#a lannister always pays their debts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr was created by web developers David Karp and Marco Arment.

#a lannister always pays their debts

doe-drawz · 6 months

Text

A Lannister always Drinks and Knows Things or Something like that

🐺STARKS OF WINTERFELL DRAWING HERE

They are all terrible but I love them all so much, they’re consistently making me laugh.. maybe not Cersei too much in the later seasons but Peak Lannister is season 2 in my opinion so! Here’s some season 2 lannisters! (Except Jaime since I’ll have a new post in the future with Prisoner Jaime ) So! Take Jaime in his goldcloak uniform instead!

600 notes · View notes

ilynpilled · 10 months

Note

Do you think Jaime will have to truly reckon with what he did to Bran, maybe even meet him again someday?

considering we are heading towards an interaction with lsh, the mother of the boy, who also knows of this crime, and is essentially a “monster” that is the product of the crimes of house lannister/by extension jaime, and is ready to judge him and hang him, id say it will come up lol. not to mention that these themes are not exactly absent rn: link, link.

and when it comes to part of what george is exploring with jaime:

an interrogation of the possibility of forgiveness is a prevalent theme in these answers about his arc, and also set up in the text. if that is what he is going for id personally expect more direct addressing of that event especially, though i do not necessarily expect something easy and ‘conclusive’ and unambiguous at all. again, george is posing questions here, not giving clear answers, so i expect that fact being pretty relevant even if there is an eventual interaction too. i personally would like it if he wasnt necessarily forgiven for that by his victim that he brought great harm to, and i like thinking about the difference between forgiveness and understanding, and what it means to not be entitled to forgiveness despite change/atonement/etc, and how that shouldn’t stop reformation. we will see what george will do with it.

#ask #also the ‘a lannister always pays his debts’ is being reframed as atonement in much of his narrative so far #lot of debts to pay and how and why and what are the results etc #also he is currently ofc unaware that bran is still alive #also the whole a good act doesnt wash out the bad or the bad the good #or ‘some say it doesnt matter how a man begins only how he ends’#quoting from memory here so not verbatim but u know which quotes im talking about #like there r a lot of diff perspectives #thoros one feels more relevant to jaime bc its more proximate to his narrative but still

24 notes · View notes

teapartywithmadhatter · 5 months

Text

In which, Aerys accepts Tywin's suggestion, but in the most twisted way, but he shall regret the day he humiliated Tywin Lannister and threatened his children's lives for Lannisters always pay their debts.

“You want your daughter to be Queen? You want to tie our Houses through marriage? I'd promised that to you, hadn't I? Well, now is the time to be fulfilled, we shall have a royal wedding.”

He announced it to everyone.

It should have been a sort of apology from the King for slighting Tywin by making his heir, his golden boy, a Kingsguard, but nobody understood why the King , despite reminding of his novel promise to his old time friend, had a cruel smile on his face or a glint in his eyes. Nor why Lord Tywin Lannister had turned pale and stoned-face by the promise of the King which turns other Lords and their daughters and sisters green with envy.

Meanwhile other noble maidens and ladies are trying to spot Cersei Lannister amongst the occupants, but she is not in sight.

But the realisation dawned upon them with the next words that came out of the King's mouth,

"is it not good, Tywin, to have your longtime friend as your goodson?"

Queen Rhaella dies during her pregnancy, leaving the kingdom with only one Prince for the succession.

Tywin Lannister did not answer, but everyone wondered if it was from the fears of the lives of his children.

#tywin lannister #aerys targaryen #cersei lannister #ff #Aerys x Cersei #fanfic prompt #fanfic #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #Lannisters always pay their debt #future Cersei x Rhaegar

5 notes · View notes

crowsandmurder · 8 months

Text

@oftheconquering liked this post for a Jaime Starter

This time, Jaime Lannister thought that just maybe, he had been banished from her grace's presence. for good. He hadn't known exactly where he was going, either. Casterly Rock was not an option, and he did want to keep the vow to help in the fight against the dead. But, he was not the fighter, that he once was. He could hold his own, sure. But, he felt like he owed the people his loyalty.

As a Lannister, a Lannister always paid their debts. He didn't even feel like a Lannister anymore, most of the Lannister army had been depleted. He was still a night.

Stopping somewhere near Harrenhal, which was a good distance north of King's Landing but still West of Blackwater Bay and Dragonstone, he decided to get some food, and something to drink for him and for his horse. He had been numb since he left King's Landing and now, he just wanted to feel more numb, he supposed.

Sitting down, he muttered to someone, that he heard say Kingslayer, from the corner. Always with the Kingslayer. Speaking to no one in particular, he spoke. "They've spilled more blood than the rest of us combined."

#oftheconquering #✖ [Saera]#✖ [Character: Jaime Lannister]#V: The Lannisters always pay their debts [randomly placed]#I hope this works!#I wasn't assuming she said that about him #it could be someone random

2 notes · View notes

iudiex · 9 months

Text

it is extremely finch-like behavior for me to respond to an answered ask from over a month ago of pantal.one and neu.villette getting handsy at 3:30 AM on a friday night 40 days later. in completely unrelated news. neuvi and pant's ship name is pantalette.

#a lannister always pays their debts or something like that #shout out to my rp partners that put up with my shit #⋅ ♛ ⋅ — › ɴᴏ ʙᴀɢᴜᴇᴛᴛᴇs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛʀᴏᴏᴍ. — ⌜ ooc ⌟

4 notes · View notes

grey-joys · 10 months

Text

Call me Jaime cause I’m feeling a little

#stupid squid thoughts #jaime lannister #game of thrones #asoiaf #house lannister #a lannister always pays his debts #hear me roar

5 notes · View notes

twogyuu · 6 months

Text

pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader (ft. friend!wonwoo)

genre: fluff, implied E2L, reader and wonwoo got some sibling energy going

warnings: profanity. wonwoo is annoyed!

wc: ~1k

a/n: roman empire - dis all u gotta know 🤡

. . . .

"Oh Wonwoo-"

Clack.

The sound of the plastic cup slick with condensation meeting the wooden table, splashing your sheets a little in the process, alerts you from your studies. You look up to find your friend annoyed - a bored, flat expression paints his face as his eyes bore into your skull.

Rather than seeking an answer from Wonwoo, you turned to look at your friend, silently asking why her boyfriend brought you coffee. In a small gesture, she shrugs and nods for you to ask him instead.

You point the tip of your pen towards the Iced Americano with a splash of almond milk and one pump of vanilla syrup sitting in front of you.

"Special delivery from your secret admirer-"

"You?" you cut him off early, rather loudly. "You have a girlfriend!"

"Not me, you dunce!" Wonwoo shoots back. With two fingers he thwacks your forehead. "Jeonghan - Yoon Jeonghan."

This elicits a cough from you out of shock. It takes you aback, stealing the insults you had on your tongue. Now, you only stare down the iced coffee like it's your worst enemy.

Should you drink it? What if he poisoned it?

As if on cue, Wonwoo sticks his hands into his jean pocket and reveals a pastel pink note, crumpled and covered in bits of lint.

"Oh and here," he tosses it in your direction, "I almost forgot to give this to you. I was supposed to stick it to the drink, but you know," he waves at the cup speckled in droplets of water. "Condensation."

There's a moment of hesitation that causes Wonwoo to snort and roll his eyes back. However, this prompts you finally reach for it and unfold the sticky note. Your friend leans over your shoulder to read it with you, or rather for you.

"A Yoon never breaks his promise?" she reads. "That sounds so . . . sinister."

Wonwoo shakes his head and smacks his forehead. "Oh my god - he's terrible."

"W-what?" you look up at Wonwoo, mouth parted like a guppy. On one hand, you're confused that Jeonghan actually went through with his threat. On the other hand, was it a really a threat then?

