#lannisters

[embroideryobsession]

Michele Callagher Embroidery for Game of Thrones

Costume Designer: Michele Clapton MCE/HBO Inc

#ilovethis #game of thrones #costume design #handmade embroidery #michele callagher #michele clapton #michele callagher embroidery #gorgeous #cersei #sansa #daenerys #myrcella #lannisters #ice and fire #birds embroidery

[a-thousand-eyes-and-one]

the way grrm does house-based appearances for the more prestigious houses is so funny to me bc its exactly the way a thirteen year old girl would do it. outside of the starks and maybe the florents or manderlys he never describes actual facial features or body types that are passed down its ALWAYS eye color + hair color double whammy to the point where anyone from these families can be recognized as a member by their eye and hair color. its soooo ridiculous can u imagine being some random merchant with green eyes and blond hair and EVERY person you meet is like wow you MUST be a lannister 😉😏 and u cant even be annoyed about it in public bc rich ppl r crazy and will track u down for ‘insulting their house’…

#valyrianscrolls #valyrian scrolls #agatha speaks #lannisters

[themotherofblood]

CHAPTER 1| RIVER OF GOLD |

The Lady | T.L x READER |

series masterlist | main masterlist

~ and if I was a child, did matter? If you got to wash your hands. ~

“He scares me, just a little. Not a violent way I suppose but as if he knows everything about me, though he might if he paid for spies. I am to be his wife, never thought I’d lay with a Lannister and yet here I am. Father has forbade me from writing to Doran, he would be mad at me. Lannisters and us have had a bitter history, my sweet aunt lost at the cost of war but perhaps this would be my first taste of power. I would be his wife, I would hold the sword.”

Grey, the skies were grey in the Westerlands. Black adorned every noble lord and lady's bodies as they stood by the falls. Five children stood as they mourned the death of their mother, along with many other houses who had only come to pay respects; out of obligation. Only five young bodies knew the truth of what had happened.

"Our princess took a terrible fall." the Maesters and handmaidens said, a truth laced with an ugly lie.

Our mother killed herself

The silk that wrapped the former princess's body held the further truth, if one peaked in they would see her bashed left cheek from the impact, a little lower they would see her crushed collar bone and even lower they would see blackened bruises from the fall. They would also see scars, yellowing bruises and fingerprints all over her skin, the testament to the brutality she had to suffer at the hand of her lord husband.

She was gone, and a candle that all five children held in the storm; blew out with her. The oldest boy Jeagir stood with his arm around his sister, you. Her hands rested on the shoulders of her two younger sisters Ellia and Nyela and their Maester Crasden, that stood next to them with an asleep toddler in his arms; the youngest Loren.

While the younger girls wept silently, their older siblings silently boiled in rage. All four children were handed torches as they walked to the four corners of the pyre their mother laid on, a Dornish priest went on with words that were muffled in the noble children's ears. While some remembered the screams from that night, some could only hear the crackling fire in their hands. In unison they lit the four corners of their mother's final rest. She would be safer now, nobody would hurt her now.

Your mother had written to you six moons ago, "Fly back to me, child." She had written. Her Martell uncles had managed to get her on a ship within the next day of the letter's arrival. The ship flung the banner of House Martell and delights filled the cargo of the ship for their dear sister.

"Give her my love." Doran Martell had said as he kissed the top his niece's head, a girl he had raised as his own for the past twelve years.

The morning you arrived to Lannisport, your receiver and long friend Fredrick also brought the doomed message.

"Princess Elina took a terrible fall."

One look at your mother's dead body and the guilt in your mother's handmaiden's eyes, the horrified sullen eyes of your sisters and the rage in your brothers eyes. You knew.

Your mother killed herself.

Lannisport was controlled by the most powerful family in the Westerlands, the Lannisters. More specifically Tywin Lannister. That man knew everything that went on in his lands and surely a Dornish ship with Martell sails entering his harbour was to be brought to his attention. He had ridden out that day, as he did every other day to visit Lannistown and the port. Mostly to set his own eyes upon the visitors from Dorne, he had taken extra guards as a welcome party.

He watched from high ground as the ship docked itself, five boats emerged from the ship. One with a golden pavilion shade, harbouring most likely a person of noble decent. He wondered if the Martells finally had come for his head, but out emerged a young lady at best in a pink Dornish dress, you.

His brother Kevan had rode down to the ports to enquire about the arriving party before riding back to his brother. Tywin watched as a man stood with the banner of his sworn house Maerilys, he watched as the man greeted you dressed in pink, then he watched you speak and for a moment all the colour drained from your face. It seemed as though everyone around you had frozen too, then he watched as your hand came up to your forehead, your lips widen as all the men and women that came with you hung their head low. A message came for him too, a rider rode out from Casterly Rock with the message.

"Princess Elina Martell of House Maerilys has passed."

Kevan too returned from the ports.

"That's Lord Maerilys's eldest daughter."

Tywin had arrived to Deep Den after the funeral, he had known Princess Elina personally having been a close companion to his late lady wife Joanna, the woman wasn't much older than him but he knew wits when he saw it, though he never liked the man she married. Lord Loren Maerilys, clearly named after his ancestor but Tywin knew that man held no kingly qualities. The house provided a good chuck of the Lannister fleet and armies, siege weapons and other labour personnel to Casterly Rock.

Lord Maerilys was a cruel man, the Mad King had his own reasons but Maerilys was another kind of evil, he flaunted his affairs in his lady wife's face, he beat her and humiliated her. Princess Elina on the other hand suffered through it all, many never understood why, she was Dornish. If she had written about the true brutality of her husband to her brothers. They would have landed an army right at her front gates to take her home. She never did, she suffered it all.

When you were born to the household, Lord Maerilys was not pleased, had it not been for his advisors and Maesters, he would have thrown your babbling form into the sea to wash off your existence, to another father you may have been a delight, a gorgeous little girl. But to your father, you were weakness, you couldn't carry their house's name.

Maester Crasden protected you as alittle girl as best he could, keeping you for longer lessons or away from your father's sight most times. However she you fell in the trap of your father's violence, instead of staying in your bedchambers one night as your mother's muffled wails rang through the halls, you hid a dagger stolen from the armoury in your skirts and walked into your parents chambers. Your little hands were ineffective, the blade you wielded ended up giving you a bigger cut than her father and a swollen bruise to her cheek from a backhanded slap.

"You insolent cunt! I could have your head for this." He screamed like a mad man as the little girl's glare never left him. That night her mother wrote to her brothers for help for the first time. She urged them to take her daughter, to raise her as their own with her nieces and nephews.

"Protect my girl, do not let her flame die." She had written.

Tywin had strayed from his riding party for a while, he rarely got to breathe in the country and the serenity of its views. He wanted to tarry a bit, as his riding party prepped for his arrival. The Old Lion had taken a guard along with him, surely he was learned enough to know that he was safe no where. There was a faint rush of water from the great falls in the mountains by Deep Den, the birds sang their songs as the air in the forest remained thick and humid, and Tywin walked through it all like he owned the forests. He had taken a long deep breath, closing his eyes as his head lifted upwards, allowing himself to unravel for just a moment. Though his moment of peace was interrupted by the whoosh of an arrow that nearly missed him and lodged itself onto the tree trunk behind him.

His guard drew their swords, at alert as Tywin sat strong on his horse. All of them looking around to find the source of the attack, a rustle in the bushes and most of them were prepared to fight. Until from the bushes and vines emerged your figure dressed in commoner rags, out of breath and sharp as you looked around before your eyes widened at the men with their swords out. You hands instinctively held tighter on your bow as your chest heaved, looking at all three men skeptically; until the armour they wore gave their true identity away. Lannisters.

You dropped the bow, raising your hands in defence. Gulping at the glare, the lord had fixated on you. If you weren't mistaken, you stood in the presence of Tywin Lannister. Comely and stern looking man.

"Forgive me, my lord. I thought you were a deer," you looked at him apprehensively, as you prayed to the gods, that this man knew nothing of your identity.

"Clearly not," He nodded at his men to sheath their steel.

Tywin didn't trust the girl, and the only way he knew that he would make out of these woods without killing you, was to take you with him. You were clean, too clean for a commoner. Your posture and nimble fingers, too relaxed to be an assassin. You looked familiar and yet he couldn't quite put a name to the face.

"Who are you girl?" Tywin commanded, his eyes capturing every detail of the sweet maiden before him. The velvet of your dress pointed that you were no mere peasant girl, though your unruly hair and mud over your hands would unlikely make you of noble birth.

"I am a kitchen wench, from the Den my lord," you tried to hold his gaze to not seem as if you were lying through your teeth. The lord gave you a grunt of answer before turning his horse around.

"Come along then. No girl like you should be out here alone." He ordered but you stood your ground

"Forgive me my lord, strange men offering escort in the middle of the woods, not exactly reliable," you made your case "I can find my own way home." With that you ran, abandoning your weapon. You ran through the very well known forests as the Lannister guards wandered deeper into the forest with no avail.

You huffed in exhaustion as you returned home, sweaty and covered in dirt. What was to be a trip to clear your head turned out to be a rat chase. The maids all looked scared for their Lady, for surely if Lord Maerilys saw his daughter in this condition, not only would he have your head but also the gaurds that were supposed to be escorting you.

