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themotherofblood · 11 months

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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.

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raspberryfingers · 1 year

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A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 12)

WARNING: it’s SFW in my opinion (tbh I’m not sure where to draw the line), but things get a bit heated so just a heads up :)

—————

“I want to see Lord Tywin,” I demanded, standing outside the doors to his chambers. His two guards were reluctant because it was quite late, and Tywin might be sleeping.

“My lady, I don’t want to disturb the Lord Hand,” one of them spoke nervously.

“Nonsense. If he’s bothered, I’ll say I insisted. The blame will be completely on me. And, if you’re honest with yourself, he’d be more mad if you denied me,” I argued, watching them swallow. They opened the door for me, and I smiled.

“Thank you, gentlemen.”

I was let in, and I promptly made my way to Tywin’s actual bedroom. Carefully opening the door, I found him asleep in his bed which was gracefully positioned in the middle of the room. He looked so… peaceful.

I closed the door behind me, and the noise seemed to wake him. I felt bad, but I did need to speak with him urgently. I watched his eyes flutter open a few times before he realized I was there, making him sit up.

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong, my dear? It’s quite late,” he said, rubbing his eyes and yawning slightly. He lifted his blankets from his legs, turning and sitting on the edge of the mattress to face me. He was wearing a long, black nightgown, which revealed his legs and quite a bit of his chest.

I’d never seen him so undressed before, and so my face naturally became hot. Though, in all fairness, I was also wearing my own nightgown, which was truthfully quite revealing. Tywin had also been eyeing me, it seemed, because his lips were parted and I could see his face go red even in the candlelight.

“It’s about Tyrion. I couldn’t sleep, I kept replaying the scene in my head. At the wedding, I mean. Joffrey looked so… well, I’ve never seen the strangler in action before. It was more horrendous than the books I’ve read described it,” I said, making my way over to him and taking his hands in mine. I was standing between his legs, and he sat up straighter as I got close.

“Would you like to sleep here?” He offered gently, giving my hands a small squeeze.

“Would it bother you?”

“No, of course not. But what is it about Tyrion?” He asked, tucking some hair behind my ear.

“Something felt… wrong to me. Tyrion isn’t stupid, Tywin, and you know that. Why- why would he have poisoned Joffrey in front of so many people especially when he looked like the obvious culprit? He wouldn’t, is my point,” I began, watching Tywin’s eyes periodically cast down at my breasts. Good.

“If Tyrion didn’t do it, then who did?” He asked somewhat rhetorically, as if there was no other plausible scenario.

“Well that’s what I began to think about. If Joffrey was poisoned with the strangler of all things, then clearly the person would know quite a bit about poisons. Now, I know quite a bit about poisons, but quite obviously I am not responsible. So who else?” I said, watching him think about it.

“Who else, Tywin? Who has any reason to want Joffrey gone and knows a lot about poison? Who had the perfect opportunity to do it at the wedding?”

I watched it click in his head.

“Prince Oberyn.”

I nodded slowly, and brought a hand to his face.

“Prince Oberyn. He has a famous hatred for the Lannisters, and was aware of the consequences Joffrey’s death would bring your family. When else would he have the opportunity to do it?” I said, sparking the idea for him. I suddenly felt like Cersei, trying to put the idea of an enemy into someone else’s head.

“Even if Prince Oberyn did poison Joffrey, we still don’t have explicit proof,” Tywin said, scratching his beard as he contemplated.

“I thought of that too. I remember clearly, and you can even ask my sister. Prince Oberyn went up to their table to present a gift, and while he was there he ‘smelled’ Joffrey’s wine. Perhaps while he was doing that he slipped the crystal in. I remember specifically too, it was his dessert glass. Tyrion did nothing but bring that cup over to him,” I said, recalling the scene I’d watched two days ago.

“Crystal?” He inquired.

“The strangler usually looks like a small crystal, it’s practically something one could wear on a necklace. In fact, many use it for that reason specifically,” I explained, watching him think. I knew he’d been there when the feast was being cleaned up, he’d told me he was going to stay in case any further proof was found. I also knew that Oberyn had purposefully left another crystal of the strangler on his seat at the feast, and it was likely someone had noticed and thought it to be a piece of missing jewelry.

“What is it?” I asked softly, watching his face contort with his thoughts.

“Nothing, let me think about it.”

I nodded, and he sighed.

“Prince Oberyn did not know Tyrion would be framed for it, though. Why would he take such a big risk with no other assurances?” Tywin countered my previous statement, letting one of his hands come to my waist and pull me a bit closer. It was an odd conversation to have while in such an intimate position. I was also surprised he hadn’t mentioned the crystal.