Dirty towel in hand, facing him, you recall your cheeks feeling hot at his confession. Alas, after all that has happened, you didn't want to accept it. How dare he confess to you like this? Catching you in between waiting tables, sweaty and covered in questionable stains when you were trying to work off your anger from him prior - was this romantic to him at all?

"I'll show you then," Jeonghan declared, tucking his hands into his sweatpant pockets. "If words won't do it, then let me show you just how serious I am about you."

"That's creepy - it's only cute if I like you in return," you shot back.

He smirked and leaned in closer to you, your noses nearly touching. "Oh, but I have a feeling that might just be the case - I just need to put enough pressure for you to crack."

"Do your worst," you muttered, turning away from him.

"You best believe I will."

Oh, he was so fucking evil.

"'A Lannister always pays his debts,'" Wonwoo quotes. "That's what he's referencing - Game of Thrones."

"Jeonghan watches Game of Thrones?" your friend ponders aloud, surprised.

"He doesn't," Wonwoo replies, then points at you. "But she does."

Your friend's hand flies to her mouth.

"Just what did you put in his drink the last time we came to the restaurant?" Wonwoo asks you, cocking a curious eyebrow.

"N-nothing!" you protest.

"Then, why are you stuttering?"

"I don't have perfect speech like some prick I know, okay?" you shove the iced coffee and note in Wonwoo's direction. "You drink it first. I don't trust it."

Wonwoo pushes it back. "I bought it, for your information."

"Why? Why'd you do it for him then?" you grumbled. "You didn't have to."

"Not when I didn't have a choice!" Wonwoo shouts. He shoves his phone in your face. "I've been harassed via text all morning and then physically tracked down, publicly humiliated with him on his knees right after my 8AM, just so I bought you this specific coffee order, which sounds disgusting by the way, and deliver this cliche note to you." Wonwoo shakes his head. "Now you tell me - what's going between you and Jeonghan?"

Hands covering your eyes, you groan. He's not even here and he's giving you a headache. "He's insufferable."

"No . . . " your friend pokes your side, she points at the library entrance and gulps. "I-I really think it's because of something else."

Peering through the window, Jeonghan's jumping and waving like a maniac, the most energetic you've ever seen him. He points at his phone, gesturing for you to answer his call.

"Hello?" you said slowly.

"Did I get it right?" Jeonghan's grinning widely now. "Iced Americano with a splash of oatmilk because you're lactose intolerant, and one pump of vanilla because you don't actually enjoy the bitterness of the espresso."

"That's fucking weird, Jeonghan," you mutter, "How'd you know?"

"Do you remember the day after championship party?" he asks. Your mouth falls agape once more at the memory.

It can't be. He couldn't have? Neither of you were in the right state of mind!

"Enjoy, love," he chuckles softly into the receiver. "I have to head to class and I should let you study - I'll see you around?"

"Yoon Jeonghan-"

"Don't miss me too much."

He clicks the call to an end, flashing you one of his glorious smiles once more before waving and taking off down the hallway.

You turn back to your friends, prepared with a slurry of words to defend yourself. However, Wonwoo beats you to it.

"This is going to be epic."

"No," you protest.

"You guys are so in love and in denial, it's gross."

#seventeen x reader #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #twogyuu:writing

468 notes · View notes

georgescitadel · 9 months

Text

When Jaime and Roose are having dinner at Harrenhal and talking with each other, it’s a key chapter in Roose's decision. At that point, I don't think Roose is completely committed yet. He's trying to decide which side he's gonna come down on, and he's been presented with Jaime, whose hand has been cut off by men who are ostensibly fighting for him, so he's concerned - “Am I gonna be held responsible for maiming Lord Tywin's favorite son? A Lannister always pays his debts!”. Roose is really feeling out Jaime in that scene, there's a lot of careful dialogue in that sequence. There's two men, neither one really saying what they're saying.

- George R.R. Martin, Game Of Thrones DVD

#Jaime Lannister #Roose Bolton #George R.R. Martin #ValyrianScrolls #Game Of Thrones #ASOIAF

240 notes · View notes

queeninthesouth-side · 2 years

Text

also not a request, im writing what i want to read at the moment, it seems! The lowdown: there’s angst, sex and romance, all Lannister style. He growls. You’re welcome. Very reader focussed, but about a third of it is Tywin’s pov. Possessive, protective husband vibes. Again, you’re welcome. He’s Hand to Joffrey (gag) so it’s set post Robert’s death, but canon? We don’t know her. Also, can we agree Genna is the sister in law we all need?

Coming in at a whopping 8,112 words

In Time, the Lion Loves

Tywin Lannister x fem!Reader

It was a purely political marriage, one that occurred a mere fortnight after your meeting Lord Lannister of Casterly Rock in King’s Landing. He had been taciturn and serious bordering on standoffish most of the time. You were embarrassed that your father had all but forced his hand, what with Lannisters paying their debts and all. And saving Jaime Lannister from the Starks and returning him home when Lord Lannister couldn’t? It was a debt large enough to warrant a hopeless, trustless marriage between you and he.

“Let’s retire,” he said from beside you at your wedding feast, an ostentatious event organised by the Boy King Joffrey and his mother. He’d been unexpectedly amicable, in the way lord husbands were supposed to be with their wives. He’d let you sip from his wine goblet and had given you first pick of the plate you both shared. You enjoyed the roast pheasant while he preferred beef.

“Time for the bedding ceremony!” the King announced, face flushed terribly from the wine he’d indulged in, and green eyes sparking with malice. The King had always looked at you as though he might pounce, and tonight of all nights, you had to rein in your fear of him. As soon as men rose and began tugging at your beautiful gown, they stopped.

Lord Lannister had slammed his hand on the table, the boom echoing throughout the hall the feast was being held.

“No man but I shall touch my wife. Get off her,” he growled. The men around you couldn’t flee fast enough. Then neutral green eyes settled on you, readjusting your sleeves that had come down your shoulder some in the tugging and offering you his hand to escort you from the hall.

He poured you more wine once in the Tower of the Hand, but you did not move to drink it. You had let go of your fear of this man in particular, especially as he’d kept you close to him all evening, and had gently seated you beside him at the feast. It could certainly be a ruse, one to make him seem the perfect Lord even in a marriage he had not chosen.

“Stop thinking so much, you’ll make yourself dizzy.”

“I was thinking how much I appreciate your manner, my Lord. It would not have surprised me if you were a cruel man in private, though I am beginning to see there isn’t any needless cruelty in your body.”

He looked at you then, watching as you took a single, gracious sip from your cup, before turning and looking at him too. You were beautiful, this he knew. He was a widower, not blind, and he had appreciated privately any particular woman of exceeding beauty. But he’d always been a jealous and possessive type of man, and you were almost made more beautiful by the fact you were his alone. His wife. He’d need to get used to that again.

“You will bear me sons, and manage the Rock should we return. It would not do to sully our alliance so soon.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“Are you nervous, Lady Wife?”

“No, my Lord. I snuck off to a brothel before we travelled to King’s Landing and had a whore explain to me the truth of a marriage bed.”

Already he felt a flare of possessiveness take him. The thought of you in any brothel made him twitch. Had any men seen you? Had anyone touched you? He found the thought entirely unacceptable, and was sure to say so.

“I knew I’d be married shortly after my arrival here, my Lord. I did not want to be uninformed, and septas take a vow of chastity. How could they give me an objective insight into married relations?”

“While it is an admirable quality to seek out your own answers,” he said, walking over to you and looking down as you sat opposite his desk. “You will not set foot in an establishment like that again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord,” you said, looking up at him with earnest eyes. He liked them, he decided, when they were settled on him.

The first night, he’d answered any questions you’d been left with on how a woman takes pleasure from her husband, and gods, did he give you pleasure. In short order, you’d found yourself looking forward to the hour or so an evening he’d dedicate to getting an heir on you. You were grateful he’d make it an enjoyable experience.

He was long and hard, and you’d taken him two dozen times at least already, and every time he had to let you adjust, lest he hurt you. It was sweet torture for him, feeling you tight around his cock, sighing and humming for him until he’d draw out more sounds.