"You must change, before your father sees you my lady." A man called out, Fredrick Serrert. When you had left the shore he was merely a boy but when he came to receive you, he stood a man grown at nearly six foot three.

Down in the Deep Den's hall, Lord Maerilys. A stubbed, and disgruntled old man greeted their liege lord. Both lord exchanged words of formality before Tywin walked himself to the rear gardens, where a burnt out pyre of ashes remained, still gusts of simmering smoke emitted from it. There laid Princess Elina, he still remembered her face, how young him and his betrothed were when his father had brought him along to their wedding. An elaborate affair, the Dornish princess was set to marry the older Maerilys brother, yet tragedy struck Daven Maerilys and her "condition" (the birth of your brother) left her in choice but to wed the younger brother Loren Maerilys instead.

"They say you look for a wife, Lord Tywin." Lord Maerilys asked, the old lion just nodded in reply.

"I have three. The older one just returned from Dorne, and my two younger one's are yet to bleed but should be of cause my lord." Tywin's face scrunched up in disgust, though his face looked away from Loren, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sure Tywin had imposed a marriage on his daughter, but sell out your daughters that young. Then out of the blue, it hit Tywin.

"Kitchen wench." He scoffed under his breath. He hadn't been outsmarted in a while but surely he was looking forward to meeting this Lady as he put a name to the familiar face. He remembered you from the docks

All the Maerilys kids poured out one by one. Olyvar came first, head held high and the spitting Dornish image of his mother, behind him trailed the two younger girls, Nyela and Ellia. They stood in a line as Tywin was introduced to them, he shook the oldest boy's hands and charmingly complimented the little girls on their hair. Then burst through the doors was another, your hurried feet found you standing next to your little sisters, with a toddler in your arms. You gracefully bowed.

"This is my eldest daughter." your father introduced you, every cursed word you could think of you used on yourself internally. You prayed that he would keep his mouth shut about earlier, and thank the gods he did.

"And who might this be?" Tywin gestured at the child wriggling in your arms, your sweet brother you had only seen painted palm prints off in your mother's correspondences

"Harolld Maerilys, my lord." you voice spoke up, a lot gentler then earlier, almost a whisper as you tried to not startle the child.

Tywin that night thought of the proposition Lord Maerilys put forth, there was something about this girl that just made you tick. Tywin wasn't a child that merely beauty would sway him, though you were quite a sight he had seen in a while, full lips, expressive eyes. There was something commanding about you, the way your eyes never left his, your head held high even admist all this sorrow. He saw a gain in this too, an alliance between Martells and Lannisters, you were important enough for them to send you home with Martell sails.

The next morning he made his wishes heard, he would court you for the week he was to reside at Deep Den, and leave with a bride by him.

You were having none of it, a screaming match broke out in the hall. As servants and soldiers turned a deaf ear to them yet again. You had nothing against this wedding but you refused to leave you little sisters behind at the hands of a monster.

"The girls will leave with me to Dorne!" You yelled over your father's voice

"You watch it girl, I could sell you and sisters for a lump sum and no one would bat an eye!" Your father threw back, menacingly nearing your proximity. However you weren't a child anymore, you stood your ground glaring up at your father. His hand shot forward, yanking your head up from the root of your hair making you yelp out in pain.

"Hurt me, go on. My uncles will cut your hands off if I tell them about this." your words were laced in venom and yet the truth. Doran Martell, was viciously protective over you and Oberyn, your sweet uncle Oberyn. You were his sunshine, though he may never see you more than just his little niece, your heart once yearned for more with your Uncle Oberyn. Many whispered at Sunspear that you had given your maidenhead to him and how you wished that were true.

"My lord." Maester Crasden's voice made Lord Maerilys push his angry daughter away, as tears threatened to roll down your face. You sat on the chair with your head on the table, rubbing the spot your father had held onto. Crasden came over, his fingers gently parting your hair to check for injury, you sweet lady would be fine.

"Marry him child." you scoffed at Crasden but he looked at you as if he wasn't finished, he sat down next to you.

"You would be the Lady of Casterly Rock, our liege lady," he cleared his throat before going on "you could order your sisters away to Dorne." His hand patted your cheek "You would hold power, I could not help your mother child. Let me help you."

The old maester's words had sunk deep within you as you began to ponder on the topic of your marriage and finally gave in, other than Tywin's cruelty on the battlefield and politics, there was no account of him ever imposing himself on women, you began to think of if you'd be safe and the only way to confirm your queries would be from the source itself.

You and Lord Tywin had found yourselves in your mothers gardens, you had called for him yourself and Tywin was curious to hear what you had to say.

"I realise how auspicious of a union this is, however I have questions and terms of my own before I agree to this." you kept your voice strong as you voiced yourr feelings on the matter.

"Go on then, my lady." Tywin walked past you to sit down.

"I truly hope that you know my disdain isn't toward you my lord, but merely a worry for my prospects." you stated as you sat down across from him, you didn't want to elaborate further, not wanting to slander your father in front of his liege lord.

"I am aware, my lady" Tywin's stress on the word made you look away. If your mother's troubles had been so known, how come none of these vast noble lords come to her aid.

"You needn't worry about me imposing myself on you" He suggested making you look at him, grateful and confused

"You would be well looked after and eventually sponsored for when the time came for your duties at Casterly Rock." He elaborated further.

"I knew your mother, I have a debt that still needs to be paid." The mere mention of your mother made the your eyes gloss over.

"And I would be safe?" There was a gentle crack to your voice.

"You would be safe." He reassured you, the green of his eyes glinting against the sun.

So it was setttled, Lady Maerilys was to wed Lord Tywin Lannister, ravens flew from Deep Den to Castley Rock, The Red Keep and to Sunspear. The news of this alliance spread through both families, both his children and the Martells were furious at about the wedding but it was done. A small affair at the Great Hall, you wore your mother's ivory dress that was fit to your sizing, that morning your mind nearly changed again as you tried to make a break for the ports but was stopped by Olyvar. If not for yourself then you performed her duties to protect her sisters.

"Father."

"Smith."

"Warrior."

"Mother."

"Maiden."

"Crone."

"Stranger."

"I am hers and she is mine."

"I am his and he is mine."

"From this day until my last day."

A chaste kiss between the two sealed this union. You were now Lady Lannister of Castley Rock, and hell was to pay if anyone tried to hurt you.

next chapter

#tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister x you #tywinlannisterxyou #tywin x reader #tywin lannister x oc #tywin lannister #tywin lannister smut #tywin imagine #house Lannister #lannisters #house martell #got x you #got fanfiction #got x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #a song of ice and fire fanfic #Charles dance #Charles dance x reader

[tziaceleste]

Real

#jaime lannister #game of thrones #nikolaj coster waldau #interesting #got #shows #asoiaf #on my knees #looking respectfully #blood #restrained #chains #collar #hear me roar #hear me out #lannisters

[spellbound-fanfics]

Tormund Giantsbane is MASSIVELY underrated!

In my eyes, Tormund is such an underrated character - he's literally my favourite. People tell me it's just because I think he's funny with Brienne, but that's not even close to the real reason.

Yes, he's a funny guy and he really makes me smile when I see clips of him on a bad pain day. But he's also very respectful. He saw so much beauty in Brienne. He saw her size and her skill in battle and I really think he fell for her. Which was incredibly sweet. However, what I love most about him is how he handled being rejected by the 'Big Woman'. He didn't try and convince her that he was better than Jaime, or that he'd treat her better and support all of her endeavours (which I'm certain he would do) when it came to battle and wanting to be a Knight. He didn't lash out at Jaime.

He respected her decision even though it hurt him to do so. And that is why Tormund is my favourite character.

Who is your favourite underrated character?

#Game of Thrones #GoT #Tormund #Tormund Giantsbane #Brienne of Tarth #Brienne x Tormund #Brienne x Jaime #Knights #Swords #Battle #Underrated Characters #Underrated #Giantsbane #Wildings #ASOIAF #A Song of Ice and Fire #George RR Martin #Game of Thrones series #Game of Thrones show #Lannisters

[ilynpilled]

#tywin lannister when i find u…… #the way this was meant for jaime but it is cersei that internalizes it #it always comes back to that evil bald man im sick to my stomach #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #lannisters

[witheredoffherwitch]

So, I've been wondering… if HOTD was a high fashion runway show, what would each house wear? My guess is the Lannisters would be rocking Gucci, Baratheons donning Dolce & Gabbana and the Targaryen's styling the latest from Alexander McQueen. Armani for Hightowers and Elie Saab/ Hermes for Martells, maybe?

#hotd offtopic #kind of a shitpost #lannisters #baratheons #targaryens #can't make up my mind on Starks and Tullys

[lilianacrouch]

Lannisters:

We all know why I put the kids here haha.

Tywin is heavily inspired by Charles Dance (because of course) with the correct book features

I actually found a Nicole Kidman sims on the sims gallery, and used her as a stand in for Joanna, (didn't GRRM say she was a good faceclaim for Cercei once?) , and Cercei is a mix of her and Tywin.

Jaime is literally just a clone of Cercei, changed to male gender with just some small touches like lenghtening the face.

