be no trouble."

"Very well." They paused at the foot of the stairs. "But this must be the last. For half a year, or longer."

For the record, he did have a cup of sweetmilk before they left, and will have more at the feast.

Please, she prayed, don't let him start to twitch and shake. Not here. Not now. Maester Coleman would have made certain that he drank a strong dose of sweetmilk before the feast, but even so. - Alayne I, TWOW

I have to admit, sometimes I question whether I'm denying the obvious when it comes to Robert Arryn.

+.+.+

Old snow cloaked the courtyard, and icicles hung down like crystal spears from the terraces and towers. The Eyrie was built of fine white stone, and winter's mantle made it whiter still. So beautiful, Alayne thought, so impregnable. 

Would you call it an enchantment?

+.+.+

She could not love this place, no matter how she tried. 

Don't think for one second they're going to let this interfere with their Lady of the Vale meta.

+.+.+

No one sang up there, not since Marillion. No one ever laughed too loud. Even the gods were silent. The Eyrie boasted a sept, but no septon; a godswood, but no heart tree. No prayers are answered here, she often thought, though some days she felt so lonely she had to try. Only the wind answered her, sighing endlessly around the seven slim white towers and rattling the Moon Door every time it gusted.

BRAN?!

+.+.+

Her father said there was no shame in being afraid, only in showing your fear. "All men live with fear," he said. Alayne was not certain she believed that. Nothing frightened Petyr Baelish. He only said that to make me brave.

There's nothing wrong with showing your fear.

Way to go, Ned. All you had to do was take a second and have this conversation with her before Baelish could.

+.+.+

"Don't be so certain, m'lady. She's half mule herself, that one. I think she'd leave us all to starve before she'd put those animals at risk." He smiled when he said it. He always smiles when he speaks of Mya Stone. Mya was much younger than Ser Lothor, but when her father had been brokering the marriage between Lord Corbray and his merchant's daughter, he'd told her that young girls were always happiest with older men. "Innocence and experience make for a perfect marriage," he had said.

Holy god, why do people believe Littlefinger actually plans to wed Sansa to Harry? Why.

Petyr Baelish had offered to wed the girl himself, she recalled, but of course that was impossible; he was much too lowborn. - Cersei II, ADWD

hello? HELLO??

+.+.+

Alayne wondered what Mya made of Ser Lothor. With his squashed nose, square jaw, and nap of woolly grey hair, Brune could not be called comely, but he was not ugly either. It is a common face but an honest one. Though he had risen to knighthood, Ser Lothor's birth had been very low. One night he had told her that he was kin to the Brunes of Brownhollow, an old knightly family from Crackclaw Point. "I went to them when my father died," he confessed, "but they shat on me, and said I was no blood of theirs." He would not speak of what happened after that, except to say that he had learned all he knew of arms the hard way. Sober, he was a quiet man, but a strong one. And Petyr says he's loyal. He trusts him as much as he trusts anyone. 

A bit more background on the Brunes and Cracklaw Point.

Lothor has an honest face, is quiet, strong, and loyal. If Sansa's saying it, trust it.

+.+.+

"M'lady," Ser Lothor said, "you'd best know. Mya didn't come up alone. Lady Myranda's with her."

"Oh." Why would she ride all the way up the mountain, just to ride back down again?

I think we downplay how completely insane it is that Myranda travelled all the way up this mountain only so she could ride down with Alayne.

+.+.+

"Soon or late you must meet Myranda Royce," Petyr had warned her. "When you do, be careful. She likes to play the merry fool, but underneath she's shrewder than her father. Guard your tongue around her."

I will, she thought, but I did not know I'd need to start so soon. "Robert will be pleased." He liked Myranda Royce.

Mya and Myranda are like sisters.

Littlefinger is cautious around Myranda.

Sweetrobin likes Myranda.

Everything we learn about Myranda is positive.

+.+.+

There was a scarf as well, and a pair of leather gloves lined with fur to match her riding boots. When she'd donned it all, she felt as fat and furry as a bear cub.

The snowy bear cub will be riding a mule through the harsh elements.

Eat your heart out, pantry.

+.+.+

She took one last look at her room before she left. I was safe here, she thought, but down below . .

Sansa always knows.

+.+.+

"He needs to make some haste. It's getting colder, can't you feel it? We need to get below Snow before the sun goes down."

Do you have any idea how funny this sentence is?

+.+.+

"My lord," said Mya, "will you ride down with me?"

Too brusque, Alayne thought. She should have greeted him with a smile, told him how strong and brave he looks.

You ever notice Sansa's strengths are Jon's weaknesses?

+.+.+

The sky cells on the lower levels made the castle look something like a honeycomb from below. A honeycomb made of ice, Alayne thought, a castle made of snow. 

That's a misdirection.

And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow. - Arya VIII, AFFC

He doesn't die in the Eyrie. They can't go up the mountain during winter.

+.+.+

She [Myranda Royce] got to her feet and brushed the snow from her skirts. "And you must be the Lord Protector's daughter," she added, as the bucket went rattling back up to the Eyrie. "I had heard that you were beautiful. I see that it is true."

Alayne curtsied. "My lady is kind to say so."

"Kind?" The older girl gave a laugh. "How boring that would be. I aspire to be wicked. You must tell me all your secrets on the ride down. May I call you Alayne?"

What else would you call her?

Sansa using 'my lady' is not a tell, but it will quickly become one.

+.+.+

"If you wish, my lady." But you'll get no secrets from me.

Unreliable narrator Sansa Stark.

You're in way over your head, kid.

+.+.+

"I am 'my lady' at the Gates, but up here on the mountain you may call me Randa. How many years have you, Alayne?"

"Four-and-ten, my lady." She had decided that Alayne Stone should be older than Sansa Stark.

You can remove the girl from high nobility, but you can't remove the high nobility from the girl.

She had decided that Alayne Stone should be older than Sansa Stark.

aka the author is doing everything he can.

+.+.+

"Randa. It seems a hundred years since I was four-and-ten. How innocent I was. Are you still innocent, Alayne?"

She blushed. "You should not . . . yes, of course."

It's not every day you see a bastard correct a highborn girl.

+.+.+

Up here where the slope was steepest, the steps wound back and forth rather than plunging straight down. Sansa Stark went up the mountain, but Alayne Stone is coming down. It was a strange thought.