Your hands, never stilled once he was inside you, gripped at his back, his sides, his neck. Anywhere you could reach, you would touch, but never outside the bedroom. He used to appreciate this, he realised, sinking in all the way and delighting in your gasp. Not having a clingy little wife who lingered about him at all hours.

No, he realised, drawing back then driving forward more firmly. He wanted you to be clingy with him. It was barely a moon into his marriage to you, and he wanted to possess you as much as you seemed to possess him. With this thought, he dedicated himself to your pleasure. He’d make you enjoy his cock beyond anything else, then he’d make you enjoy him.

“My Lord,” you whined as he brushed a spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back and fluttering shut.

Oh yes, the Lion thought, he’d have you in all ways soon enough.

When you’d both agreed to make small appearances around the Keep, Tywin had thought it’d send a clear message that the Lord and Lady Lannister were united despite the tenuous start of your marriage. It did not quite have this affect, to his chagrin.

Men watched you everywhere you went, he realised on these walks. Their eyes would follow your walk, your hair, your face and any words that floated along the wind sweetly. You were splendiferous in red and gold, and he’d spared no expense on your wardrobe. Bedecked in the finest gowns, second to only the Queen, and even then outdoing his daughter to her distaste. He’d made it as clear without words as possible, you were his. And yet, these cads watched his wife as though she were still an eligible heiress and not his lady wife.

Then began the marks.

On your neck, your shoulders, even your wrists, which he delighted in kissing and licking in rare shows of intimacy. He was an odd man, your husband, but he left you to your own devices apart from your new routine of walking and visiting your bed to procure an heir. He’d stop his attentions once you were with child, you knew, but you ignored the twinge of upset the thought caused. He was not your lover, he was your husband, and you lived in a world where they were not one and the same.

The marks were bothersome, especially if he hadn’t kept to below your collarbones, as you’d told him to. He rather seemed pleased with himself when a bruise was left by your ear or your throat. You’d learned all sorts of hairstyles to cover them, styles that seemed to draw the eyes of others, but none moreso than the Master of Coin.

Petyr “Littlefinger” Baelish was not a man you’d heard of before your arrival at the capitol, but he’d made himself known to you at your wedding, and seemingly every other day since. He’d appeared sympathetic at first to your marriage, though when he saw your irritation at the perceived pity, he’d taken another approach. Whispering words of the deeds your Lord Husband had done to carry on his legacy. The details disturbed you of course, but you were not so foolish to think Baelish would tell you anything of the truth, only what he wanted you to know. Ignoring him was easy, but his presence made you uncomfortable, try as you might to hide it.

“My Lady,” he smirked at you. Sat at a bench in the leafy shade, enjoying the weather and a good book, you greeted him politely but made no move to stand or invite him to sit. He cleared his throat at the ensuing silence. “I had hoped you might walk with me around the gardens, my lady?”

Closing your book, you stood and began making your turn about the aisles of flowers and crawling vines. He walked beside you looking at you out his periphery. You’d mastered the art of looking around a room without moving your eyes, so his attention was far less overt than he’d hoped.

“And what did you wish to speak to me about, Master of Coin?” You felt an odd yearning for your husband then. Surely the sly little man would leave you be if your hulk of a husband were near.

“Have you travelled to Dorne before, my lady?”

The question sent a chill through you. The man was up to no good, you were sure, but your husband would surely not desire to hear your concerns over the, as far, polite attentions of a member on the Small Council.

“I have not, my lord. I don’t much fancy such arid temperatures, so I cannot say I have a desire to visit anyhow. Have you?” you asked to keep your polite façade.

“I have, my lady. It’s a beautiful, if arid as you say, land. I’ve many friends there, and a home of my own, too, for when business takes me that side of the world.”

“If you only wished to inquire about my travels, Master of Coin, I shall bid you farewell.” In a move so fast you hardly realised it’d happened, Baelish had placed your hand over his arm. Coincidentally, your Lord Husband happened upon you both that instant. You pulled your hand from him with a delicate frown and took a step away.

“Baelish,” your husband gritted, eyes glittering with danger. For you or Baelish, you weren’t quite sure. Almost certainly both.

“Lord Hand. I shall leave you to your strolling, my lady. Good day.” And then he was gone.

“You are not to walk about the Keep unattended, wife,” Tywin says lowly.

“Yes, my lord,” you reply softly, turning to return to the Keep proper.

That night, your lord husband drew peak after peak from your body, relentless until you were practically unconscious from the pleasure. You’re mine, he’d said over and over as he drove into you. And he did not stop touching you. Your hair, your face, your lips especially. He seemed to kiss the breath out of you, stopping only when he’d finished a second time, and you could barely speak.

You’d woken the next morning alone, as you always did. Your husband would only share your bed for the act of siring an heir, and would always be gone by the time you woke. It didn’t bother you, you told yourself as you woke cold and sore. It was perfectly expectable for a husband to act this way. And you would do your duty, as you’d been taught to, so it hardly mattered if he was there when you woke. He didn’t need to be next to you in the morning to get a child on you, so why would he? It was this cold logic that helped you through your bath and preparations for the day.

===

Two moons later, and your husband had not refrained from exhausting you thoroughly every night. He stayed a little longer, waiting for you to be asleep before he would make his exit, and sometimes you swore you could feel his fingers caressing whatever body part was exposed to him. Though it was surely the musings of a well-sated, completely exhausted woman.

The Master of Coin’s attentions had not faded either, though this made you less than pleased. It was hard to desire leaving the Tower without your husband, knowing Baelish would find you inevitably. He had gotten into the habit of placing your hand on his arm when he could get away with it, which was often as he avoided your husband at all costs. There was no love lost between Littlefinger and the Great Lion.

“Your husband is making a three day expedition to the surrounding towns. Something the Hand does every year or so.”

“Yes, he’s mentioned it. He’s made arrangements accordingly.”

“You must be excited to see more of King’s Landing, my lady.”

“I have requested to stay behind,” you say offhandedly. You were hoping to gauge his intentions by telling him this. The look of determination, and something much like scheming, settled in his eyes. It frightened you.

With the desire to be away from this man and near to your husband, you bid the Master of Coin farewell and walked away before he could follow.

Entering the Tower and seeing your husband hard at work at his desk brought you a feeling of peace you did not realise he gave you.

“Wife,” he said simply.

“My Lord,” you always replied. There was a settee by the window, and in the time you’d been married to Tywin you’d never seen him sit there. You walked to his bookshelf, grabbed whatever spine took your interest and sat at the settee to read. Your husband made no comment, so you did not move.

A couple hours of silence followed, you reading about agricultural infrastructure and him responding to raven after raven.

“You’re disturbed,” he says suddenly.

“I grew weary of people watching me.” It was not quite a lie, but again, how could you be honest that you were hiding from the Master of Coin? That you thought he was up to something? That and how quickly you tired these days. Being married was exhausting, especially when your husband could not seem to get enough of your attentions at night.

“I leave on the morrow for the Tour of the Hand. I had summoned my sister to come for a few weeks to the capitol and she arrived today, but is resting. Mostly to get her away from that miserable husband of hers,” he added. He’d been doing that over the last few weeks, adding details that he usually wouldn’t if you were anyone else. It felt like a token, of what you couldn’t say, but something from him to you regardless.

Your anxiety got in the way of any warmth. Without Tywin, Baelish would have no deterrent to keep him from approaching you, even calling on you in your chambers if he was bold. Having Genna Lannister (never Genna Frey) would perhaps be a hindrance rather than a help. You didn’t know the woman, and the only other Lannister woman in the capitol made no efforts to get to know you.

“I shall look forward to meeting her, my Lord.” He hummed and that was that.

Later that night, after dinner, your husband summoned you to his chambers. Usually he’d cross the dividing parlour between your rooms and bed you there, but he obviously couldn’t be bothered to make the journey, you thought.