Joffrey is a mix of them again (with added wormy lips in honour of Sansa)

Myrcella and Tommen have some softer features, which you can't really see because sims kids all look the same haha

Tyrion has the same base features, just a bit twisted. (Ignore the purple hair at the bottom)

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #asoiaf fanart #fanart #the sims 4 #ts4 #lannisters #house lannister #tywin lannister #cercei lannister #jaime lannister #joffrey baratheon #myrcella baratheon #tommen baratheon #tyrion lannister

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 7)

WARNINGS: Mentions of rape and gore

Word Count: 7k

—————

My grandmother was set upon hearing it from a firsthand witness. ‘It’ being whether or not King Joffrey truly was a beast, or whether he was over exaggerated. I had a feeling deep inside of me that he was the first, but my grandmother desired to speak with Sansa Stark either way, for who else but she would know?

That was how I found myself sitting with my grandmother and Margaery in the gardens, patiently waiting for Loras to retrieve the girl from her chambers. I resigned to the covered balcony in the meantime, for it was much quieter and I could watch the sea. 

“Is it too much?”

I turned to look at Margaery as she approached me, and gave her a slight nod. She was of course referring to the various members of our family who had decided to join us in King’s Landing, as they constantly populated the gardens and were currently quite loud with their chatter.

“I would complain about how many men and women came with us from Highgarden, but I know it helps you and grandmother feel more familiar in this horrid place, and that’s enough for me,” I told her, leaning over to kiss her hair as she came to my side and linked our arms. There was so much in life that burdened me, but to be her older sister was never one of them. I supposed I’d been enamored with my siblings from the moment they came into the world, and I’d taken it upon myself to protect and care for them in any way that I could.

“I don’t know how you manage it,” Margaery said, sighing and leaning her head on my shoulder. I returned the gesture, laying my head on top of hers. 

“Manage what?”

“Being here without any… any friends.”

I smiled softly and looked down.

“I have you, grandmother, and Loras. That’s quite enough for me. Most of my friends at home are soldiers anyway, and I get quite enough of them here. Plus, Ser Elias arrived in the capital a few days ago and it has certainly made me much happier,” I assured her, hand coming up to gently rub her back. His wife had finally given birth; it was a healthy young boy.

“Well, at least there’s that. On the subject of soldiers, though, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I overheard Father talking with Loras yesterday. Some of our men had quite the brawl with the Lannister soldiers, it seems,” Margaery confessed, giving me quite the shock in doing so. Our men had never been indecent, it was something I demanded of them. You can only keep and command such a large army with rules of behavior and decorum in place, and I’d certainly done so in my father’s stead. That’s why I was rather shocked, because what on earth would have caused such a thing to happen? 

“What? What happened, and how is it that Father knows before I do? Yes, they’re technically his armies, but he appointed me head of it years ago for a reason. Usually I’m the first to know when these things happen,” I wondered aloud, also somewhat frustrated by the fact that my father had not even had the sense to tell me such a thing. Nor had anyone else, for that matter, which was especially odd. I usually got quick reports when brawls happened, even if they were rare.

“Well, from what I heard… it was about you,” Margaery noted, and I could hear the hesitation in her voice. I got the sense that she knew more than she was letting on and did not entirely want to tell me.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, apparently two Lannister soldiers were making harsh insults and rather…tasteless comments about you. That was what made our men lunge,” she explained, making me exhale through my nose. I wasn’t surprised in the least.

I’d dealt with men from other armies and groups for quite some time, and just like any woman, I’d been subjected to plenty of insults and lewd comments for nearly my entire life as well. At the very least, it felt good to know my soldiers had my back and would not allow my name to be tarnished in such a way.

“Is Father afraid I’ll be upset?”

“I’m not certain. He told Loras he was meeting with Lord Tywin so they could discuss the conflict. They were supposed to meet yesterday, I believe. I meant to tell you beforehand, but I didn’t see you,” she informed me, making my dread even worse. Dear gods, why had my father thought that going to Tywin Lannister without even mentioning it to me was the best option?

“Don’t worry yourself with it, Margaery. I’m just- I’m quite frustrated that Father did such a thing. He undermined my authority and made me look weak in doing so, even if he didn’t realize it. I’ll speak to Lord Tywin today and clear things up. After this whole interrogation is done, anyway,” I remarked, shaking my head with sheer anger. Of all the things for him to do.

“(Y/N)! Come here, you’ve received a letter.”

I turned around at the sound of my grandmother’s voice, finding Ser Elias standing beside her. I raised a quizzical eyebrow at Margaery, but she shrugged and followed behind me as we approached the two of them.

“A letter?”

“A Lannister soldier brought it,” Ser Elias explained, scratching his short, dark beard. I took it from his free hand and inspected it carefully; the seal was the Lannister sigil, not that of the Hand. Confused and somewhat curious, I opened it and quickly discovered—by the noticeable handwriting of course—that it was in fact from Lord Tywin. I quickly began to read.

Lady (Y/N),

The smith that I requested from Essos arrived in King’s Landing yesterday. I’m asking you to accompany me today, as I’m unfortunately busy the rest of the week, and presume that you would like the sword finished sooner rather than later. Bring your blade and meet me in the stables.

-Tywin Lannister

I smiled as I folded it back up, slipping it into the pockets of my dress. I would finally make this weapon mine, and that thought was thrilling. 

“Would you accompany me to my chambers and then to the stables, Ser Elias? There is something I need to get,” I asked rather vaguely. He nodded, but my grandmother raised an eyebrow. 

“So, you get some letter and suddenly you’re exempt from this? Shame on you, dear. You ought to care more about your sister's future husband,” she lectured, to which I merely laughed, nodding at her with sarcastic agreement. She was only playing, of course.

“It is from the Lord Hand, grandmother, it would be rude to leave him waiting,” I said, voice full of insincerity. Both my grandmother and Margaery laughed, giving each other a knowing look. 

“Oh yes! The Lord Hand, gods forbid he do anything that isn’t on his own time or in his own interest. Go on then, attend to whatever damned thing he’s mentioned. All I ask is that you try not to end an alliance while doing it,” my grandmother scoffed, waving me off. 

I merely smiled and gave her an ambiguous shrug, walking away with Ser Elias at my side. As I left, I heard Margaery whisper something which I couldn’t make out. Well, it wasn’t of any importance to me, but the laughs the two of them let out while gazing in my direction were certainly curious. 

“So, may I ask what the letter said?” Ser Elias inquired after a moment, turning his head toward me and raising an eyebrow at the sheer excitement on my face. He, more than most, was quite aware of my hatred for Lord Tywin, and so naturally I was sure he thought I’d gone insane.

“A smith has arrived from Essos, one that knows how to work Valyrian steel. Lord Tywin summoned him for me, for nothing moves men like gold does. Either way, I want to get my sword reworked. You’ve seen how big it is right now, I could probably get at least two daggers off the thing,” I explained, feeling myself absolutely beam at the thought. Ser Elias had already seen the sword—in fact, it had been one of the first things I’d shown him when he’d arrived in King’s Landing. Still, the blade had been big for him, and he was around 6’6”. I suspected the man who’d split my side with the thing was at least 7 feet tall. 

“It was rather kind of Lord Tywin to do that. We’ll have quite a lot of fun practicing once you’re able to wield the blade. Though, I’m afraid I’m not very well suited for going against you if you’re using two daggers,” he noted, making me smile to myself.

“I know you’re sick of hearing me complain, so I won’t comment upon your first sentiment, but yes, I agree, practice will be fun. As for daggers, the man I was practicing with before you got here seemed to be rather good with that kind of combat. Perhaps I could ask him to join us at some point,” I suggested, walking through the keep and up various flights of stairs without anything more than the gentlest pain. My wound practically was fully healed now, even if there was still the slightest hint of pain. As far as the maesters were concerned though, I could do whatever I wanted to without worrying about it. It had been 10 years since hearing something had made me so happy. 

“By all means, ask him. Gods know that you’re far too advanced for me now,” Ser Elias replied, chuckling to himself as we approached my room. We’d gotten here rather quickly, much to my surprise. 

“Well, I’d like to remind you that you’re the only reason I am so advanced. You were my first teacher, Elias, and I’ll always be grateful for it,” I said, making sure he wouldn’t forget that fact. He was the one who’d made me passionate about fighting, and who knows if another teacher would’ve done the same?

He only smiled as he pulled the door open for me, and I quickly went to grab the sword. I was impossibly giddy, like a child again. It was already beautiful, I could hardly comprehend how breathtaking it would be once it had a handle to match my armor.

“Can you sheathe it while we walk to the stables? I fear a woman walking around with a sword as big as that might raise lots of eyebrows and questions,” I asked Ser Elias, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind me. He instantly nodded, putting it in his belt and walking a step or two behind me on our way to the stables, for it wouldn’t have seemed proper to any nobles that we passed by if he was next to me.

It thankfully didn’t take very long to get there either, and when we arrived I found Lord Tywin waiting for me. Both of our horses were prepared, and though I didn’t notice it, so were the ones of two Lannister guards.

“Lord Tywin,” I nodded at him, and he did the same in turn, also replying with a brief ‘Lady (Y/N)’. He looked Ser Elias over then, presumably because he was quite tall, and was especially so while standing next to me. I turned back to look at him, and he handed me the sword. Lord Tywin only stood and watched. 

“Thank you, Ser. No need to accompany us, Lord Tywin and I should be fine,” I reasoned, to which he simply bowed his head and left. I did not want Ser Elias to be there if my bickering with the Lord Hand got particularly bad. Plus, the two of us had done fine on our own the last time we’d rode through King’s Landing, and we were only going to the street of steel anyway.