No real comment, but how could I leave it out?

+.+.+

I could close my eyes. The mule knows the way, he has no need of me. But that seemed more something Sansa would have done, that frightened girl. Alayne was an older woman, and bastard brave.

Sansa associates bastards with bravery.

When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. - Sansa III, AGOT

We're 33% of the way there!

+.+.+

"We have had a letter from your father," she said, as casually as if they were sitting with their septa, doing needlework. "He is on his way home, he says, and hopes to see his darling daughter soon. He writes that Lyonel Corbray seems well pleased with his bride, and even more so with her dowry. I do hope Lord Lyonel remembers which one he needs to bed. Lady Waynwood turned up with the Knight of Ninestars for the wedding feast, Lord Petyr says, to everyone's astonishment."

"Anya Waynwood? Truly?" The Lords Declarant were down from six to three, it would seem. The day he'd departed the mountain, Petyr Baelish had been confident of winning Symond Templeton to his side, but not so Lady Waynwood.

She said it before I could. 3/6.

"Redfort and Waynwood are old. One or both of them may die. Gilwood Hunter will be murdered by his brothers. Most likely by young Harlan, who arranged Lord Eon's death. In for a penny, in for a stag, I always say. Belmore is corrupt and can be bought. Templeton I shall befriend. Bronze Yohn Royce will continue to be hostile, I fear, but so long as he stands alone he is not so much a threat." - Alayne I, AFFC

Too bad you pissed off Lyn Cobray in the process.

+.+.+

"Not from your father, no, but we've had other birds. The war goes on, everywhere but here. Riverrun has yielded, but Dragonstone and Storm's End still hold for Lord Stannis."

"Lady Lysa was so wise, to keep us out of it."

Myranda gave her a shrewd little smile. "Yes, she was the very soul of wisdom, that good lady."

Timeline check. Sansa's slightly ahead of Jaime.

+.+.+

There's a new High Septon, did you know? Oh, and the Night's Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark's."

"Jon Snow?" she blurted out, surprised.

Alayne, did you know you spent your entire childhood with the Faith, studying to become a septa? And did you know you have no idea who Eddard Stark's bastard is?

+.+.+

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. 

+.+.+

But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.

I believe you, author.

+.+.+

"Our cousin Bronze Yohn had himself a mêlée at Runestone," Myranda Royce went on, oblivious, "a small one, just for squires. It was meant for Harry the Heir to win the honors, and so he did."

"Harry the Heir?"

"Lady Waynwood's ward. Harrold Hardyng. I suppose we must call him Ser Harry now. Bronze Yohn knighted him."

Bronze Yohn was scheming.

+.+.+

"Oh, yes. He died on top of me. In me, if truth be told. You do know what goes on in a marriage bed, I hope?"

She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he'd kissed her, and gave a nod. "That must have been dreadful, my lady. Him dying. There, I mean, whilst . . . whilst he was . . ."

". . . fucking me?"

Lol, I love Myranda. She better not disappoint me.

+.+.+

"As you say, my lady." Alayne remembered Petyr's warning.

"Randa. Come now, you can say it. Ran. Da."

You're doing amazing, sweetie.

+.+.+

"Much better. I fear I must apologize to you. You will think me a dreadful slut, I know, but I bedded that pretty boy Marillion. I did not know he was a monster. He sang beautifully, and could do the sweetest things with his fingers. I would never have taken him to bed if I had known he was going to push Lady Lysa through the Moon Door. I do not bed monsters, as a rule." 

That right there might be a problem. When did that happen?

Remember who accompanied Catelyn Stark to the Vale? Remember who met Littlefinger's daughter when she still had red hair?

Stumpy remembers.

+.+.+

She studied Alayne's face and chest. "You are prettier than me, but my breasts are larger. The maesters say large breasts produce no more milk than small ones, but I do not believe it. Have you ever known a wet nurse with small teats? Yours are ample for a girl your age, but as they are bastard breasts, I shan't concern myself with them." 

Here's another reminder that Sansa is 13 and the young woman eyeing her up and down like a rival is 20.

+.+.+

Mychel Redfort was the one. He used to be Lyn Corbray's squire. A real squire, not like that loutish lad Ser Lyn's got squiring for him now. He only took that one on for coin, they say. 

We're still not sure who this loutish squire is.

Alayne's giggle drew Corbray's attention. He handed his shield to his loutish squire, removed his helm and quilted coif. - Alayne I, TWOW

+.+.+

"Do you think Ser Lothor likes her as she is, in mail and leather?" she asked the older girl, who seemed so worldly-wise. "Or does he dream of her draped in silks and velvets?"

"He's a man. He dreams of her naked."

Lol.

+.+.+

"Does your father plan to wed again?"

"My father?" Alayne had never considered that. Somehow the notion made her squirm. 

Why, because you have a sixth sense and deep down you know he plans to wed you?

+.+.+

He needs a pretty young wife to wash away his grief. I imagine he could have his pick of half the noble maidens in the Vale. Who could be a better husband than our own bold Lord Protector? 

Hold this.

+.+.+

Though I do wish he had a better name than Littlefinger. How little is it, do you know?"

"His finger?" She blushed again. "I don't . . . I never . . ."

Totally normal thing you might ask his daughter.

+.+.+

"It's best to lead the mules across," Mya said. "If it please my lord, I'll take mine over first, then come back for yours." Lord Robert did not answer. He was staring at the narrow saddle with his reddened eyes. "I shan't be long, my lord," Mya promised, but Alayne doubted that the boy could even hear her.

When the bastard girl led her mule out from beneath the shelter of the spire, the wind caught her in its teeth. Her cloak lifted, twisting and flapping in the air. Mya staggered, and for half a heartbeat it seemed as if she would be blown over the precipice, but somehow she regained her balance and went on.

Alayne took Robert's gloved hand in her own to stop his shaking. "Sweetrobin," she said, "I'm scared. Hold my hand, and help me get across. I know you're not afraid."

He looked at her, his pupils small dark pinpricks in eyes as big and white as eggs. "I'm not?"

"Not you. You're my winged knight, Ser Sweetrobin."

"The Winged Knight could fly," Robert whispered.

"Higher than the mountains." She gave his hand a squeeze.

Lady Myranda had joined them by the spire. "He could," she echoed, when she saw what was happening.