He was undressing you as he made sure to do every night, never letting you do it yourself. You undressed him, he’d instructed you on your wedding night, and he would undress you. It was only when you were splayed across his bed, hair unbound and laid across the pillows when his eyes darted to your midsection.

Palming your lower abdomen, and seemingly finding what he was looking for, he said, “You are carrying my babe in your belly, wife.”

The words brought dread. Would he stop his attentions? You hadn’t realised how much you liked them until they might be taken away. But then his words actually sunk in. A baby. There was a babe in your belly, your own, and in some moons it’d be in your arms, gods willing.

Tywin watched as you smiled small at first, then sat up and felt where his hand cupped the slight swell. He saw a true smile from you, one bright and warm as the fire in his chambers that crackled merrily. Tywin felt annoyed that he would have to leave you come morn, especially now that the next lion of Casterly Rock was in your belly. And quietly, perhaps he enjoyed the way you sat with him, and wanted more of the same.

Feeling pride at making his wife smile, and that he’d gotten a babe in her so quickly after their marriage, he kissed you breathless until you pulled away for air. It didn’t stop him from trailing kisses across your neck and collarbones, down to your breasts, which were heaving by now. He couldn’t wait to see them swell in the coming moons.

You thought he would stop there, return to you and get on with it, but he moved lower and lower, until he was staring into your most private place. It was embarrassing for a few moments, until he leaned forward and began kissing you there too. It was overwhelming. So perfect, making you writhe and pant. You never begged, but if he toyed with you like this long enough, you were sure you would.

“You’ve done well, wife. Allow me to reward you,” he purred before his tongue went inside. This, you decided, was well worth it to have waited for. In no time at all the sounds of him kissing you there overtook the fire and even your own deep, heavy breaths were drowned out. “One lion stronger, soon to be two,” he said as you peaked over his lips and tongue.

===

You woke a little after you’d both fallen asleep, tired and sated and, dare you think, happy at the prospect of the babe. It took you a moment to realise you weren’t in your own rooms, and that this was the first time you were waking up beside your husband.

He was laid out on his back, long legs nearly stretching the entire length of enormous bed, one of his arms bent underneath his pillow, and one stretched to rest under your pillow. You only allowed yourself a moment to admire him before quietly getting out of bed, collecting your clothes and moving like a ghost to your own rooms. It was hardly an hour past midnight, and you felt so tired all the time (from the babe you now realised) that all you wanted was to sleep.

Tywin woke an hour before dawn to an empty bed, and this infuriated him somehow. To be left while he slept made him feel as though you’d taken your pleasure and gone away from him. The only thought that stopped him from barging into your rooms was how that’s exactly what he did to you every night but the one you’d just shared.

Getting up from bed and throwing on a dressing gown to cover his nudity he marched directly to your rooms, finding you curled up by the edge of the bed, as though leaving a space for someone else. This appeased him in a way he couldn’t ascertain, but he needn’t linger. It was early still, and he didn’t need to be up and out of the Tower until after breakfast in a rare change of schedule.

He approached your sleeping form and gently manoeuvred you so he could scoop you up. You hummed, then frowned and blinked an eye open.

“M’Lord?” you mumbled.

“Hush,” he soothed, using the voice he’d found you reacted particularly well to. “I woke to find my wife missing from my bed,” he explained softly. “I am simply rectifying the issue.”

“Didn’t think you wanted me to stay,” you sighed, shutting your eyes and allowing him to grip you behind the knees and scoop you by your shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you said, and Tywin was distracted by how sweet and docile you were when sleepy.

“Hush, I said,” he murmured by your temple. You curled closer to him at that, and his chest rumbled in satisfaction. “From now on, you stay in my bed.”

“With you?”

“Yes,” he said, eyes softening, though you’d never know with your eyes shut. “With me.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Tywin, he wanted to say. Call me Tywin, anything but that. He did not. He was asleep again in moments now that you were back in his chambers, and you’d been asleep again before he set you in the centre of the bed.

When you woke, your husband was still in bed with you, an arm wrapped round your waist, hand splayed over your slight swelling. When he woke a few minutes after you, your husband tightened his hold and pulled you closer. This was new, you thought. But delightful. You realised more and more how pleased you were that you married such a fine man, even if you’d never share a love or more intimacy than expected of you in public. This was enough, you told yourself. It had to be.

You both laid together for a while, and during that time you wondered if your husband would truly listen to you if you mentioned Baelish. But then he rose to dress in time for a midday departure, and you decided the moment had past. You would be able to handle Baelish. You were a lion now.

Genna Lannister was already sat at the breakfast table, and you almost did a double take. Where Tywin was sleek apparel and minimal embellishments, Genna was the opposite. She wore a scarlet gown that accentuated her plump figure, gold dripping from her ears and throat and wrists, and hair done so elaborately you wondered how long she’d been awake to have managed such a style. And she was vivacious as they came.

You enjoyed her immediately.

“Sister!” she announced at your arrival, standing and coming to greet you as though you were long time friends. It didn’t feel predatory the way Baelish or the Queen could be, so you smiled and greeted her the same way.

“No greeting to your Lord Brother?” Tywin grouched.

“Oh, are you here as well, Tywin?” Genna teased. He huffed and pulled out your chair, assisting you into it before seating himself and glaring at his sister to do the same so they may eat.

“And how is my big brother, then?”

“You’re only being tame because you think I have a secret.”

“On the contrary, brother, I know you have a secret, and even better than that, I already know what it is.” She turned to face you and smiled truly at you. “Congratulations, sister,” she said sweetly. “And you! What a greedy lion you must be to get a child on her so fast!”

“Genna,” he warned, seeing your embarrassed flush. The blonde only laughed and waved him away. And Tywin let her! What a marvel this woman, her sister, was turning out to be.

“Oh, quit your growling and eat your porridge, brother.” And Tywin did just that.

It was a lively breakfast that came to an end when Tywin excused himself to prepare for his departure. You curtsied when he bowed to you both before taking his leave.

“Tell me, my dear, have you thought of names?”

“I only discovered last night I was withchild, and it was even my husband who’d figured it out. Do you have suggestions?”

“Genna for a girl,” she joked. “Tyton is a strong name. Perhaps Tywin will like it, too.” You agreed, and you did like Tyton. It was a strong name.

Genna, after a tour of the Tower, insisted on a walk around the gardens before seeing Tywin off. Baelish did not appear, to your relief, but his absence was almost as worrying. He was up to something you could tell, but what? Maybe you could confide in Genna?

In the end, you saw off your husband as a good wife should, not even having to pretend very much that you were sad to see him go. The Queen hadn’t paid an inch of attention to you besides a look of distaste after she greeted her Lady Aunt. And then it was back inside for you and Genna to read, then eat and retire.

The next day, you realised that yes, you missed your husband. Already you were wishing the three days would end so he could be by your side again. Your anxiety about Baelish had only worsened since you’d found you were having a babe, and Tywin had suggest you both wait to see the maester until after he returned. The news would spread fast that the Lady Lannister was withchild, and Tywin had said he didn’t want to be far when that happened, in case of anything. You’d wanted to lean up and kiss him when he said that, but you refrained, certain he’d shoo you away.

“My dear, you look exhausted. Come, we’ll prepare for bed then retire.”

You nodded to Genna, who had doted on you in a rather maternal way since her arrival. She’d helped you to undress, then into your nightgown and bed, wishing you sweet dreams before going to her own chambers on the level below.

It was dark when you were disturbed by something. The fire had died down (no one but Tywin could make a fire that would last the whole night) and the room was pitch black. You turned to sleep again when something foul smelling fell over you mouth and nose. You struggled against the stranger’s hand, trying not to breathe in whatever was soaked into the cloth. To your horror, your body was relaxing, your mind losing consciousness. Your last coherent thought was a desperate yearning for Tywin.