“Quite the man, isn’t he?” Lord Tywin said suddenly, pulling his eyes away from the door and looking at me now. I shrugged, handing him the sword so that he could sheathe it for the same reason that I’d had Ser Elias do so.

“Ser Elias has been my guard and closest friend since I was a girl. I suppose I’m used to his height. He’s really not that intimidating at all,” I replied, mounting my horse and looking over as Lord Tywin did the same. He said nothing back, but there was a vague annoyance on his face that I couldn’t figure out. He grumbled something, though I didn’t hear it. I considered asking, but I knew it was not addressed towards me or it would’ve been audible. Lord Tywin was not the kind of man to speak softly.

We spurred the horses, riding casually down the main road of the Red Keep. As we did, I realized two Lannister guards were riding behind us. So much for going on our own, then.

“You know, Lord Tywin, if you were going to have your men accompany us, I could’ve had Ser Elias come instead,” I told him, wondering why he hadn’t protested. Ser Elias and I combined would’ve been ten times more effective than the two fools with us.

“I’m aware,” the Old Lion replied curtly, not even bothering to look at me as he said it. I sighed, knowing that just like always I was going to have to put up with his foul moods before he warmed up.

“There’s no need to be rude, Lord Tywin. I don’t know what has you in such a bad mood, but you did invite me here today, so there’s no point in being bitter. Unless you’re merely afraid of looking happy in front of your men,” I told him, grinning as a sudden urge developed in my head. Before he could say anything, I turned to look back at the guards. I couldn’t see their eyes, but I could feel their discomfort at my observation of them.

“What do you think, gentlemen? Wouldn’t you like to see Lord Tywin smile for once?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at them to suggest I wanted a reply. The two looked between each other and gave me a silent nod, for my word was less incriminating than their lord hearing them say yes. Satisfied, I turned back to Lord Tywin and laughed quietly.

“The vote is unanimous, my lord, you’re allowed to cheer up,” I announced, grinning. He only stayed quiet, and my smile faltered. Even as we left the Red Keep, he still remained silent, and I was beginning to grow irritated. Usually he would at least show frustration and entertain me; right now he was only being boring.

“I regret not bringing Ser Elias, he might’ve made this outing more enjoyable, as clearly you don’t intend to talk to me,” I said rather passive aggressively, looking around the streets as we rode. We were in the nicer part of King's Landing and I still felt miserable. I might as well have been questioning Sansa Stark about Joffrey right now.

“How old is Ser Elias?” Lord Tywin asked suddenly, still sounding rather irritated. I hissed with feigned pain, grabbing at my ears to suggest that he hadn’t spoken in so long that the sound of his voice was too loud for me. When he glared, I rolled my eyes and relented. So he wasn’t a statue after all.

“He’s 13 years older than I am, so I suppose about 38 now,” I guessed, doing the math in my head and shrugging. I couldn’t even recall the last time I’d thought about it.

“Is he married?”

“Yes, his first son was just born this month, that’s why he’s only now arrived from Highgarden. Why?” I adjusted my grip on the reins, glancing back and forth between the street and the man beside me as I waited for an answer. Lord Tywin again, said nothing, and I sighed. Why did he care so damn much about Ser Elias? That was when it clicked.

Did he believe Ser Elias had romantic feelings for me? 

I began to laugh, and I gaped at Lord Tywin, who had raised a quizzical eyebrow in response to my rather loud giggling. He did not look amused, but still felt obligated to question me anyway.

“What?”

“Did you think that Ser Elias was in love with me? Is that why you were asking questions about him?” I asked, still laughing and finding myself unable to stop. That was the most impossible scenario on earth, though I supposed that anybody who hadn’t really seen the two of us interact wouldn’t be aware.

“If you’ve known him for that long and are so close to him, it was only a natural assumption. If he doesn’t have affection for you now, he has at some point, I promise,” Lord Tywin said, a slight hint of anger in his voice. I had positively no clue why he was angry about such a random subject, but I supposed he was always angry in general.

“And how would you presume to know anything about Ser Elias? It’s a very bold assumption to make,” I told him, thinking it absolutely ridiculous. I could still recall listening to him go on about how beautiful and perfect his wife was, even long before they’d gotten married. Plus, he’d always referred to me as a daughter of sorts. If anything, that should’ve made Lord Tywin vehemently against the idea, for he was quite good at denying the existence of incestious relationships.

“He’s a man and he’s got a pair of working eyes. Not to mention, he has at least half a brain,” he said, looking over at me with both eyebrows raised. I scoffed at him, shaking my head and almost finding his sentiment amusing.

“By those requirements, Lord Tywin, you ought to be madly in love with me. You disprove your own point. Ah, well, I suppose you did say at least half a brain. You may fail to reach that standard,” I reasoned, watching his face go tense for a moment. I grinned, enjoying that at least the insult had gotten to him, for I’d never seen him make that expression before.

“Let’s dismount here, the street gets too narrow up that way, and it’s a short walk,” he said suddenly, changing the subject. I huffed out, but did as he suggested anyway. The two guards behind us did the same, and Lord Tywin handed his reins to one of them.

“Go tie them up, and take Lady Tyrell’s horse too,” he ordered, only looking at the men briefly. The other one came up to me, taking my own horse and moving off to the side. 

Lord Tywin looked at me after a moment, motioning that we walk. I moved over to be beside him, and from there we began our stroll toward the smith. I was only grateful that the weather was nice today.

“Lord Tywin, now that the guards aren’t with us, may I ask you something?” I questioned after a moment, noticing that we’d left them a bit behind. He merely raised an eyebrow at me, which I knew was a signal for me to do so. I swallowed, trying to figure out how to begin.

“I- well, I’ve heard that my father met with you over a conflict between our bannermen. May I ask why I was not included in that discussion? I am the head of the Tyrell army, and I know the conflict began because of comments made about me, but I would have liked to be consulted in the matter regardless,” I said, folding my hands behind my back to not appear so anxious.

“And I had told your father as much, but he was adamant that it was unnecessary to involve you. I would guess that he simply did not wish to upset you, though he should’ve known you’d find out anyway. I did not fight him on it, I’ve got far too little time for such things. Either way, it’s all been dealt with, and rest assured we kept your best interests in mind,” Lord Tywin informed, keeping his gaze ahead of us at all times just as mine was. Even if not in Flea Bottom, it was important to be alert at all times in King’s Landing. 

“What happened? In terms of consequences, I mean,” I asked him, desiring to know what the outcome of their meeting had been. I was going to be rather upset if my men had been subjected to some harsh punishment at Lord Tywin’s command, though he had sounded genuine enough. Then again, what did he and my father know about ‘my best interests’?

“For your men, nothing. I assured your father that they were in the right to defend you, especially because they were being provoked. However, the two Lannister soldiers that were making rude and distasteful comments have lost their tongues.”

I stopped walking, my mouth falling open for a moment. I was shocked, but Lord Tywin did not seem phased at all. He only stared at me blankly as I attempted to process what I had just heard him say.

“You cut out their tongues for making a couple of lewd comments about me?” I clarified, wondering if that was not the only reason. At least, I hoped it wasn’t, because if it was, it naturally meant that the two men had said something quite serious.

“Yes, I did. Lannisters, even soldiers, have a reputation to uphold. I will not have my men making unbecoming comments about noble women, and especially not about you. As the head of the Tyrell army, of course,” he said, pausing after the ‘especially not about you’ bit. I swallowed, finding it in myself to begin walking again. Lord Tywin did the same once I was at his side.

“What could have possibly been so horrible it warranted that? What in the seven hells did they say? And don’t bother making it more ‘proper’, I deserve to know,” I told him, not able to imagine what would’ve been so bad that he’d felt the need to take such an action. Lord Tywin was quiet for a moment, as if contemplating whether or not he ought to tell me. When he opened his mouth, he could not meet my eyes.

“From what the two men told me personally, they were taunting your soldiers and saying they would… ‘rape you’ and ‘enjoy making the tears stream down your face’ as they…” Lord Tywin trailed off, and when I looked over at him there was a deep conflict in his eyes—a sort of solemn anger. My stomach had already dropped; I figured I might as well hear all of it. 

“Please tell me, Lord Tywin,” I whispered, giving him a pleading look. He swallowed and licked his lips nervously. I’d never seen him act so anxious before, and it was extremely unsettling. 

“As they made you… ‘gag on their cocks’, and took turns- took turns… ‘filling your cunt’,” Lord Tywin said quietly, clearly struggling to get through it. His eyebrows contorted in all different manners, and his eyes narrowed as he spoke. I could hear the disgust—along with the upset—in his voice, and he only looked down at me once quite a bit of silence had followed his statement.

I was quiet, trying to process what I’d just heard. I was no longer even thinking about the fact that they’d had their tongues removed, only about what they’d said. There was a cold anxiety rushing over me, because even if I knew that they couldn’t actually do such a thing to me, the picture of it was still in my mind. 

I felt my lower lip begin to tremble involuntarily, and I could not make it stop. I was afraid, even despite the bravery that I was so accustomed to flaunting during tourneys and battles. I had already been assaulted before, and that had impacted me in a quite significant way. I could not even comprehend how I would manage to move on if men like those two, or even the Baratheon soldier, ever got the chance to act on their words. 