"Ser Sweetrobin," Lord Robert said, and Alayne knew that she dare not wait for Mya to return. She helped the boy dismount, and hand in hand they walked out onto the bare stone saddle, their cloaks snapping and flapping behind them. All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. 

[...]

And then they were on the other side, and Mya Stone was laughing and lifting Robert for a hug.

Look at our girl! Catelyn is made of steel, and this nearly broke her.

"Lady Stark," Mya called across the gulf. The girl sounded a thousand leagues away. "Are you well?"

Catelyn Tully Stark swallowed what remained of her pride. "I … I cannot do this, child," she called out. - Catelyn VI, AGOT

Sorry, I kind of have to point out Sansa has natural maternal instincts, and the author keeps highlighting that through her interactions with Robert.

+.+.+

There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.

+.+.+

"So you're brave as well as beautiful," Myranda said to her.

"No."

Yes.

+.+.+

"I remember a man throwing me in the air when I was very little. He stands as tall as the sky, and he throws me up so high it feels as though I'm flying. We're both laughing, laughing so much that I can hardly catch a breath, and finally I laugh so hard I wet myself, but that only makes him laugh the louder. I was never afraid when he was throwing me. I knew that he would always be there to catch me." She pushed her hair back. "Then one day he wasn't. Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and a stone is a mountain's daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won't fall." She put her hand on a jagged spur of rock, and got to her feet. "Best finish. We have a long way yet to go, and I can smell a storm."

He'll come back, Sansa.

There was nothing below but yawning blackness, nothing above but moon and stars. "The mountain is your mother," Stonesnake had told him during an easier climb a few days past. "Cling to her, press your face up against her teats, and she won't drop you." - Jon VI, ACOK

+.+.+

"We have apartments prepared for all of you," she told Alayne, "but if you like you may share my bed tonight. It's large enough for four."

"I should be honored, my lady."

"Randa.

Jesus, she's more formal than the queen during a court session.

+.+.+

Count yourself fortunate that I'm so tired. All I want to do is curl up and go to sleep. Usually when ladies share my bed they have to pay a pillow tax and tell me all about the wicked things they've done."

"What if they haven't done any wicked things?"

"Why, then they must confess all the wicked things they want to do. Not you, of course. I can see how virtuous you are just by looking at those rosy cheeks and big blue eyes of yours."

Any talk of how innocent and virtuous Sansa is will always elicit a giggle from me.

+.+.+

They all rose when she entered, and Petyr smiled warmly. "Alayne. Come, give your father a kiss."

She hugged him dutifully and kissed him on the cheek. 

I will drill through your urethra.

+.+.+

"You are never an intrusion, sweetling. I was just now telling these good knights what a dutiful daughter I had."

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.

I smashed my head against the cement, and figured out this is actually Sandor Clegane.

+.+.+

"You left out that part, m'lord." "I would do the same if she were my daughter," said the last knight, a short, wiry man with a wry smile, pointed nose, and bristly orange hair. "Particularly around louts like us."

Alayne laughed. "Are you louts?" she said, teasing. "Why, I took the three of you for gallant knights."

"Knights they are," said Petyr. "Their gallantry has yet to be demonstrated, but we may hope. Allow me to present Ser Byron, Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich. Sers, the Lady Alayne, my natural and very clever daughter . . . with whom I must needs confer, if you will be so good as to excuse us."

Uh oh!

For those keeping track, the following people know Alayne is Sansa:

Petyr Baelish

Oswell Kettleblack

Lothor Brune

Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse

Myranda Royce (probably)

Yohn Royce (undetermined)

That's too many.

Personally, I don't think you introduce Ser Shadrich, and put him in the Vale, if you don't intend to use him in the story. So, yeah.

This is also a nice reminder that Littlefinger is capable of making big mistakes.

+.+.+

"I did not expect you back so soon," she said. "I am glad you've come."

"I would never have known it from the kiss you gave me." He pulled her closer, caught her face between his hands, and kissed her on the lips for a long time. "Now that's the sort of kiss that says welcome home. See that you do better next time."

I will peel your foreskin.

+.+.+

"You would not believe half of what is happening in King's Landing, sweetling. Cersei stumbles from one idiocy to the next, helped along by her council of the deaf, the dim, and the blind. I always anticipated that she would beggar the realm and destroy herself, but I never expected she would do it quite so fast. It is quite vexing. I had hoped to have four or five quiet years to plant some seeds and allow some fruits to ripen, but now . . . it is a good thing that I thrive on chaos. 

Is it still called breaking the fourth wall when it's a book?

+.+.+

The Merling King's returned to Gulltown, and old Oswell had some tales to tell."

[...]

What little peace and order the five kings left us will not long survive the three queens, I fear.

"Three queens?" She did not understand.

Nor did Petyr choose to explain. 

The peace will not survive the three queens. You shouldn't want this to be about Sansa.

It's Cersei, Margaery, and Daenerys. The Merling King returned from Braavos, he knows about Daenerys.

+.+.+

"I have brought my sweet girl back a gift."

Alayne was as pleased as she was surprised. "Is it a gown?" She had heard there were fine seamstresses in Gulltown, and she was so tired of dressing drably.

Gulltown. Gulltown. Gulltown.

+.+.+

Petyr Baelish took her by the hand and drew her down onto his lap. "I have made a marriage contract for you."

I will decorate my Christmas tree with your intestines.

+.+.+

"I am married," she whispered. "You know."

Petyr put a finger to her lips to silence her. 

I will make you nurse a badger.

+.+.+

"Lady Waynwood?" Alayne could hardly believe it. "Why would she marry one of her sons to . . . to a . . ."

". . . bastard? For a start, you are the Lord Protector's bastard, never forget. The Waynwoods are very old and very proud, but not as rich as one might think, as I discovered when I began buying up their debt. Not that Lady Anya would ever sell a son for gold. A ward, however . . . young Harry's only a cousin, and the dower that I offered her ladyship was even larger than the one that Lyonel Corbray just collected. 

I'm confident he's somehow screwing over Anya Waynwood and Lyonel Corbray on these deals.

You know who else doesn't pay debts? Littlefinger.

+.+.+

It had to be, for her to risk Bronze Yohn's wroth. This will put all his plans awry. 