===

Genna woke and dressed, her handmaiden well versed in her hair enough to do it all in half an hour, and was sitting at the breakfast table waiting for you. When half an hour past and she heard no movement from yours and her brother’s chambers, she made her way to them herself. If the maids were too incompetent to wake you then she’d do it herself.

Upon entering the room, she stopped short. You were not in bed, and there were no maids fluttering about as they would if you were bathing. Genna had learned to trust her intuition and felt something was deeply wrong, especially as the bed looked as though you’d had a restless sleep. She wanted to believe you were just up early and perhaps strolling the gardens, but Genna knew that wasn’t the case.

She called for the guards, and told them to gather as many Lannister men as they could to search the Keep for the Lady Lannister. She hoped beyond hope she was wrong, but she so rarely was.

===

You woke to darkness and the gentle sway of a ship sailing, and thought yourself dreaming before you jolted upright. You were in a cabin on a ship, that much was obvious. What wasn’t, was why you were there, who’d taken you and where you were going. Dread settled in your gut. Would your husband find out? A silly question. He possibly already knew. What you were frightened to consider was that he might think you’d run away. Your heart gave a fierce pang of longing for your husband yet again, and then steely resolve filled you. There was a desk in the room you were in, one obviously well used, if the stacks of papers, inkwell and sacks of coins were any indication.

You stood, saw a dress laid out on the bed, one of dark blue decorated with swirls in a pattern you knew Baelish to favour. You should have said something, you thought bitingly. You should have gone with your husband. Then you’d be exhausted but safe, and with him.

You dressed in the gown quickly, fearing someone would come in as you were underdressed. The gown had pockets, as was custom in southern dresses now that the Queen had made it so. A plan was forming in your head about what to do, and with the nimbleness of a mouse and the resolve of a lionness, you grabbed the smallest coin pouch, checked to see it had golden stags, then bound the pouch tight as you could to avoid clinking, pocketed it, then sat on the bed and waited.

Baelish came in after a time, not that you were surprised, but you had a part to play now, and you’d need to be convincing. Your life and your babe’s counted on it.

“Lord Baelish?”

“Hello, my dear.”

“My Lord, what has happened? Did my husband send for you?”

“Your husband,” Baelish began, walking to sit beside you on the bed. It was a violation of etiquette, though you didn’t show any discomfort. “Will no longer be an issue.”

Your heart almost stopped, but then you reasoned even Petyr Baelish could not kill your husband. Tywin was too well-protected and too intelligent to be caught off guard as you had.

“He has sent me away?” you asked, playing the distraught little wife.

Baelish made to speak, to deny your words, you knew. Then he paused, and you saw that he considered you believing this the favourable option.

“He did, my Lady. He had men retrieve you from your bed, but my own intercepted them and brought you aboard my ship. I intended to offer you a spot anyway, to come with me to the Vale where my betrothed awaits us.”

You allowed a faux tear to fall, and your head to droop down to your chest.

“He isn’t fond of me,” you admitted quietly. You weren’t sure it was a lie, so it was easy to say so.

“He neglects you, my Lady. You are such a treasure,” he said, the obvious lust making your stomach roll. You only managed to nod. “We’ll be docking soon, my Lady. I sent another ship to Dorne and we will be docking nearby to the capitol to avoid suspicion. Why would we be so close when there’s a ship making to across the sea?”

“Very clever, my Lord,” you said softly. He smirked at you then brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, you blushed and turned away, and it was enough to deter him from pushing for more. You felt sick that he was touching you, feeling as though you were somehow being unfaithful to your husband. You couldn’t let on that you thought this, so you didn’t.

You waited until you heard Baelish disembarking the ship with great fanfare, stating something about needing to settle some business in the port town you were docked at. It was very late at night, you couldn’t have been sailing for more than three or so hours, but regardless, it was many days walk and at least a day’s ride by horse to return to the capitol. You found a cloak and some old breeches and tunics in a closet, boots that were too big, so you stuffed some cloth under and around your foot. It made you a few inches taller, more convincing in your disguise as a sailor. You pinned your hair back with whatever you could find and slipped out of the cabin to find a guard slumped over in sleep outside your door. You hadn’t known he was there, but by the grace of the Mother, you had a chance.

You walked off the ship in no particular hurry to avoid suspicion, then made your way to the nearest stable you could see, banging on the door until someone answered.

“What d’ya want,” a grisly looking man groused once he opened the door. You placed the coin pouch in his hands.

“Give me your best horse, saddle it immediately and the coin is yours.” He nodded, looking at you strangely before doing as you asked.

“I dunno who yer runnin’ from, girl, but ye better be fast. An’ ‘ere,” he said handing you a pouch of what you discovered to be bread and some apples. “Some for ye, and some for the stallion,” he explained.

“I thank you,” you said quietly.

“Go on now. Sun’s comin’ soon.” And off you rode.

It was in the heat of the midday sun you began to feel poorly. Your legs were sore and chafing, your hips aching, and you hadn’t dared stop to rest or eat lest Baelish discover you. You wouldn’t rest until you were back with your husband, this you vowed.

===

“A raven, milord, from your Lady Sister,” the squire said as Tywin retired to his tent. By the morrow, he’d be back in his own chambers with his wife, and able to be rid of the grime that always managed to build up on the road.

He sat first, poured some wine, and took a long sip before unrolling the parchment and reading the note.

“Prepare my horse!” he roared moments after having read the note a third time. Men sprang into action, some packing his tent and others preparing to depart with their Liege Lord. Within minutes he was riding hard into the night and back to King’s Landing.

His wife had waited for him to be gone then she’d stolen away in the night with his babe inside her. He was furious, and he rode like it. How dare she, he thought. You had tried to make a fool of him and no one fooled the Great Lion and got away with it. Beyond his anger, he realised his chest was tight. She’d left, was all he could think. And he’d fancied himself to be growing fond of her. What a fool.

“I want a patrol to set out immediately,” he said to yet another squire as he marched into the Red Keep. “Find my runaway bride and bring her to me unharmed.”

“Yes, milord!” And away the boy went.

Genna was pacing in his study when he arrived, a worried look on her face she only wore for her family (minus her husband), then regarded him intensely.

“She did not run, Tywin.”

“She did,” he gritted out.

“She didn’t. She fretted the entire day you left, asked me about a dozen times where I thought you might be as the day passed. She did not leave, brother.”

And loathe as he was to admit it, his sister was far more perceptive than she had any right to be. If she believed his wife had not run from him, then he would try to believe the same. His anger immediately turned to angst.

“Then she was taken, and is likely gone to me forever if she is not found in the next days.” His voice was low, growlish, and Gemma saw right through it.

“She’s a smart little thing, Tywin, and we have some leads already. Have hope, brother.”

“She is carrying my babe,” he said, though his sister knew him too well not to know what he truly meant.

“She is your wife, brother, and she at least takes her vows seriously. She would not betray you like this, and I happen to think she will try everything in her power to come back.”

Tywin realised she could very well be dead already. How apt of the gods, to thrust a wife upon him he had no want for, then to take her from him when he did.

“I’ll kill whoever did this,” he said quietly. He felt his sister’s hand on his shoulder and clenched his fists. He wished for his wife in that moment, their easy silences and the way she seemed to seek him out just to be near to him. “And I’ll never let her leave my sight again.”

===

There was a point where even your horse refused to go farther, and you had to agree. It was nearing nightfall, and you were exhausted. Your whole body ached, and you thanked the gods you weren’t heavier withchild or riding wouldn’t have been an option.

You settled for the night, ate the bread the stable hand had packed you and fed all but one apple to your horse, who munched happily on them then the grass, then promptly went to sleep near you. It was a sweet horse, and didn’t mind when you laid next to it, leaning your tired body on its side.