“I shouldn’t feel grateful for what you ordered, but I am,” I said quietly, finally looking up at Lord Tywin with glossy eyes. His own eyes softened when he saw the look on my face, and he nodded gently.

“After the Battle of Blackwater, Lady (Y/N), you chided me that the man who gives the order ought to do it himself. You will be pleased to know that I took your statement to heart,” he told me, somehow filling me with even more shock. 

“You- You cut their tongues off yourself?” I asked, clearing my throat from the block that had seemed to form as a response. I was looking over at him with wide eyes, and when he met my gaze, he was perfectly composed.  

I saw it in his eyes: him ordering his guards to grab the two men after they’d been interrogated. The two faceless men would have panicked as they watched Lord Tywin pull out his blade, informing them that he intended to remove their tongues. I could picture them squirming and struggling to break free, but they would not. The only thing they would do was scream as the guards held their mouths open and the Lord of Casterly Rock himself gripped and cut. In my sick fantasy, I could see their blood splattering onto his hands, and I could see just how unphased Lord Tywin looked while doing it. 

When I came back to the present, Lord Tywin stopped walking and turned to face me. I similarly froze, waiting for whatever he was going to reply with. His breathing had become more intense.

“Yes, I did, and I’ll do it again if any man dares to say such things about you, gods forbid actually act upon it. You may criticize my brutality, Lady (Y/N), but know that if a man ever does such a thing, he will face more wrath than you can possibly imagine. I promised to keep you safe from such assault, and I will do so,” he assured me, voice more than just serious as he did so. My lips parted as I gazed up at him, looking back and forth between his eyes. 

The Great Lion of the Rock, that was what they called him. My heart—despite how much I claimed to hate this man—swelled at his sentiments. I ought to have been angry, or to have lectured Lord Tywin about his cruelty, but I could not. Somewhere inside this cruel, cold man, there was genuine care, and it made me feel more safe than anything ever had. 

I said nothing, but I nodded at the Lord Hand, and he knew that I was too overwhelmed to speak. We began to walk once more, and I felt myself drifting closer to him. I did not look at him as I did it, but I reached for Lord Tywin’s arm and clung to it with both of my hands. When he adjusted himself so that I could hold on more comfortably, I leaned my head against his shoulder. 

Today had changed something for me, even despite the fact that I’d tried very hard to uphold my hatred for Tywin Lannister. It was not the gifts that had done it, nor had it been saving my life, but it had been this gesture. To know that he genuinely sought to protect me, to make certain that I was safe. That was what had broken my firm hatred for this man.

“Are you alright, Lady (Y/N)?” Lord Tywin asked softly after a moment, looking down at me. I nodded against his arm, not particularly knowing what to say. There really wasn’t anything for me to say. He cleared his throat after a moment, looking ahead again as we turned onto another street. “I’m well aware of the fact that you detest me, but please know that-”

“I don’t,” I said quickly, cutting him off. With his usual stern look, he raised an eyebrow at me. I swallowed, stuttering quite a bit as I tried to get my point across. “I- I apologize for interrupting you, Lord Tywin, but I merely wanted to clarify that, well, I don’t hate you. Sure, you’re still an insufferable cu- you’re still insufferable a lot of the time, but I don’t hate you, per say.”

“And what of your infamous vow to loathe me until the day you die?” he questioned, surprising me with his knowledge of its existence. I supposed it made sense that he’d found out, it wasn’t as if I’d exactly kept my vow a secret. 

“Well, perhaps my heart stopped beating for a few moments during the Battle of Blackwater. At least, I hope it did. It would be a far less degrading explanation,” I replied, lifting my head and giving him a somewhat cheeky smile. He huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head at how ridiculous I was. He had laughed though, and that was quite enough for me, even if it was rather strange to grapple with the fact that I didn’t entirely detest him.

After a few more minutes of walking we finally arrived at the smith, and when we stepped inside I could smell the fresh forged steel, not to mention the sweat of hard working men. The man in charge—or so it seemed—noticed us rather swiftly and came over to greet us. I was quick to let go of Lord Tywin’s arm. 

“How may I help you today, Lord Hand?” he asked, wiping his hands with a cloth. It seemed Lord Tywin must’ve been here at least once or twice before. Either way, he merely reached into his pocket and handed the smith a small, sealed parchment. When the man finished reading it, he motioned for us to follow. 

We were led through a small door, and from there down a large set of stairs. Our destination was an expansive basement, and I could instantly feel the heat coming from a gigantic fireplace in the middle of the room. There, we found two men working on a rather detailed helmet. When they heard us enter, they turned around and bowed their heads out of respect. 

“My lord, good morning. Thank you for calling upon me. You wished for me to rework a sword, correct?” the bald one confirmed, coming up to us and adjusting the apron around his neck. 

I could hear the distinct accent in his voice, and I wondered which part of Essos he was from. I assumed that he was the smith Lord Tywin had sent for, and that the young man with him was either a son or an apprentice—or perhaps both.

“Yes, that’s correct. However, it is the lady’s sword, not mine. You ought to speak to her about it,” Lord Tywin said, motioning to me and removing my blade from his belt. He handed it to the smith, who took it and examined it quite carefully. The man looked at me and nodded, motioning to follow.

“I did not realize the blade would be quite this large. Would you like me to forge it into two, my lady?” He asked, placing it sideways upon a narrow stone block. The apprentice came over and held it properly while the smith reached for a hammer.

“I was hoping for a sword and two daggers. If it leaves the sword still a bit relatively large, that’s fine. I could use the advantage,” I told him, watching as he slammed down on the current handle and slid it off once it came loose. I suddenly recalled doing the same thing to a man’s sword during the Greyjoy Rebellion, though he had been far less excited about it.

“A sword and two daggers? Are these…” the man trailed off, moving away from my blade and looking around. He picked up three handles—one big and two small—and held them up for me to see. “Are these for you then? One of the men upstairs gave them to me and said they were for a distinguished customer.” 

“Yes, those would be for her. The same man made her armor, they’re meant to match,” Lord Tywin answered, coming up beside me with his hands clasped behind his back. I hadn’t even realized he’d proactively had the handles made, I’d only briefly mentioned wanting to make daggers out of it that once. 

Though, I was grateful for it, as they were just as absolutely breathtaking as my armor. All three of them were ornamented with golden vines, full of thorns, roses, and nightshade. And of course, they were not missing the gorgeous jewels that had been added to my helm. 

“Of course. Very well, a sword and two daggers,” the smith nodded in confirmation, motioning for the boy he was working with to bring the blade over. Lord Tywin and I watched attentively as the two of them placed it down onto a unique table, fire soon enveloping the stone and beginning to melt the steel.

I found myself possessed as I began drifting closer toward it, utterly mesmerized by the sight, but the Hand of the King gripped my wrist. When I turned to look at him, he gave me a knowing look. I only took a step back, sighing out as I observed the steel becoming a sort of molton looking thing. 

“Stay put for a moment, hm? I want to go look at some of the other weapons they have displayed. The king will be in need of a wedding present,” Lord Tywin muttered, to which I only rolled my eyes and nodded. Of course, the second that he went over to the wall to admire the smith’s other work, I moved closer to the table and began asking questions.

“Can you add details to the metal?” I questioned, folding my hands together and looking at the man with eager curiosity. It was Valyrian steel, so I was not sure what could and could not be done to it, but I figured I ought to ask anyway. The worst reply would only be no.

“Yes, but it would have to be small. Did you have something in mind, my lady?” he answered, snapping at the other boy to go and check on Lord Tywin. I smiled, nodding and looking down at the fully melted blade.

“There is a design on my handle, a small berry with star shaped leaves. Could you add that at the base of the blade?” I requested, to which he instantly said ‘of course’. I turned my head at the sound of Lord Tywin’s voice, though I relaxed when I realized he was only speaking to the apprentice. A sudden idea came to mind.

“How fine can you make the details?” 

“As fine as you would like them. What do you desire?”

“It is an odd request, and I know that you’re accustomed to weaponry, but do you think you could take some of the steel and turn it into a ring?” 

“I certainly could.”

“Then please do. I would like to make the ring for the Lord Hand. Do you think you could put the head of a lion at the front, and then a pattern of small roses around the entire thing, just through the middle?” I whispered, hoping it wasn’t too specific a request and simultaneously hoping that Lord Tywin was busy contemplating Joffrey’s wedding present. The smith smiled and nodded.

“Of course, my lady. I will keep some of the metal and forge it later so he does not notice it.”

“Thank you so much. I will pay you extra for it.”

Realizing that Lord Tywin was coming back over, I only smiled and stepped away, though not without meeting his scrutinizing gaze. I wasn’t entirely sure why he’d expected me to stay put in the first place; I was not fond of listening to people, and especially not him.

“You’re quite the burden, Lady (Y/N),” he chided me after a moment, watching the two men now pour the metal into a separate jar and take it to another table. They had already set out the molds for my sword and daggers.

“Oh, and you’re not?” I remarked, raising an eyebrow at him. He did not look at me, but there was a slight amusement on his face. I only shook my head, deciding to focus on the molten metal as they poured it into the molds. 