It appears Littlefinger was aware of Bronze Yohn's plans. Can I be told?

+.+.+

"He was just knighted. And he has a bastard daughter by some common girl."

"And another on the way by a different wench. Harry can be a beguiling one, no doubt. Soft sandy hair, deep blue eyes, and dimples when he smiles. And very gallant, I am told."

I know, maybe Littlefinger has a cuckolding fetish, and can't wait to have his favourite play thing mounted by a younger, better looking guy? Most men are like that, right?

I mean sure, he was super territorial with Catelyn, and almost died fighting her betrothed, but he could change? Right?

+.+.+

He teased her with a smile. "Bastard-born or no, sweetling, when this match is announced you will be the envy of every highborn maiden in the Vale, and a few from the riverlands and the Reach as well."

I would love to know why any maiden from the riverlands or the Reach would give a shit about Harrold Hardyng, an upjumped squire who's never left the Vale.

You get any petitions for marriage when you were in the Reach, Baelish?

He needs a pretty young wife to wash away his grief. I imagine he could have his pick of half the noble maidens in the Vale. Who could be a better husband than our own bold Lord Protector? 

+.+.+

Petyr took her hand in his own and brushed his finger lightly down the inside of her palm.

I will harvest your organs.

+.+.+

"Won't they come before Harry? I don't understand."

"You will. Listen." Petyr took her hand in his own and brushed his finger lightly down the inside of her palm. 

"Lord Jasper Arryn, begin with him. Jon Arryn's father. He begot three children, two sons and a daughter. Jon was the eldest, so the Eyrie and the lordship passed to him. His sister Alys wed Ser Elys Waynwood, uncle to the present Lady Waynwood." He made a wry face. "Elys and Alys, isn't that precious? Lord Jasper's younger son, Ser Ronnel Arryn, wed a Belmore girl, but only rang her once or twice before dying of a bad belly. Their son Elbert was being born in one bed even as poor Ronnel was dying in another down the hall. Are you paying close attention, sweetling?"

"Yes. There was Jon and Alys and Ronnel, but Ronnel died."

"Good. Now, Jon Arryn married thrice, but his first two wives gave him no children, so for long years his nephew Elbert was his heir. Meantime, Elys was plowing Alys quite dutifully, and she was whelping once a year. She gave him nine children, eight girls and one precious little boy, another Jasper, after which she died exhausted. Boy Jasper, inconsiderate of the heroic efforts that had gone into begetting him, got himself kicked in the head by a horse when he was three years old. A pox took two of his sisters soon after, leaving six. The eldest married Ser Denys Arryn, a distant cousin to the Lords of the Eyrie. There are several branches of House Arryn scattered across the Vale, all as proud as they are penurious, save for the Gulltown Arryns, who had the rare good sense to marry merchants. They're rich, but less than couth, so no one talks about them. Ser Denys hailed from one of the poor, proud branches . . . but he was also a renowned jouster, handsome and gallant and brimming with courtesy. And he had that magic Arryn name, which made him ideal for the eldest Waynwood girl. Their children would be Arryns, and the next heirs to the Vale should any ill befall Elbert. Well, as it happened, Mad King Aerys befell Elbert. You know that story?"

She did. "The Mad King murdered him."

"He did indeed. And soon after, Ser Denys left his pregnant Waynwood wife to ride to war. He died during the Battle of the Bells, of an excess of gallantry and an axe. When they told his lady of his death she perished of grief, and her newborn son soon followed. No matter. Jon Arryn had gotten himself a young wife during the war, one he had reason to believe fertile. He was very hopeful, I'm sure, but you and I know that all he ever got from Lysa were stillbirths, miscarriages, and poor Sweetrobin.

"Which brings us back to the five remaining daughters of Elys and Alys. The eldest had been left terribly scarred by the same pox that killed her sisters, so she became a septa. Another was seduced by a sellsword. Ser Elys cast her out, and she joined the silent sisters after her bastard died in infancy. The third wed the Lord of the Paps, but proved barren. The fourth was on her way to the riverlands to marry some Bracken when Burned Men carried her off. That left the youngest, who wed a landed knight sworn to the Waynwoods, gave him a son that she named Harrold, and perished."

+.+.+

He turned her hand over and lightly kissed her wrist.

I will invert your ribcage.

+.+.+

"So tell me, sweetling—why is Harry the Heir?"

Her eyes widened. "He is not Lady Waynwood's heir. He's Robert's heir. If Robert were to die . . ."

SHE'S A CHILD PRODIGY.

+.+.+

Petyr arched an eyebrow. "When Robert dies. Our poor brave Sweetrobin is such a sickly boy, it is only a matter of time. When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . .

I'm sure your cheque book can fix that.

Do you think Littlefinger wants to compete with a young man who is loved by the high lords and common folk? I don't.

+.+.+

Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa . . . Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell. That's worth another kiss now, don't you think?"

This is going to sound crazy, but you should question everything Littlefinger says.

Anyway, this feels familiar, doesn't it?

"Does this mean you will not wed the girl? I warn you, she is part of the price you must pay, if you want your father's name and your father's castle. This match is necessary, to help assure the loyalty of our new subjects. Are you refusing me, Jon Snow?" - Jon XI, ASOS

+.+.+

That's worth another kiss now, don't you think?

I will power wash your colon.

Final thoughts:

There's only one more Sansa chapter.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #affc #alayne ii #sansa iii

[findroleplay]

hi there! i'm eliza (she/her) & at the moment i'm craving either some harry potter, asoiaf, or some hunger games rp. it's like its 2013 again! i'm 25+ (sigh!) so unwilling to write with anyone under 21 under any circumstances, and I write on discord, generally on private servers.

i like to double up in terms of canons - if i write your preferred canon, it would be great if you could write mine - and if we do mxf ships I prefer to double up on those too. I am comfortable writing all genders and dynamics, I just find that having two ships means we both have equal investment! in terms of ocs I have noted a couple of oc scenarios I would like to explore, but in general I prefer to stick faiiiirly close to canons.

i am definitely a 2-3 paragraphs type of writer and i love to ramble on about our characters, novel/novella style!

below i have listed a ships i'm craving, with my preferred role in bold*, as well as some canons I just love writing in any scenario! *if neither is bolded you can take your pick, it means I love writing both of them <3 italicised means I would literally kill for you to write this with me. i'm open to canon x oc or canon x canon, as well as mxf (generally my default but not always!), mxm, or mxf.