You slept for hardly a few hours before dreams of Baelish catching you and Tywin truly having sent those men woke you. Rousing the horse, who seemed grumpy at being woken, you re-saddled him and began a lighter pace. You had already begun to recognise your surroundings, and made haste again towards the capitol. When you crested a hill and saw the top of the Red Keep in the distance, you burst into tears of relief and pushed your horse to ride on. He seemed to understand your anxiety to be home, and did as you bade him. You patted his neck the entire way through the sleepy King’s Landing, and all the way to the King’s Gate.

“Who goes there,” the gate master called out at your arrival. Your must’ve looked like a commoner with your drab coat and less than quality clothes. They probably thought you stole the horse.

Pulling back your hood, you revealed your face, unpinned your hair and announced yourself.

“I am Lady Lannister,” you said, and heard murmuring follow. A guard came down to you, shone a torch in your face and upon recognising you, he called for the gates to open and for someone to retrieve the Hand.

They escorted you up to the Palace steps, and assured you they’d take care of your horse, before a servant came to take you to your chambers. You could hardly walk, so sore from the saddle, and exhausted beyond belief. You were nearly at the Tower when a commotion caught your attention.

Ahead of you, you saw your husband. He was still dressed from the day and did not look to have slept, despite it being nearly dawn. He laid his eyes on you, and both of you sprang to go to the other.

Your legs protested the pace, but you hurried down the hall to him. In several long strides he reached you and pulled you to his chest, arms locking around you tight. You cried again, clutching the lapels on his doublet.

“Hush, wife,” he said, though you cried harder at his voice. He picked you up into his arms, told the guards to stand by the door on rotation, then took you inside the Tower.

You had cried all through him undressing you, and himself, all through the bath he’d ordered be delivered, and all through him washing your sore, bruised and chafed body. Only when you were back in your bed did you finally settle enough to speak.

“I didn’t run from you, I swear it, I swear it,” you repeated to him, begging him without words to believe you. He caressed your body from hip to shoulder, holding you tight.

“I know you didn’t, wife, though I had initially assumed that to be the case,” he said as though it shamed him to have thought that.

“Baelish,” you gasped. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think— I didn’t think you’d believe me, but I should’ve said, I should’ve gone with you,” you explained, though you didn’t really explain much at all.

“Baelish took you?” he growled, arms tightening around you. You nodded.

“He had two ships, one to Dorne and one to the Vale. We docked in the night to not look suspicious, and I found clothes and stole a pouch of coin, slipped off the ship and bought a horse. I rode all the way here, I hardly stopped.”

Tywin would be the one to kill Baelish, he decided. For making his wife afraid, for taking her from him and for putting his babe in potential danger. He would make it slow as possible without being outright torture if he could manage, though the idea certainly had merit.

“I was so frightened,” you admitted quietly, looking up from your husband’s chest to peer at him in the eyes. “Scared he’d get me all the way to the Vale, and then I’d never be able to get away. Scared he’d know about the babe and— and give me something to kill it,” you said voice cracking. You lifted a palm to his cheek, the first time you’d ever reached for him outside of marital duties. He leaned into your palm, eyes fixed on you. “I was so scared I’d never be able to see you again, my Lord.”

“Tywin,” he said, desperate, though you couldn’t tell it was that. “You call me Tywin.”

“Tywin,” you breathed, and then his mouth was on you. He called you wife, he called you lady, he called your name, all with ‘my’ attached. He did not leave you as you drifted into an exhausted sleep, nor as you rested. Not for anything. His grandson could summon him and he’d tell him to talk a walk off a balcony railing. He would not let you go, not ever again.

“I’m here,” you whispered in your slumber, arms equally tight around him. “I’m here, Tywin.”

He kissed your hairline, smelling the soaps he’d used to wash you, the ones you always smelled of. He couldn’t believe someone had dared to steal you from him, to take his lady wife.

“I thought you might’ve been…” he could not finish the thought. It would make him think of the familiar grief he carried with him every day, the one of a man who’d lost his wife. He could not compete with gods and nature, but he could certainly compete with Baelish.

“It would need more than a mockingbird to defeat a lionness,” you purred. His worry for you had made you feel needy, and you knew he hated neediness.

“You will not leave me,” he commanded, and your heart gave way to the affection you held off for so long.

“Never,” you agreed. “And if I go anywhere, I’ll take you with me,” you said, kissing him firmly, your fist time initiating such an embrace. He gave into you immediately, ravishing your mouth and neck and chest with those marks he was so fond of, and truly, you were fond of them too. Maybe you’d even be daring enough to leave your own.

He made love to you that morning, as the birds sang so did you, though to Tywin, your song was much sweeter.

It was some weeks before your husband brought up your kidnapping again. He had been fiercely protective since your return to him, and there wasn’t a moment you were unguarded. There was no Baelish in the capitol anymore, so you felt at ease enough to return to the gardens as you used to, though now you had Genna for company, who was doting and funny, and kept your spirits high through the stress of the recent moon.

You were declared in perfect health despite the bruising and chafing by a maester Tywin trusted. You thanked the gods every day since your return for keeping your babe safe through the turmoil.

“My dear,” Genna said, pulling you from your daydreaming. “Have you thought it might be twins?”

That night, you asked Tywin if he agreed with his sister, and after careful consideration, he agreed you were larger than usual for so early on. His eyes darkened, and he pulled you to bed within moments.

Your husband, you’d learned in the recent weeks, was needier than he let on. Always wanting to touch, always wanting to kiss your sweet mouth when privacy allowed it, and gods, did his desire for you become plain as the sun in the sky. He could not get enough of you, how your hips were widening and your breasts were swelling, how your stomach had begun to protrude noticeably. He was prideful as a lion, especially with evidence of his virility in the form of his beautiful wife carrying his babe.

On a day where you wanted nothing more than to nap and read in your husband’s solar while he worked, there was finally news of Baelish. His ships had been sacked by the Greyjoys, and he’d been held prisoner there for a sennight. Tywin allowed you to see his correspondence thereafter with the Greyjoys, and you nearly baulked at the sum of money he’d offered for Baelish, alive.

And, as in most things, Tywin got his way, and Baelish was delivered to the capitol in chains. He certainly looked worse for wear, and you privately found satisfaction in that.

Baelish had demanded a trial by combat, and a knight well known in Dorne had stepped forward to be his fighter. Tywin had wanted to fight himself, but as Hand to the King, he resided as a judge on the case and was not permitted. His son, Jaime, had volunteered to fight on, technically, your behalf, though he was officially representing the Hand.

Jaime arrived to the fight in Lannister gold and red, declared he fought as the son of the Great Lion, and would fight for his Liege Lady. He nodded to you in the Dragon Pit, where the fight was to take place, and you nodded back in appreciation of the message. Even the Queen, who had mellowed around you some with your pregnancy and her aunt’s intervention, had nodded approvingly.

The fight was far shorter than any would’ve expected, the Dornish fighter far more flashy than skilled. He was no match for Jaime, who was considered one of the greatest knights in history.

Baelish’s head hung low as his champion yielded, and Tywin had insisted he be executed then and there. You watched as your husband swung the sword himself, and forced yourself to witness Baelish’s head fall from his shoulders.

Later, when you were finished being sick, Tywin scolded you.

“You needn’t do things like that, watching something so violent. I should have had you escorted back to our chambers.”

You graciously took his hand as he led you to bed after you’d rinsed your mouth and chewed some mint leaves.

“I would not have agreed to be away from you,” you said simply, watching Tywin’s frown deepen and his chest simultaneously puff at your desire to always be by his side.

You’d grown bolder in your affections for him slowly everyday since your return. You touched him all the time now, and he revelled in it.

“Lay with me,” you requested sweetly, patting his side of the bed. Your stomach was certainly too large for a single babe, and sleeping had already become difficult for you, only made easier with your husband’s arms around you. It was inconvenient, but he would sooner bring his work to bed than give you reason to shy from him again.

“And how are my little lions,” he said as he reclined and cradled your belly in his palm.

“They’re— oh!” You exclaimed, reaching for your belly, a frown furrowing your brow.