It was practically flaming, with red and orange embers sizzling off due to the sheer temperature. I’d never seen a more beautiful sight, and my mouth fell open involuntarily. That steel was to be mine; I could hardly comprehend it.

Once it began to harden, I saw the smith forming the design I’d requested at the base of it, much to my satisfaction. Lord Tywin placed a hand on my upper back, and when I turned my head to look up at him, he gave a subtle smile.

“Are you going to name the daggers too?” he questioned after a moment, watching as they subjected the metal to a rather interesting cooling process. Gods, Valyrian steel was gorgeous. 

“I ought to,” I agreed, trying to think of what I could possibly call them. The names should fit together, for they would be matching daggers besides the slight variation in jewels. That was how I could tell them apart, though. “Perhaps- Perhaps I’ll call them Thorn and Claw. Even if it is rather unoriginal, at least my brother will feel his suggestion has been honored.”

“After you spent so much time criticizing the name Ice.” Lord Tywin shook his head at me, and I smacked his arm with the back of my hand, laughing at his lecturing. What did he expect? Flowers only have so many sharp components, after all. I supposed it did make me a bit hypocritical, but I could live with that.

“If you’re going to be mean about it, I’m more than happy to change Claw to something else,” I shot back, having chosen the name as a small reference to him, or House Lannister at any rate. Plus, it did sound rather intimidating. 

“I’m not being mean, Lady (Y/N).”

“Ahuh.”

I’d been so busy bickering with Lord Tywin, that by the time we’d ended our small discussion the smith and his apprentice were approaching us with the freshly forged blades, already attached to their handles. When they handed the sword to me, my mouth fell open once again.

It was breathtaking, and I was instantly approaching the fire so that I might see it better. The thing practically had my name written all over it, and I was utterly ecstatic. Side Splitter was the best thing I’d ever had the privilege of owning, and I was quite certain that among all the ancestral Valyrian steel in Westeros, this was the most beautiful of them all. 

When Lord Tywin came up to me and presented the daggers, I felt even happier. I took one in my hand and found that the weight of it was utterly perfect, just as my sword was. Tears had begun to fill my eyes, and I was smiling when they rolled onto my cheeks. The Lord Hand wiped them away.

“Are you satisfied with them?” he questioned softly, also admiring the blade in my hands. I instantly nodded, sniffling and sighing out with content.

“More than. They’re beautiful, Tywin. Utterly beautiful,” I whispered, so preoccupied with them that I hadn’t even noticed myself using his first name alone. He shifted beside me, but did not remark about it. 

“I’m glad that you’re happy with them.” He turned around then, approaching the smith again and reaching into his pocket. When he removed his hand, I saw a decent sized pouch of gold and realized that he intended to pay for it himself.

“Lord Tywin- my lord, that’s quite alright, I can cover the cost,” I attempted to interrupt, placing my sword down on another table and then rushing over to them. The Great Lion only shook his head.

“I will cover it. I have the gold on hand,” he noted, then thanking the smith and receiving a small bag and wrap to safely keep the daggers in. I sighed, shaking my head and going back to get the sword. Lord Tywin followed knowingly and sheathed it when I handed it to him.

“We will discuss this outside, Lord Tywin,” I muttered, to which he only grumbled in response. We both gave the smith and his apprentice another genuine ‘thank you’ before leaving, and I subtly confirmed that I would pay them more for the ring later on. From there, we went back upstairs and then out of the establishment. 

“I’ll pay you back whatever sum you gave the man, and you’re not going to argue with me about it,” I said once we were on the street. Lord Tywin did not even bother to meet my eyes.

“There is no need.”

“It is my sword, I ought to repay the debt-”

“It’s not a debt, Lady (Y/N), it is a gift.”

That was all he said before offering me his arm. My previously annoyed glance dissipated, and my face softened as I took it. The small fluttering in my stomach was a strange sensation, and I found myself wondering if perhaps I had not eaten enough at breakfast. It was of no importance, I was certain that grandmother would have lemon cakes and cheese ready in the gardens. 

What was of importance, however, was the fact that I had just cemented this sword as part of my legacy. It would be passed on through the generations, but it would never lose the distinct design of nightshade. It would never lose me. Because family lines die out, and ink fades away, but Valyrian steel never rusts. 

—————

“Let her in!”

I was standing outside the Hand’s chambers, and after being announced, that was the prompt response I’d heard through the thick double doors. The Lannister guards reached to open it, and I stepped inside the office with a small box behind my back. Lord Tywin only looked up at me from his desk once the door was closed. 

“Close your eyes, Lord Tywin,” I said, making my way into the room and closer to him. He gave me a rather annoyed look, for I was sure he did not appreciate being interrupted in the middle of his work. I couldn’t have cared less.

“Why?”

“Just trust me,” I told him, smiling as he sighed and leaned back in his chair, eyes now shut. I made my way past the rather long table and over to his actual office space, observing the room as I did, for I hadn’t really spent any time in the Tower of the Hand before. 

I couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle as I placed the small box on his desk, and I watched his eyebrow raise at the sound of it even though his eyelids were shut. It was very amusing to see him like this.

“May I open them now?” he asked after a moment, to which I nodded. Of course, I then remembered he couldn’t see me and gave the verbal ‘go ahead’. 

Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking a few times and then realizing there was now a box on his desk. He reached for it carefully, as if asking for permission, and I motioned for him to open it. 

Gently, Lord Tywin took it in his hands and pulled the lid off. Inside, he found the Valyrian steel ring—just as I had instructed it be made—surrounded by cotton to keep it safe. Not that Valyrian steel needed to be kept safe, but still, it prevented it from rolling around. 

I watched his mouth fall open, a true and genuine shock overcoming him. It surprised me, for Tywin Lannister did not gape. It filled me with quite a lot of joy to know I had made him do so.

“(Y/N)…” 

That was the only thing he could mutter, and it made my cheeks heat. Lord Tywin had never only used my first name. I wished more than anything to know what thoughts were running through his head.

“Try it on. It should fit, but just to make sure,” I prompted, smiling as he lifted it from the box and slid it onto his fourth finger. He had placed it onto his left hand, for his right already had a poison ring on his middle finger, and I assumed he did not want the weight to be uncomfortable. But most importantly, the Valyrian steel ring fit perfectly on his hand, and he couldn’t stop staring at it.

For a moment I wondered if I’d sent Lord Tywin into shock, because he hadn’t said anything other than my name, but he suddenly inhaled and stood from his chair. He took my hands in his, his eyes desperately searching mine.

“You stupid, stupid girl. Why would you bother making me a ring out of Valyrian steel?” He asked, raising one hand to my cheek. My lips parted, and I found myself stuttering as I spoke. There was that odd fluttering again.

“I- I wanted you to have it, Lord Tywin. I had excess steel, and it’ll serve as a good reminder of our… our alliance. Our friendship,” I replied, swallowing. His eyes stared deep into mine, and I saw something change on his face. His hand dropped from my face, and he nodded as he once again admired the ring.

“Thank you, Lady (Y/N). Thank you very much.”

At that moment, I had no clue that whenever he was stressed, upset, or angry, Lord Tywin would end up rubbing his thumb on that ring to soothe himself. I had no idea he would end up grazing the lion's head against his lips when contemplating. But, most importantly, I had no clue that when he was lying awake tonight, the ring I’d given him would make him settle on a rather harsh decision. One that would make both of us realize something that we had initially believed to be utterly unthinkable. 

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@the-desilittle-bird @dianilaws @girlonfireice 

@muscari-fae @lostgirllulu 

@abigfanofgameofthrones @smalltownbigheart 

@frombloodandflesh @supernaturalismyreligion666

@thanyatargaryen @rey26 @hexandale @pkawaiidesu5394 @aimsro @gbatesx @lockleysgrl

#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #tywin imagine #tywin x reader #lannisters #house lannister #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #asoiaf #a lion in the garden

[that-guy-in-the-chiton]

Baby Joanna and Jason being a great father.

#jason lannister #joanna lannister #marla prester #lannisters #pre asoiaf #pre game of thrones #got fanart #got #asoiaf fanart #asoiaf #baby joanna #myart #fanart #game of thrones #grrm #george rr martin

[dolorous-eddd]

if you are 18+, friendly, queer-friendly, and ship characters from ASOIAF/GOT, you are welcome to join Not Safe For Westeros, a discord server dedicated to ship and kink content in the lands of Westeros and Essos

#asoiaf #game of thrones #lannisters #boltons #greyjoys #baratheons #the nights watch #stavos #thramsay #there are far too many characters and ships to tag so if you know someone this might be a good fit for please send it along!

[zetaaa]

Little blue (roaring) boy.

#281 a.c. #jaime's raised to the kingsguard #tyrion becomes the heir to the rock #lannisters #little lonely lions #asoiaf

[hum-suffer]

On the note that i literally cannot fall asleep rn (I drank coffee last night) (i have zero regrets) would anyone be interested in reading a Jon Snow/Tywin Lannister fic?