I'm very easy going (just silly really) and would put my activity at about a 6/10 - I won't be on discord every day but will absolutely check in with you if I think I'm going to be away from my phone or extremely busy. while I don't have any triggers per say, I prefer to plot and write a little together before plunging into full blown smut, and I like nsfw scenes to have a plot purpose (most of the time lol). needless to say i am extremely anti-jkr. these characters are ours now <3 harry potter: fred weasley x alicia spinnet** (i would probably cut limbs off for this) sirius black x marlene mckinnon sirius black x remus lupin sirius black x ofc oliver wood x katie bell or ofc george weasley x luna lovegood george weasley x angelina johnson narcissa malfoy x lucius malfoy draco malfoy x astoria greengrass alastor moody x anyone fabian prewett x anyone

lily evans x james potter draco malfoy x harry potter ginny weasley x harry potter ginny weasley x pansy parkinson bill weasley x fleur delacour dudley dursley x anyone magical for his redemption arc any minor character ships where we can develop backstories! (just off the top of my head for characters that I love to develop: michael corner, padma patil, justin finch-fletchley, theodore nott, terry boot, susan bones, blaise zabini)

the hunger games: finnick odair x annie cresta haymitch abernathy x effie trinket coriolanus snow x whatever poor girl he decides is going to be his wife gale hawthorne x madge undersee

gale hawthorne x johanna mason ('i could fix him' 'well i could make him worse') finnick odair x ofc (happy to play either role) original tributes in the arena, tribute x mentor if we come up with something good! haymitch x his girl from home (rip babe) asoiaf (book canon): robb stark x jeyne westerling or ofc robb stark x oc if we double! luv writing him sansa stark x jon snow (post parent reveal) jon snow x satin loras tyrell x renly baratheon ellaria sand x oberyn martell catelyn stark x jaime lannister iykyk catelyn stark x roose bolton nooo don't give me the skin of my enemies you're so sexy aha x davos seaworth x stannis baratheon arianne martell x anyone at all! sansa stark x willas tyrell robb stark x margaery tyrell edmure tully x margaery tyrell tbh you can probably persuade me on most canon x canon crack marriages. i got fully invested in lyanna x jaime lannister once so now nothing will surprise me <3 if you're interested in any of these pls like this post so I can reach out and provide my discord!

-

#rp #roleplay #harry potter rp #asoiaf rp #hunger games rp

[thaliajoy-blog]

My Asoiaf Tarot Plan !

Major Arcana

0 - The Fool : Jon Snow

I - The Magician : Bran/Bloodraven

II - The High Priestess : Melisandre

III + IV - Empress & Emperor : Daenerys ×2

V : The Hierophant : Ned Stark

VI : The Lovers : Jon & Dany (?)

VII - the Chariot : Arianne Martell

VIII - Strength : Brienne of Tarth

IX - The Hermit : Stannis Baratheon

X - Wheel of Fortune : Tyrion Lannister

XI - Justice : Jaime Lannister

XII - Hanged man : Theon Greyjoy

XIII - Death : The Others

XIV - Temperance : Ellaria Sand

XV - The Devil : Euron Greyjoy

XVI - The Tower : Rhaegar Targaryen/Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark

XVII - The Star : Ashara Dayne / Jon Connington

XVIII - The Moon : Arya Stark

XIX - The Sun : Sansa Stark

XX - Judgement : Oberyn Martell

XXI - World : Carved table of Dragonstone + Littlefinger & Varys OR woman representing Westeros

Minor Arcana

1) Suit of Cups (House Stark) - also Suit of Fangs

Ace of Cups : Catelyn Tully Stark

Queen of Cups : Jeyne Westerling

King of Cups : Robb Stark

Page of Cups : Rickon Stark

Knight of Cups : Wyman Manderly & granddaughters

2) Suit of Pentacles (House Baratheon) - or Suit of Antlers

Ace of Pentacles : Gendry Waters

Queen of Pentacles : Selyse Florent

King of Pentacles : Robert Baratheon

Page of Pentacles : Shireen Baratheon

Knight of Pentacles : Davos Seaworth

3) Suit of Wands (House Tyrell) - also Suit of Thorns

Ace of Wands : Olenna Redwyne Tyrell

Queen of Wands : Margaery Tyrell

King of Wands : Renly Baratheon

Page of Wands : Megga, Alla & Elinor Tyrell

Knight of Wands : Loras Tyrell

4) Suit of Swords (House Lannister) - also Suit of Claws

Ace of Swords : Tywin Lannister

Queen of Swords : Cersei Lannister

King of Swords : Joffrey Baratheon

Page of Swords : Tommen & Myrcella Baratheon

Knight of Swords : Gregor & Sandor Clegane

Additional suits !

#asoiaf tarot #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf art project

[raspberryfingers]

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

WARNINGS: None

Word Count: 8.6k

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

—————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is unnatural.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, yes I do…”

I paused, swallowing and looking around before speaking. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I do not wish to discuss this.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N), wait.”

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, truly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well not Lord Tywin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TAGLIST:

@cheyxfu @lemonscoffee @groovy-lady 

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

@prettykinkysoul 

@fullmoonshadowwrites @kishie8 

@the-desilittle-bird @dianilaws @girlonfireice 

@muscari-fae @lostgirllulu 

@abigfanofgameofthrones @smalltownbigheart 

@frombloodandflesh @supernaturalismyreligion666

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

#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #charles dance #tywin lannister fanfic #cersei lannister #a lion in the garden

[supervengerslock]

The Great War- Chapter 1

Robb Stark x Baratheon!OFC, Jon Snow x Handmaid!OFC

Summary: The royal party goes to Winterfell to arrange a marriage between the princess and the future Warden of the North.

Meag sat by her favorite tree, book in hand, as she and her handmaid, Bev, watched the King’s guard train on the grounds of the Red Keep. Her brother, Joffrey, was with them, though he could barely hold a sword to save his life. The King’s guard didn’t dare spar with the prince, for fear of invoking his wrath.

“I know that look,” Bev says, leaning against the tree. “You’re thinking too hard.”

“Do you ever just want to escape these grounds, even for just a day? I’ve barely been out of the Red Keep all my life, Bev.”