“What is it?” he asked at once, dread taking him. But you smiled suddenly, grabbed his hand and pressed it firmly to the other side. He was about to call for a maester when he felt the fluttering kicks of his children (he was convinced there were three, though you vehemently hoped not).

“They’re saying hello to their papa,” you sighed as he began massaging your bump, as though playing with the babes inside.

He moved lower on the bed, pressed his mouth to your skin and hummed. You laughed as the babes wriggled inside you, the feeling odd and bordering on uncomfortable, but to see this man, your husband, so gentle with you and with children that did not yet quite exist, your heart felt fuller than ever.

“Tywin,” you called, prompting him to look up at you. “You are dearer to me than any other, my lion.”

Your husband smiled and crawled back up to your lips to kiss them. He did not say anything back, but he made the most gentle love to you, whispering your name and how lovely you were, how good a mother you’d be to his babes. By the time you peaked, tears had been streaming down your face, wiped away each time by the gentle hand of your man.

#tywin x reader #tywin lannister x reader #got x reader #game of thrones #tywin lannister #genna lannister

2K notes · View notes

crowsandmurder · 8 months

Text

Ser Jaime Lannister

Jaime ✖ (Aesthetics)

Jaime ✖ (Thoughts)

Jaime ✖ (Character Development)

Jaime ✖ (Crack)

Jaime ✖ (Headcanons)

Jaime ✖ (Photos)

Jaime ✖ (Starter Call)

Jaime ✖ (Verses)

VERSES:

K N I G H T E D

Knighted at a young age, Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock quickly became one of the best Knights in the 7 kingdoms. He was knighted by the age of 16, and enjoyed being a Knight, building on his skills more and more, all the time. He wanted to join the Kingsguard, at his sister's urging, so he could stay in King's Landing. Since his youth, he'd been in a relationship with his twin sister, Cersei. He also was the only one in his family that was nice to his brother, Tyrion. But, his father did not like this plan and broke off Cersei's betrothal to King Rhaegar Targaryen and took her back to Casterly Rock.

H A N D O F T H E K I N G

Jaime was named to the Kingsguard and named hand of the King, by Aerys Targaryen II, as he became the youngest to do both. At the height of Robert's Rebellion, Tywin and the Lannister army came back and swore they were back to support them, but Jaime knew his father better than that. It didn't take long for them to attack, and when Jaime realized what the King was up to, and the fact that the pyromancer had helped him, he felt he had no choice but to kill them both, to keep them from killing everyone.

K I N G S L A Y E R

That act would get Jaime Lannister the name 'Oathbreaker' and 'Kingslayer'. He never told anyone at the time the truth about the 'Mad King', and was annoyed by the word, 'Kingslayer,' but Robert Baratheon pardoned him, as well as marrying Cersei. Jaime was able to stay working in the Kingsguard. Cersei had three children: Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella, all of which are unknowingly fathered by Jaime, unbeknownst to Robert.

LORD COMMANDER

When Robert dies and Joffrey becomes King, Jaime becomes Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. He served under both Joffrey and Tommen, but ultimately left King's Landing, after problems with the Faith Militant.

THE LANNISTERS ALWAYS PAY THEIR DEBTS

Jaime had many journeys back and forth to King's Landing, leading the Lannister army, fighting against the dead and ultimately, going back to King's Landing, in the end.

FACECLAIMS:

Nikolaj Coster-Waldau

BIOGRAPHY:

Jaime's Book of Brothers Entry:

Jaime squired for Barristan Selmy against the Kingswood Outlaws. Knighted and named to the Kingsguard in his sixteenth year for valor in the field: At the Sack of King's Landing murdered his king, Aerys the second, at the foot of the Iron Throne:Pardoned by King Robert Baratheon; Thereafter known as the Kingslayer. After the murder of King Joffrey I by Tyrion Lannister served under King Tommen I. Captured in the field at the Whispering Wood: Set free by Lady Catelyn Stark in return for an oath to find and guard her two daughters. Lost his hand. Took Riverrun from the Tully rebels, without loss of life. Lured the Unsullied into attacking Casterly Rock, sacrificing his childhood home in service to a greater strategy. Outwitted the Targaryen forces to seize Highgarden. Fought at the Battle of the Goldroad bravely, narrowly escaping death by dragonfire. Pledged himself to the forces of men and rode north to join them at Winterfell, alone. Faced the Army of the Dead, and defended the castle against impossible odds until the defeat of the Night King. Escaped imprisonment and rode south in an attempt to save the capital from destruction. Died protecting his queen.

More about Jaime:

That's what the Book of Brothers says about Jaime Lannister, anyway. But, he was never fond of writing about h is own exploits, despite the arrogant demeanor, that he displayed much of his life. He is the oldest son of Tywin and Joanna Lannister, twin brother pf Cersei and older brother to Tyrion. He is from House Lannister of Casterly Rock, has been a knight, since he was 16. Despite the fact that his sister and father shun his brother, he is extremely close to his brother, always seeing him as an equal. His relationship with his sister is by far, the most complex in his life. They have always been an extension of each other, came into the world together and he agrees with her, that they will leave it. They began an incestuous relationship when they were young, and have continued it, despite the ups and downs. When he was kidnapped, he wanted to get back to her. Even when they were apart and things seemed like they would never see each other again, Jaime ran back to her side, unwilling to let her die alone. Although as he grew older, he became a much deeper person who helped with wars and battles, he still viewed himself as a hateful person, who has always done everything he could, to get back to Cersei. He fought in many battles, helped enemies, fought enemies, lost a hand, defending the honor of a woman who he would grow to care deeply about. Despite his immoral behavior, Jaime is a knight until the end, making sure to keep his oaths many times, while still trying to navigate a on and off relationship that is toxic for him, not because she was his twin, but because she was awful to him.

#V: Hand of the King [Jaime as Hand of Aerys II]#V: Lord Commander [Jaime's time as Lord Commander]#V: The Lannisters always pay their debts [randomly placed]#Jaime ✖ (Aesthetics)#Jaime ✖ (Thoughts)#Jaime ✖ (Character Development)#Jaime ✖ (Crack)#Jaime ✖ (Headcanons)#Jaime ✖ (Photos)#Jaime ✖ (Starter Call)#Jaime ✖ (Verses)#✖ [Character: Jaime Lannister]#V: Knighted [Young Jaime]#tw: incest

0 notes

oddduckthatgirl · 9 months

Text

Title: Seconds Are Welcome

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x Lannister!female

Warnings: period typical misogyny, arranged marriage, period typical gender roles

Summary: Everyone talks of girls coming of age. No one speaks of when the girl doesn’t desire to be less than who she is.

A/N: this is slightly AU-ish. For this story, Daemon was named heir, not Rhynera (not hate, just a plot). Changed some Lannister names. It’s just a story, let’s not dissect too much. This story will have multiple parts.

Casterly Rock was the ideal hold for any man to feel like a king in his own keep. Jason Lannister attended to his family home with all the devotion any lord would. He has four children. His two sons, James and Jonathon, are both married, each of them having apartments within the walls with their lady wives. Also within the walls are his two unmarried daughters, Jasline and Jaylon.

Jaylon Lannister wasn’t as she appeared. She looked every part a Lannister. Her eyes were such a light shade of blue that they appeared gray in a certain light. A long flowing mane of pale blonde hair. She had a very lean figure, but muscular. She had been tutored all the ways a proper lady should be. She also could read and write seven languages. She and her sister Jasline received the absolute finest instruction befitting their stations. While her sister had to work for every lesson, Jaylon found academics to be simple. As such she had time to learn other lessons.

She spent some afternoons learning about all things equestrian. After all, horses are what helped her family amass their fortune. She wanted to know everything. From an early age, her father Jason indulged her curiosity. He had even found it quite endearing. However, since she was now eight and ten years old and not married he seemed to be irritated by it.