It's supposed to be crack but knowing me, I'll make it political and angsty and about family feels

#suffer ye suhana nahi #jon snow #tywin lannister #jon snow x tywin Lannister #hehehehehe its not even a suggested tag on Tumblr 😭 #im actually gonna do yhis for a friend but im just asking because I wanna know if someone sees the vision #game of thrones #Lannisters #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

[themotherofblood]

CHAPTER 3 | RIVER OF GOLD | The Journey | T.L x Reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2

tw: mentions of rape and murder

~ the wedding was charming, if a little gauche ~

"My new home— it doesn't feel much of a home. It is foreign, I am foreign. I see it in the way the attendants glance at me, mayhaps my wild hair. A mythical creature trapped in a fine gown made of crimson velvet and gold. The beaches however are beautiful, sometimes I take off my boots and stand at the shore; salt water cools my feet and just for a moment. I don't miss home."

The journey had been swift, the preparations made through the evening with rows of wheelhouses and bannermen on horses, a joy parade to have Tywin lead his young wife to his ancestral seat. Ravens were sent hours before the blazing afternoon sun, to have your chambers thoroughly prepared and unpacked with your belongings. It appears Lady Genna Lannister had taken personal initiative to gather a toehold of handmaidens and a personal secretary for your coffers.

Your sisters had been tearful, puffed-mouthed poppets clinging to your skits with their dolls in hand. Nyela had fixated a minute glare upon your husband as he conversed with his brother in the Great Hall. The household staff gathered to see off their darling lady and liege lord.

"You swore you would take us with you," Ellia whimpers,  "we supposed to visit Uncle Doran."

"We were supposed to," you correct, taking a piece of her loose behind her ear "I'm sorry darling." You engulfed her, the scent of lily soap so strong, it felt like engulfing your mother.

Nyela still clung to your back, small eyes—hooded and glaring at Tywin. When he turned to look at you, an amused frown settled upon his forehead as he looked to your hip.

"You're our sister, you stay with us." She grumbles, if her tiny ineffective fists could do anything, she wished she could drag you to your chambers and lock you in.

"I will write to Doran and Oberyn, they will come get you. Alright?" You crouched to meet their eyes, holding on one shoulder each.

Ellia, still pouting, buried her head in your shoulder, nuzzling the motherly warmth she often tried to find in your arms. Your brother walked over, having taken your brother from his nursemaid's arms and walked over to you. The boy, barely over two summers, had not a clue of why his siblings lamented for you. A stranger yesterday and now a stranger today, you held his little fist. Tracing over his face, the feathery touch of your fingers tickling at his skin making him giggle.

"I'd be a stranger to you the next we meet," you cooed as his tiny fist curled around your finger, babbling away at your hair sat by your chest. "You be good."

Your brother Olvyar turned to you next, a brotherly smile curling in his lips and eyes covered in guilt. You knew he felt terrible for stopping you from running, but in truth he was saving you from the cruel wrath of your father's pride—you were not his pride, even with his flesh and blood, you never would be. The one hard bone your father swallowed, even though Olvyar was his brother's seed sired by your mother. He was a son, a young man knighted and proud.

Olvyar for the longest time wanted nothing to do with your father's estate nor Westerlands politics, if he could. He too would have abandoned your father for adventure at sea with Oberyn, however seeing as though the only mere morsel of affection within Loren Maerilys was for him, you'd told him. Standing on your toes and pinching your older brother's teen puffy cheeks.

"You take care of us, you would be the lord of Deep Den." You hissed at him, hoping your brother would see reason beyond his boyish dreams

When you looked into his eyes, your own was looking back at you, just far more grief-stricken as yours were glossy. You opened your mouth, your form of a farewell was to be another lecture to your elder brother. He however chased your word back into your mouth as he opened his.

"I will look after them, and write to you at every turn of the moon." He reiterates, tilting his head just so as he looks down at you. "I will take care of them, I will be the Lord of Deep Den."

You held his arm, sternly nodding at him before pulling him to a half embrace. Squeezing his larger body so tight he had to set little Loren down to reciprocate.

"Don't let them be afraid, Olvyar. Don't let them be alone." You whispered, closing your eyes tight to fight away the tears threatening to fall.

"Never."

"My lady... it is time," Tywin called, standing with his hands clasped in front of him with a coaxing quirk to his brow and a forever stern disposition.

You bowed your head, to use your brother's chest as a shield as you wiped the salted drops away from your lash line before straightening yourself.

Dressed in a comfortable gown, devoid of fastened corsets or itchy gold hems to travel with ease through the eight hours of journey to Clegane Keep and then after a respite another four hours to Casterly Rock—your new home.

You offered not one look to your father as you walked out of the Great Hall holding onto both your sister's hands on either end. Your brother following behind as you were ushered to your carriage, you gave Deep Den one more glance; a superstitious tendency as you called to Mother Rhoyne for protection before taking the footmen's hand as he helped you into the sizable carriage. Reined in by eight horses, the wheelhouse was rather extravagant for such a short journey.

You settled in for a moment, sighing and resting your head against the plush velvet padded walls inside the carriage, your new home— you were married.

Perhaps even your bedding had made it so anxiously apparent on your skin that you no longer belonged to yourself, but to the crimsons and golds of house Lannister, to Tywin—

He had been rather aloof to your presence since the bedding last night, having made you feel so warm, an exasperating pinnacle and making you squeak at the strum of his fingers. Your cheeks burned hot even as you felt the gentle cramp within your claimed environs.  Then this— your handmaiden Odiele found an odd form of compliment when Tywin's cupbearer had approached your lady's maids to inquire of your health.

You took that wholeheartedly as you had prepared yourself to break your fast, and then the waft of cold hit you. Not a word, not a word to you beyond formalities, it is at that moment your mind gave way to further past your bedding and to the ceremony feast. Your Daima Eldrã had told you, men often melt when their frigid minds crawl to their pillar. It was a deal, that was your marriage. You looked to your belly, wondering if a blonde child had already made a home there, waiting to spread within you and have you waddling about all fat and sweaty.

You were sure your mind had raced even harder than the dozen horses shifting in your riding party outside, however, the very man that clung to the crevices of your head peaked through the door of the wheelhouse. Pulling himself in and sitting opposite you, he glanced at you for a mere moment, the glint of questioning in your eyes that called to him. You thought he would ride with his brother. 

"You seem displeased?" Tywin raised his brow, appearing defensive, perhaps irked by your reaction.

"No- I thought you were to ride with Lord Kevan, my lord," you muttered, still finding it hard to meet the steel green of his eyes, the frown perpetually etched onto his forehead often left you dislodged for your firm disposition. He did scare you, you would never let him have the satisfaction of knowing so.

"If that is what you wish, my lady." Tywin shuffled to the edge of his seat. His discontent was apparent, you had displeased him. He is your husband, he is trying, and you are trying.

"No- I, stay..." you stutter holding onto his arm "Please." You blurt out meekly.

He grunts for an answer, turning to the stained window as you shuffle closer to it, waving at your sisters clinging to Olvyar's side as the horses neigh, and the procession moves. The first carriages trot away from the moat bridge, and then your carriage moves. That unsettling dread fills your chest again, regressing you to a child of seven summers being sent as a ward to Dorne to your uncles. You gave up the olive greens of your house to the mustards of Martells and now you gave those up for the crimsons of house Lannister. Shedding skin after skin, no home would truly be yours, first the burden of your father then the responsibility of your uncles and now a child bearer for your husband.

Tywin should have travelled with Kevan, irked at his brother's attempts to find leisure in this match. Kevan had physically hauled his elder brother away from their carriage to yours. So here he sat, within the first hour of the ride. The carriage shielded both bodies from the chilled air outside but made the inside unbearably stifling with tension, you would meet his eyes, freeze and curl your lips to a tight smile before uncomfortably looking away.

A young thing so fierce he had thought, you cowered from within, a small sense of satisfaction within Tywin. Maybe you wouldn't try and strangle him to death at night, or stab him as he coupled with you. A Martell after all, a tinge of distrust was highly warranted of the Old Lion. What worried him even more was taking you to Clegane's Keep. A true test of your loyalty— what loyalty? It had only been two days since your wedding— he could picture a torn sneer over your face. Being made to present your dainty hand to the man who had raped and murdered your dear aunt and Targaryen cousins.

He watched as the rocking of the carriage lulled you to soft slumber, head resting against the cushioned wall. Hugging yourself with your neck cranked to find comfort, pouted mouth breathing puffs for lazed breaths. The terrain of the Gold Road was smooth with nary a bump, yet Tywin came to sit next to you. The uncomfortable crank in your neck ought to make it ache in the morning, your head finding itself on his shoulder as you slept, the thick cloak covering your body as you lift your legs next to you. Resting against your husband.

A tight jostle however startled you to consciousness, your adamant need to still remain ridden by sleep you peeked one eye open, taking a moment to gather your bearings, Tywin's hold on you tightened, making you aware that you were indeed resting against his body. An apologetic frown upon your brows as you made an attempt to shuffle to the other end, his hold remained firm.

"Sleep." He whispered, squeezing your shoulder.

You, by the Mother's grace, remained a bed for the remainder of the journey. A mellow call of your name is what broke you away from your clouded warm dreams of the sea.

The face of your handmaiden however above you as she sat with a cloak in her hands, you grumbled awake, rubbing your eyes with the back of your palm.

The tenuous tugs of sleep still had you curled to the cushioned seat, grumbling as Syaria pulled you up, accustomed to your demands for more sleep she shifts to hold you straight. You scowl at her mothering, hissing as you felt the bitter tug of the hairbrush she ran through your mussed hair to neatly put into a braid.  She slipped the cloak over your shoulders, humming to herself as your body was finally in focus and properly awake.