Joffrey starts towards the keep and sends a glare towards his sister’s maid, who he hated with a fiery passion. He stops a few feet from his sister.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m to wed Lady Sansa Stark. Sister, you’ll be lucky if you wed Loras Tyrell. Except, I don’t think you’re his type.” He laughs at his own joke.

“Be quiet, Joffrey. You’re interrupting my reading.” She looks back down at her book and he grows angry.

“You can’t talk to your future king like that!”

“And you shouldn’t talk to your elder sister in such a way,” she retorts. “It’s not very regal, brother.”

He stomps off in a huff and Meag sets down her book.

“Say the word, my lady, and I’ll make sure that cunt doesn’t treat you in such a way again.”

“You’d risk treason for me, Bev? He’s to be your king.”

“I’m not loyal to the crown, especially not that fucking prince. I’m loyal to you, my lady.”

Meag smiled at that and the two of them sat by the tree for a moment of peace and quiet. This, however, was short-lived because Meag’s uncle, Jaime, walked up to them.

“Hello, my dearest niece,” he says, bowing in greeting.

“Uncle, it’s good to see you,” Meag replies. “By the looks of it, it seems these guards aren’t learning anything at all, and neither is my brother, it would seem.”

“Yes, I saw him stalking back into the palace,” Jaime says. “I was sent by your father to fetch you. He wants to see you in his study immediately.”

Meag rolls her eyes and stands, the grass staining the bottom of her skirt. She passes her book to Bev and follows Jaime into the Red Keep. He doesn’t say a thing as they walk along, which surprises her, as her uncle is usually very chatty. They finally reach her father’s study and she turns to Jaime, who gives her a solemn look before nodding to her to go in.

Meag knocks on the door before entering the study, where her father was pouring a cup of wine and his hand, Jon Arryn, stood to the side with a kind smile. She nods to Lord Arryn before taking the open seat across from her father.

He sets his cup down before eyeing the grass stains all over her dress.

“Have you been rolling in the yard again?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Just reading in the grass, father.”

“You’ve always got your head in the clouds. Seven Hells! You’re a Baratheon, and my daughter. My firstborn.”

“Mother would go berserk if I was fighting with the boys, father. Besides, southern ladies do not fight. They frolic and sew and run their households.”

“Have you ever seen your mother sew?” her father asks. He laughs again before taking another sip of his wine.

“Your grace, I believe there are certain matters we need to discuss,” Lord Arryn says.

“Of course, of course,” Her father replies. “Lord Arryn and I have discussed it, and we think it’s about time you be wed.”

“Wed? To whom?”

“We’ve gotten quite a few offers from all the great houses,” Jon Arryn says. “But your father has rejected most of them.”

“My friend Ned Stark, you remember him, right?”

Lord Stark had only visited King’s Landing a handful of times, and never with his family, except possibly his wife, Lady Catelyn. He was very stoic, though gentle and kind. Her father and Lord Arryn always talked fondly of him.

“Yes, father.”

“His eldest boy, Robb, is to be the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. He’ll make a fine husband for her, won’t he, Jon?”

“Absolutely. With Ned as a father, the boy must be very honorable indeed.”

“When will this wedding occur?” Meag asks.

“We’re going to visit Winterfell in a few weeks to talk about the details with Ned and Cat.”

“Does mother know?”

“She does. She’s not too happy about it, but she understands.”

Despite what her father said, her mother did not understand.

-

Meag stood by her mother’s side, her hand maid stood a few steps behind the family. Tommen and Myrcella stood close to their elder sister, the young prince holding onto her arm shyly as they approached the Starks.

“Your grace.”

“Ned,” Robert replies with a chuckle. “You got fat.” They both laugh and Meag’s gaze wanders to the two girls. The elder sister looked excited to be there. She wore a pale blue dress and had her red hair done up in braids. The youngest seemed uncomfortable in her gray dress. She couldn’t be more than ten and one. Their brother, Robb Stark, walked up and tousled his youngest sister’s hair playfully. He had a stocky build, his brown hair fell in little wisps that met his ears. His eyes were the same piercing blue as his sister’s, as they both favorited the Tully side of their family. Arya, however, seemed to favor her father. The other boy joined them. His long hair was dark and curly. He was shorter than Robb and Lord Eddard, and he had a sword on his hip. He resembled Lord Eddard more than Robb did. He must be Jon Snow, the bastard.

Meag had nothing against bastards. Seven hells, her father had at least four bastards for every legitimate child he had.

Two little brown haired boys stood close to Jon Snow. They were the youngest Stark children, Brandon and Rickon.

Meag’s father reaches over and puts an arm around her, bringing her closer.

“This here is my pride and joy, Ned. My eldest.”

“Princess.” Lord Stark bows his head and Meag nods in greeting.

“Lord Stark. My father always speaks so highly of you.”

“And those are my others,” the king says, gesturing towards Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella. “My heir, Joffrey, my daughter Myrcella, and my youngest, Tommen. Now, introduce me to your brood, Ned.”

The red headed girl stood closest to her father and grabbed his arm.

“This is my oldest daughter, Sansa. Next to her is my oldest,Robb. Then there’s Arya, Bran and Rickon.”

The king stared down at the little brown haired girl for a second. It wasn’t long, but it was enough for Meag to notice. She turned and locked eyes with her mother, who clenched her fist in frustration.

“Yes, well come on, we best get to the crypt to pay our respects,” the king says, releasing Meag and walking away with Ned. The Stark and Baratheon children all looked at each other for a moment before Cersei headed inside with her guards, Myrcella, and Tommen.

Joffrey walked across to Sansa with a smirk on his face. The eldest Stark brothers sent twin glares in his direction as he began to gloat to Sansa.

Surprisingly enough, Joffrey offers his arm to Sansa and she takes it hesitantly as they walk off towards the godswood.

“My lady.”

Meag practically jumped back three feet when she realized Bev had materialized next to her.

“Bev, you startled me!”

“We should probably get you ready for the feast, my lady.”

“Oh, yes.” Meag turns back to the young wolves who were still standing there.

“I’ll see you at the feast, Robb. It was lovely to meet you.”

-

“Bev, must we attend the feast?” Meag asks.

“The Stark heir seems quite taken with you,” Bev says with a smirk.

“Robb? What do you mean?”