What raised his ire more was her interest in sparring with her brothers. She often would sneak out with them in the evenings so they could instruct her. Until one evening they had been discovered by their father. He hauled her into his study and told her that was not her place as a future lady of a fine house.

“I’m your youngest child Father and your second daughter. I could only hope for a match so great.”

“You will still have a husband to protect you.”

“What happens if he is killed? Who protects me then? Or if he did save my life, now he’s owed a debt. A Lannister always pays their debts.”

Begrudgingly, he relented but insisted on having her train with her brothers. To give her the same teachings. In truth, she was a far more elegant fighter and understood how to use her femininity to her advantage.

Jasline was far more calm. The eldest daughter who had understood her role. She was the picture of a proper lady. Everything a lord could want in a wife. She didn’t argue, she kept her opinions to herself and she could smile all day while appearing to not have a thought in her head. With her temperament, one would wonder her connection to the Lannister name if not for the blonde hair. Most described her as quite pleasant company.

Dull. Jaylon thought of her sister.

She could never live that life.

Jasline had been married to a nice lord from House Blackwood. They had a longer courtship than usual due to some haggling over the dowry. During that time there had been a small uprising that was beginning to become serious. Eventually, it was decided that Jasline and her lord should be married quickly so he could set out with his lord Father to right their lands.

They were wed in a small ceremony. Jaylon was her attendant while he had his cousin. They didn’t even consummate the union before he had to set out.

Young Lord Blackwood never returned. Jasline was a widow before she even had lost her maidenhead.

It made it difficult to find a match for her. So many questions. During the months after, Jasline had occasion to make acquaintance with Thomas Baratheon. They appeared to have a genuine affection for each other, so Jaylon thought, however it would seem their Father didn’t think the young lord, a second son, worthy of his eldest daughter.

Jaylon almost wished her father had those thoughts for her. Once she came of age, her father had her see every eligible second or third son in all of Westeros. She would do her best to be a proper lady but then they would ask her opinion and she would always answer honestly.

“Jaylon, they are not interested in what a lady thinks.”

“Well Father, perhaps they should be.”

She would tell her father about these young lord’s opinions on battle or horses or wine.

“How am I, a Lannister, to sit there and listen to them be so mistaken? They would make a fool of me and by extension, you.”

Jason Lannister was a proud man. He knew his youngest was correct but he would never give her the satisfaction.

“Why must you insist on such obstinate behavior?”

“I believe it is inherent.”

This would most assuredly have her father avoiding her for days on end. Which was fine by Jaylon, more time to devote to sparring and to horses. More time to think of the many ways to make the next suitor for her recoil in disgust. If it wasn’t their misguided crowing about how honored she should be to be their wife and welp their children it was their leering. She even had the moment to strike a young lord who commented on how strong her thighs were from riding.

It was a quick reaction. Truth be told, it was probably the first broken bone the young lord had ever suffered. Judging by his lewdness, it wouldn’t be the last.

Every day is the same. Until it wasn’t.

There was a new tutor. Some Septa sent to them from King's Landing. He told Jasline and Jaylon they were to have lessons in High Valyrian. The girls exchanged a look and knew what that implied.

A Prince was interested in a Lannister wife.

Lucky for Jasline, even more lucky for Father, Jaylon mused. She was just enthusiastic about another language to learn. More than likely she needed to do her best to master it so she could help Jasline. It wouldn’t do her well to not understand it. Jasline focused all her attention on it, while Jaylon made sure to note her struggles.

Jaylon had heard the rumors as had her sister. She could even see the fear in Jasline’s face when people spoke of Prince Daemon. The girls spent hours at night discussing him, his temperament.

“I hear he’s roguishly handsome,” Jasline sighed.

“He’s a Targaryen. Of course he is. And a prince,” Jaylon collects herself, “I suppose if you’re attracted to that sort of person.”

Jasline smirks, “and he’s a wonderful fighter. Quite a quick wit as well.”

Jaylon nods, “much to the annoyance of the small council I hear.”

Jasline shifts to face her sister, “do you think the other whispers have merit?”

“Did you mean the piece about the street of silk or the piece about him murdering his lady wife?”

“Jaylon Lannister! That is treasonous,” Jasline’s face flush.

“Sweet sister. He is a prince. He does as he chooses. He was commanded into marriage, so the story goes. A young prince who didn’t want such a wife. So he did as he pleased. Perhaps he was simply bored.”

“Jaylon. I would bore him so,” she gasped, “you should put yourself in his way.”

Jaylon laughed loudly, “Father wouldn’t dream of that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not you, Jasline. I’m not the first born. I’m just the spare.”

Jasline sighed, “perhaps marriage to the Prince isn’t what I want.”

“Thomas.”

“I love him, sister.”

“I know you do. But we are just women in this world. We are at the whim of every man,” Jaylon reclines and gazes out the window, “and Father knows best for us.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Jasline settles herself in her bed, “I would suppose it’s easy to be so placid; the eyes of a dragon aren't fixed upon you. But they should be.”

“Oh Jasline, marriage is an arrangement. You smile, you nod, you bear his children. Everything else you will sort out.”

“I have sorted it. He needs to wed you. You are one of the greatest beauties in all of Westeros. You are intelligent, strong, cunning and most importantly you are not easily swayed by the opinions of others.”

Jaylon rolls her eyes, “sleep sister, you’ll need your strength.”

Jasline settles into bed, “yes I will. I need to convince His Highness of all your virtues.”

Jaylon leaves her sister to rest and makes her way to her room for the night. She laughs thinking over her sister’s suggestion that she be put in Prince Daemon’s way. Her father would never allow it. She imagines the look of rage that would take him over. How he would have to obey the command of his Prince, if he did want her instead. That would raise his ire even more.

She couldn’t help the smile at the thought. Fun but a fool’s wish.

She sat and brushed her hair, staring at her reflection. She wonders what it is about her that these lord’s find appealing. She’s just a young girl, who knows about horses and wine. That reads whatever she can so she wouldn’t be left behind in the conversation of men. Her understanding that information is the greatest and most valuable commodity.

This is how she gathered what she could on the Targaryen prince. She wanted her sister to have every advantage. She also didn’t want to displease the man herself and squander all the work that has gone into this endeavor.

Before she drifted to sleep, she imagined what a conversation with him would be like. Would he be intimidating? Would he be kind? She also hoped for the chance to see his dragon. That isn’t a sight she would soon forget.

#house of dragons #hotd daemon #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon au #daemon x oc #oddduckthatgirl #seconds are welcome

75 notes · View notes

maid-with-sunset-in-her-hair · 1 year

Text

I’m completely sure that Lancel Lannister will not only survive to the end of the series, but also inherit Casterly Rock after Cersei and her children die. She always wanted to be Tywin’s heir, and resented Jaime for getting that by virtue of his gender, so what better narrative punishment than the inheritance she always wanted going to the cousin she sexually abused? Lancel looks like Jaime and only wanted to be like him growing up, so it makes sense if his endgame is becoming the Lord of the Westerlands, becoming what Jaime could’ve been if he hadn't given up his lands and titles for Cersei.

Not to mention that GRRM will probably want to resolve the conflict between the Lannisters and the Starks before the series’ end, and unfortunately for all the pedo shippers who wanted Sansa’s forced marriage to Tyrion to become the cornerstone of peace, Lancel and Sansa being the ones that sign the armistice is more thematically coherent. She saved his life during the Battle of the Blackwater even though he was her enemy, and a Lannister always pays his debts. Peace will be born from an act of mercy, not from Tywin’s attempt to steal a girl’s inheritance and subjugate the North.

#make a guess what triggered this whole rant 😂#asoiaf #my meta #valyrianscrolls #lancel lannister #sansa stark #anti cersei lannister #anti tyrion lannister #anti sanrion #anti tywin lannister

234 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

lust4white

Hot White Men

fights4users

End Of Line _

fuckyeahlittlemiss-blog

♡Ben Schnetzer Trash♡

bb-bullshit

meatball

wli2rriss

Untitled