"Lord Tywin?" You croaked, one last broken yawn breaking through you. Shrugging the gentle ache in your shoulders.

"Out with Lord Kevan." She mused, letting you a satisfied hum before shoving a branch of Meswak for you to chew on.

You had a faint memory of feeling warm, the heavy feel of arms upon you to find your husband's chin resting on your head as he lay awake. You shuffled out of the carriage, the other maids of your horde holding up a sheet of white cloth as you changed behind its security into more appropriate riding clothes. You sat on the foot of the carriage, shooing away the Westerlands maid as she bent down to lace your boots, you were perfectly capable of tying them yourself.

Once ready they pulled away the white curtain as you stood to your height, stretching your arms up in the air to yank at any odd knots within your skin, the carriage had swaddled you in for nearly seven hours from dusk to dawn. The Gold Road was painted orange with the peak of the morning sun, horses neighing away as people changed shifts, a moment of respite and preparations for your arrival at Clegane's Keep.

You walked back five paces, your lovely black mare Nysa sat with her hooves curled in, Eldrã lovingly feeding the sweet thing apples, spoiled girl—

"Might I interrupt for a ride?" You called, Eldrã turned to you smiling, she petted your cheek before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"You rest alright, dæriya?" she asked, concerned but toying at a far greater subject as she with ease switched to her mother tongue of Rhyone. He was with you last night. sweet girl

"Quiet well, daīa." you hummed holding onto Nysa's reins as you pulled yourself onto her.

Fredrick already stood at the ready. If you were to bolt away from the procession, you pointed your head to the edge towards the clearing where you were sure your husband sat with his brother breaking fast.

"Sleep well, Serret?" you asked a spurt of happiness within you, having the people closest to you accompanying you through this new journey.

"Well enough, my lady." He smiled baring his thirty-one perfect teeth, one happened to be chipped.

"Race with me?" you smiled sheepishly, pointing at the edge of the forest.

"I don't think racing at your station is appropriate now." He pressed, he wouldn't deny you. He never could, he never would.

"And if I were to order you, use my station. Would you do it?" A cheeky grin spread through your face, head tilted and mischief coating your features after a moon.

"Then I shall have no choice but to obey, my lady."

"Then we race!"

Nysa took off with the speed of storm winds, your braids whooshing against the wind as you tore through the forest line, the sun already risen, the orange fading and clear blue skies up above. It felt like an exotic delicacy willed into your environs as the fresh air bathed your skin away from the lingering tensions from the night before. You stopped, right at the edge of the forest line. Turning back to find Fredrick five paces behind before he too halted next to you.

You giggle, poking your pink tongue out at him before turning to bask in the scenery, you finally let your thoughts flow as you tarry.

"How am I expected to raise my palm to a man that raped and murdered my aunt," you muse, that sullen heaviness in your heart wet again weighing you down.

"Do you want me to kill him?" He blurted, a jape in all honesty but a blade pierces a man all the same.

You chuckle, shaking your head— a fine prospect, a violent one but one that Oberyn had fantasised over multiple times, Gregor Clegane's head resting at his foot.  You wondered if you stared at his plate of food at lunch, you wondered if The Mountain might fear you of poisoning him. The entirety of your family sat shaking their heads on your shoulder.

You looked around, about a yard away sat your husband by a thoroughly filled table, a black tunic and vest of sable fur with his leg bent and resting over his other. Fine leather boots reaching up his knees, he was watching you from a distance. His arm shot in the air, finger bent to call you over to him.

You sighed, looking at Fredrick before turning Nysa as you trotted over, dreading the conversation you were soon to have.

"My lords." You bowed, barely meeting their eyes. Relishing the sudden warmth against your skin from the lit fire.

"My lady."

"Wife."

Lord Kevan rose from his seat, gesturing for you to replace yourself,  he passed a knowing nod to his brother before leaving.

"Are you cold?" Tywin asked, inspecting the gloves on your fingers and the fur lining of your coat.

"The weather hasn't agreed with just yet I'm afraid," you agree, smiling at him "The Dornish climate is a lot more forgiving." 

All you could do was rub your leather gloves palms together, speak to him, say anything dammit—

"I have employed a governess for you," Tywin began, setting his plate of food "all the way from Oldtown."

"What use would I have for a governess? Our children would have years before they needed one."

Tywin looked surprised for a moment like the mention of possible children tickled at his hoped.

"You were raised Dornish, it is for your own good."

You frowned, toying at the cusp of what he meant.

"What? Being devoid of good societal behaviours, do you think I am unladylike?"

Tywin's lips pressed into a hardline "You are expected to be the Lady of Casterly Rock, now I will not have mockery being made out of my lady wife and by extension me."

"And why do you suspect it is so? It is you who wanted a lady wife with more than half a brain, have your feet turned cold now my lord?" You appeared irked, pushing your weight against the chair you sat on, married for two days and your husband already believed you daft.

"Do you intend on letting Gregor greet you?"

Silence, an arrow right on the mark you stared at him through the lining of your scrunched eyebrows, that heaviness greeting itself once more.

"You will perform your duties, my lady, you wish not to be greeted. I will allow it. However, the matter of the governess is unchanged if you are to raise my sons."

"My lord, the Keep is ready for you." a foot soldier approached.

You sucked in a sharp breath, wishing you had a pendant vial of poison before stepping foot in that establishment. Tywin gave you a stern look once more before helping you into your horse.

The two of you rode to meet the procession, you very valiantly chose to ride in on Nysa, the niceties of lady ship so far behind your mind, and your husband shook his head as he rode in front of you.

The attendants of Clegane's Keep and the one monstrously large man stood amongst the crowd. People revered the blonde image of Tywin atop his white stallion. Their liege lord once in a moon had come to grace them.

Smile, you should smile but instead, your face seemed to have frozen itself to an unimpressed leer, eyeing Gregor with the malicious power of Mother Rhyone, drop dead— drop dead you sick bastard.

Footmens rushed to lay stools by the horse to make your unhorsing more graceful as you huffed off, patting Nysa as she gently neighed before walking to your husband.

The gruff voice of Gregor Clegane echoed, you were wishing a lance through his heart "Welcome to Clegane's Keep, my lord—" he bows his head before turning to you "My lady."

The anticipation burned up as Tywin watched you from his periphery, honour the fool that ruined your family, you lifted your hand and Tywin's chest deflated. A gloved hand turned and presented for the Mountain to bend and lay a kiss upon your palm. A gloved palm, you remained untouched.

"Clegane's Keep is yours."

Tywin turned to Kevan this time, his younger brother who appeared rather amused at your doings. He merely hoped that you would be introduced to Genna soon.

A gloved hand, a leather toy for a dog, deprives him of the honour of greeting you. You never said you'd let him.

Ahhhh first of all, I thank everyone for the support through this odd time of drama. I figured I’d best focus on my writing and thank everyone that reached out to me.

Secondly. I totally wanna make the reader poison Gregor Clegane, I’m just not sure if I wanna do it this early.

Taglist (thank youuuu💐)

@joker640 @wondergal2001

#tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister smut #tywin lannister x oc #tywin imagine #tywin x reader #tywin lannister x you #tywinlannisterxyou #tywin lannister #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones smut #charles dance #gregor clegane #lord Tywin #kevan lannister #house lannister #house martell #lannisters

[jedimaesteryoda]

One by one Arya had chased them down and snatched them up and brought them proudly to Syrio Forel … all but this one, this one-eared black devil of a tomcat. "That's the real king of this castle right there," one of the gold cloaks had told her. "Older than sin and twice as mean. One time, the king was feasting the queen's father, and that black bastard hopped up on the table and snatched a roast quail right out of Lord Tywin's fingers. Robert laughed so hard he like to burst. You stay away from that one, child." -AGOT, Arya III But they were all dead now, even Arya, everyone but her half-brother, Jon. Some nights she heard talk of him, in the taverns and brothels of the Ragman's Harbor. The Black Bastard of the Wall, one man had called him. -ADWD, The Blind Girl

In the Middle Ages, the quail was associated with spring and to catch or have one was to bring good luck and happiness. However, if you lost the quail, it was a bad omen.

Tywin lost the quail to a black cat, in superstition a symbol of bad luck, who was possibly Rhaenys's kitten named for the dragon ridden by the founder of the Targaryen dynasty.

It can be seen as a sign that House Lannister's ambitions will not live to see spring. Their hold on the Iron Throne will not last as another described as "the Black Bastard" who is "the real king of this castle" like the cat will come to take it from them.

It also noted that it is the Stark girl who managed to capture the cat that took the quail, or House Stark effectively has a lock on the royal candidate when Ned took Jon in.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #house targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #red keep #iron throne #house lannister #tywin lannister #lannisters #a game of thrones #arya stark #arya

[silverflameataraxia]

The Lannister's, the Spider, Littlefinger are all searching for Arya, and she's...serving as cupbearer to Lord Tywin.

#a song of ice and fire #a game of thrones #lannisters #lord varys #petyr littlefinger baelish #pro arya stark #tywin lannister #sandor the hound clegane #asoiaf #game of thrones #varys #petyr baelish #arya #sandor clegane #a clash of kings #gotaryastark #littlefinger #arya stark #acok #canonaryastark #george r.r. martin #canonarya #rory mccann #maisie williams