“Did you not see the way he looked at you when you two were introduced?”

“I don’t know a thing about him, Bev. I don’t want to be married off like some broodmare. I want to explore the world!”

Bev’s lip curls into a cheshire grin. “My lady, get your cloak and meet me at the training grounds. We are going out.”

“Going where, Bev?”

“To see the world!”

-

When Meag walked up to the training grounds, what she didn’t expect to see was her handmaid standing with a horse from the stables.

The horse she’d chosen was Saffron, the horse her father had given her for her fourteenth name day. Saffron had a reddish brown coat and mane. She was saddled and ready to leave the castle. Bev was feeding her a carrot as Meag walked up.

“My lady. I couldn’t take more than one horse without it seeming suspicious. I will walk, you should ride.”

“Nonsense, we can both fit on the saddle,” the princess replies. Meag took her friend’s hand as she mounted the horse, Bev following suit.

Bev sat in front, handling the reins. Saffron took off and Meag held onto her friend.

“Where are we going, Bev?”

“For a ride outside of Winterfell, my lady! Hang on!”

-

Robb stood on the edge of the crowd as everyone danced and ate. This feast was to commemorate his father taking the position as hand of the king, and his and Sansa’s engagements. Sansa was dancing with the weasley little prince and Arya was talking Ser Barristen’s ear off about the knights of old. Jon was outside with the direwolves talking to Lord Tyrion. Theon walked up to him.

“Shouldn’t you be off winning the heart of the fair princess?” Theon asks teasingly.

Robb sends him a glare. “She seems like a nice lass, but I don’t want to get married to someone I don’t know, Theon.”

“You’re the heir to Winterfell and the future Warden of the North,” Theon reminds him. “You really didn’t expect to be married off by your parents?”

“I just thought I might have more of a choice in who my bride might be. I don’t want a ditzy little princess as my lady of Winterfell.”

Theon shrugs. “Talk to her,” he suggests. “You might find you like her.”

Robb chuckles. “Who are you and what have you done with my perverse best friend?”

“And if she still doesn’t like you,” Theon says cheekily, putting an arm around his friend casually, “Maybe you could send her my way.”

Robb shoved his arm off. “Too far, Theon.” He stalks off out of the great hall in frustration, walking right past Jon and Lord Tyrion, the former shouting after him. Grey Wind was on his heels as he started towards the gods wood, where he might have a moment alone to think.

Just as he reached the weirwood tree, he heard voices further into the wood. Grey Wind’s ears perked up and Robb looked down at the wolf.

“What’s wrong?”

The direwolf runs into the woods and Robb curses under his breath before following Grey Wind into the forest.

When the direwolf finally stopped, they were in a clearing, and before them stood the princess, her hand maid, and horse. The princess was frolicking in the snow while the handmaid fed a carrot to the horse.

Robb looked down at Grey Wind, who was sniffing the air. The wolf started slowly towards the princess.

“Grey Wind!” Robb rushed through the trees after his wolf, which had walked up to the princess. She stopped and looked down at the direwolf before kneeling down to pet him. Grey Wind sat at her feet as she scratched behind his ears and Robb breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re not scared of him?” he asks, stopping in front of her and Grey Wind.

“I love animals,” Meag replies. “They’re much better than most humans. Besides, he’s just a pup.”

“We found a litter of them a few days ago in the woods,” he says. “The mother had been killed by a stag. Father let us take the pups to the castle.”

“Your father seems like a great man,” Meag says. “Your family all seem very kind. That brings me much comfort.”

“Why aren’t you at the feast?” Robb asks. “Your parents sent the Hound to look for you.”

“I hate such gatherings,” Meag answers. “I am not the perfect princess my mother wishes I would be. I would rather spend all day in the library or the gardens than learning how to sew or dance or any of the more ladylike professions.”

“We have a massive library here,” Robb replies. “So many stories that you could get lost among the shelves.”

“I wanted to be a maester when I was younger, to study at the citadel,” Meag says. “But of course all maesters are men, and my mother wouldn’t let me study the art of the sciences.”

“I can ask Maester Luwin to teach you,” Robb suggests. “I’m sure he would love to have an enthusiastic student.”

“Oh thank you, Robb, truly.”

-

Meag held onto Robb’s arm as they took a walk through the grounds of Winterfell, Meag’s handmaid trailing them a few feet behind. Meag leans close to her betrothed’s ear.

“Your half-brother can’t seem to take his eyes off my handmaid.”

Robb turns to look at Jon, who was staring at the brunette. She stared right back at him, muttering something. Meag turns to her friend.

“He seems quite taken with you.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Robb chimes in. “He leaves tomorrow for the Watch.”

“That’s a pity,” Meag replies. “They could have been a fine match.”

-

Bev approached Jon Snow while his back was turned and he was slicing at the practice dummy with his sword.

“I think you got him,” she says. He turns and smiled sheepishly at her.

“You’re the princess’s maid.”

“I prefer friend. But yes.”

“Aye. How are you liking Winterfell, friend of the princess?” he asks, sheathing his sword again in its scabbard.

“The chill is refreshing, if I’m being honest. It is fucking hot down south.”

He chuckles. “Does your princess know you talk like that?”

“You should hear that mouth of hers,” Bev says, shaking her head. “She doesn’t show it, but when she’s angry, you should see it.”

“And you’re the more outspoken one, I take it?” They both laugh, and then, an awkward silence settles over them. Bev clears her throat.

“I’m a bastard too, you know. My mother was a kitchen maid, and she said my father was a knight in the Red Keep. I never knew him. A sickness took her last year, so I never got to find out who he was.”

���I never knew my mother either,” Jon replies. “Father promised he’d tell me about her when he comes back to visit. All I know is that she died giving birth to me.”

“We’re two of a kind, aren’t we, Jon Snow?”

“Achem.” Jon looks up behind her head, his eyes widening in surprise. Bev turns to face the knight that had approached. It was Ser Clegane, the Hound.

“Run along to your princess, little girl.” Bev nods, hurrying to find Meag and Robb, not catching the glare that the knight sends Jon Snow.

-

“And this is the old tower,” Robb says, gesturing to his left. “It’s run down, so we don’t use it anymore.”

“It appears your brother does,” Meag says with a chuckle, pointing towards Bran, who was climbing the tower.

“Bran!” Robb tells up to his brother. “Didn’t mother tell you not to climb?”

“I’m fine!” the boy calls back. “Go show the princess the library!”

“Oh, the library!” Meag exclaims.

“Then, let’s go, shall we?” Robb offers his arm to the princess, and just as they turn away from the tower, they hear a scream, and then a thud. Robb is the first to act.

“Bran!” he runs to his brother, who had just hit the ground hard. The princess starts towards them, until Bev rushes over.

“My lady! What happened?”

“Lord Brandon fell from the tower,” Meag says hurriedly. She looks up at the tower, and she can just make out a figure in the window, facing inside the tower. She swore it looked just like her uncle…

taglist @thisthatsworld

#game of thrones #game of thrones fics #robb stark x oc #jon snow x oc #robb stark x original character #jon snow x original character #robb stark x meag baratheon #robb stark x ofc #robb stark x original female character #jon snow x ofc #jon snow x bev waters #jon snow x original female character #game of thrones ocs #game of thrones x oc #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fic #got series #asoiaf ocs #asoiaf #asoiaf fic #asoiaf original characters #robb stark #jon snow

[johnmihombre]

"Poor creatures" "Omegas so young tied to an alpha like that" people whispered when they saw them walking "he put them on a leash" whispered a beta pointing shamelessly at the young men's necks "they don't know anything" you comfort sansa when you see her unhappy "I know..." the redhead said as she caressed the modest necklace that her alpha had given her.

what if : It is rare for an alpha to have 2 omegas, especially one of such a low economic category as Sandor Clegane was, a second son of a minor house, but that did not prevent him from marking the most beautiful omegas in Westeros.

people were scandalized of course but when they wanted to intervene it was already d too late as both omegas were found warming the hound's bed with beautiful markings on their fine necks

#sandor x sansa #game of thrones #sansan #sansa stark #sandor clegane #loras tyrell #sandor x loras

[roleplayfinder]

21+. She/Her. Looking for 21+ writing partners for four of my current biggest fandoms right now.

I write on Discord or through Tumblr messages but do like to stick to Tumblr for plotting. I write in third person, past tense and around 2-4 paragraphs. Replies won't happen every day because I work full-time. I'm usually, however, able to get them out in 2-3 days. I like canon x canon pairings the most but am not opposed to canon x OC. I'm open to MxM, FxF, or MxF pairings for canon x canon. For canon x OC, I only do MxM or FxF. I like canon and canon divergent plots. No AUs that are way out there. I'm fine with doing romantic or platonic pairings. Although, I do lean towards the former. I'm also okay with writing NSFW/smut things but I do like a healthy dose of plot to be involved.

I'll be writing my main muses for each fandom (I may be willing to write some other characters) and list some of my favorite ships (I'm definitely open to discussing others).

Note: All characters will be 18+!

Anything with ! next to it I'm especially looking to do right now.

Harry Potter:

My Muses:

Arthur Weasley

Augustus Rookwood

Barty Crouch Jr.

Ceric Diggory

Cormac McLaggen

Gilderoy Lockhart

Hermione Granger

Oliver Wood

Percy Weasley

Remus Lupin

Severus Snape

Tom Riddle

My Favorite Ships:

Arthur x Molly

Arthur x Male OC Muggle

Rookwood x Male OC Death Eater

Barty x Lucius !

Barty x Draco !

Barty x Male OC Death Eater !

Cedric x Harry !

Cormac x Ron !

Cormac x Male OC

Cormac x Hermione

Lockhart x Quirrell !

Lockhart x Snape

Lockhart x Male OC

Hermione x Ginny

Hermione x Luna

Hermione x Female OC

Hermione x Harry

Hermione x Fred

Hermione x Ron

Oliver x Percy !

Oliver x Harry

Oliver x Fred

Oliver x George

Percy x Male OC

Lupin x Snape

Lupin x Male OC

Snape x Harry !

Snape x Lucius !

Snape x Male OC

Tom x Harry

Tom x Male OC !

Fantastic Beasts:

My Muses:

Albus Dumbledore

Jacob Kowalski

Leta Lestrange

Newt Scamander

Theseus Scamander

My Favorite Ships:

Dumbledore x Grindelwald

Dumbledore x Newt

Dumbledore x Theseus !

Dumbledore x Jacob

Jacob x Newt

Jacob x Queenie

Leta x Theseus

Leta x Newt

Newt x Theseus !

Newt x Male OC

Theseus x Grindelwald !

Theseus x Male OC !

Game of Thrones:

My Muses:

Alliser Thorne

Beric Dondarrion

Daenerys Targaryen

Jaime Lannister

Margaery Tyrell

Petyr Baelish

Renly Baratheon

Roose Bolton

Sansa Stark

Stannis Baratheon

Thoros

Tywin Lannister

Yoren

My Favorite Ships:

Alliser x Jon

Alliser x OC Night's Watch Member !

Beric x Thoros

Dany x Margaery !

Dany x Sansa

Dany x Yara

Dany x Jon

Dany x Jaime !

Dany x Jorah

Jaime x Bronn

Jaime x Sansa

Margaery x Sansa

Margaery x Female OC

Margaery x Joffrey

Margaery x Stannis

Petyr x Renly !

Petyr x Sansa !

Renly x Loras

Renly x Male OC

Roose x Stannis !

Roose x Tywin

Roose x Male OC !

Roose x Sansa !

Sansa x Jon

Sansa x Tyrion

Stannis x Davos !

Stannis x Male OC

Tywin x Aerys

Tywin x Male OC

Yoren x OC Night's Watch Member

NBC Hannibal:

My Muses:

Brian Zeller

Frederick Chilton

Margot Verger

Will Graham

My Favorite Ships:

Zeller x Price !

Zeller x Will !

Zeller x Male OC

Chilton x Will !

Chilton x Hannibal

Chilton x Male OC

Margot x Alana

Margot x Female OC

Will x Hannibal !

Will x Male OC

If you'd like to work something out, please message me (preferred) or like this post and I'll message you.

.

#twenty-one and over #harry potter #harry potter roleplay #harry potter rp #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts roleplay #fantastic beasts rp #got #got roleplay #got rp #hannibal #hannibal roleplay #hannibal rp #oc #ocxcanon #canonxcanon #mxm #mxf #fxf