“Well that’s just it, Tywin. Everyone knows I’m an expert with poisons, perhaps he thought Cersei would blame me. Especially as everyone also knows she is not particularly fond of me,” I reasoned.

“I never would’ve let Cersei imprison you, and if she had I’d sneak you out of the city,” he mumbled, leaning forward a bit to place a soft kiss on my neck. It made me shiver, and I reached for his shoulders.

“Even if I’d killed Joffrey?”

That made him retract a bit and raise an eyebrow.

“Would you have?”

“No. Margaery had him figured out, it seemed. Plus, if I was going to, I wouldn't have been so stupid as to poison him, and certainly not in front of everyone,” I said, laughing softly. Tywin smiled, and glanced at my lips. This was going perfectly.

“Well, even if you had, it’s not as if anyone is going to miss him very much, besides his mother anyways. Tommen is much more suitable for this kind of thing, though he will need guidance,” Tywin reasoned, not bothering to shy away from the truth.

“Have you spoken with him yet?”

“I spoke with him at the sept. He’s a quick learner, and eager too, it seems. We went over what makes a king good, and additionally that he’s going to need to marry to further the family line and such,” he said with a sigh.

“Oh? And how did that conversation go?” I asked with a sly grin.

“Well, I took it upon myself to inform him of how the whole thing works. I was surprised nobody had ever explained it to him, but nonetheless he seemed receptive,” he guessed with a shrug.

“And how does it work, my lord?”

I watched Tywin’s eyes spark, and I smiled to myself.

“I told him it starts like this,” he whispered, reaching for my face and kissing me. There was a hunger in his motions, and I couldn’t resist the urge to give into him. I kissed back, letting my hand drag down a bit to his chest. I felt the soft hairs there, and Tywin pulled me in a bit closer.

“Then what?” I gasped when he pulled away. He knew the game we were playing now and smiled.

“Rather bold for someone new to this sort of thing, aren’t you?” He teased, putting a hand under my chin.

“No, my lord, of course not. I am just naturally curious and wish to be educated and informed,” I played, watching him chuckle and then move to kiss my neck.

Tingles went up my spine, and I moved into him completely and gripped onto him. The sensation was overwhelming, especially as his stubble brushed against the rest of my skin.

He began to suck at the skin, and I gasped.

“Tywin… you’re going to leave a mark,” I mumbled.

He pulled back and raised an eyebrow.

“And that means I should stop?”

I bit my lip, and slowly shook my head. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me onto the bed, moving and laying back so I was straddling him. The position was so suggestive I thought I might explode, and he clearly seemed satisfied by the look on my face.

“Is this alright?” He asked softly, wanting to make sure I felt comfortable. When I nodded, he began to relax a bit.

Slowly, his hands came up my thighs, and he started to lift my gown further and further.

“Tywin…” I whispered nervously, not sure what he was intending to do.

“I’m not going to do anything, (Y/N). I just want to feel your skin,” he assured me, letting his hands come under the fabric and settle on my thighs. It was new to me, for in all my years I’d never allowed myself to get close enough to anyone.

Slowly, I leaned down and kissed him, placing my hands on his chest as I did. He sighed sweetly and brought one hand to cup my cheek. It was strange, because though we had not been ‘courting’ for long, it all felt so natural with Tywin. I did not feel anxious or rushed as I kissed him, in fact I felt perfectly fine.

If anything, I desired more.

It seemed Tywin did too, for he again moved to kiss my neck. It was a gripping feeling in a way I struggled to describe, but it was wonderful. Not to mention, I could feel him hardening beneath me.

“Tywin…” I gasped softly, feeling him lick up my neck. In all honesty, I was having a hard time processing that this was happening. When I kissed him again, he pushed his tongue into my mouth and I couldn’t resist a moan. Gods, this was better than I’d ever imagined, and we weren’t even having sex.

“I hope you didn’t explain it this way to Tommen,” I teased when I pulled away, to which he chuckled softly.

“No, I certainly did not.”

I smiled and let myself slide off of him, laying beside him and snuggling into his side. We both seemed content to just hold each other for now.

“Is there enough evidence to warrant arresting Oberyn?” I asked after a moment, looking over at Tywin curiously.

“Given that he did touch Joffrey’s cup, yes, there is. I’ll have him arrested first thing tomorrow, he’ll receive a trial just like Tyrion,” Tywin noted, turning his head to meet my gaze.

“And… based on your description of the poison, I believe we found an extra crystal of it. One of the guards found something like your description on his chair. I assumed Ellaria Sand had lost a part of her jewelry, and I’ve been meaning to have it returned, but it slipped my mind. The crystals over there on top of the dresser,” he said, finally mentioning it. I was surprised he’d cared enough to keep it, but this worked out wonderfully.

“Why didn’t you just order the guard to take it back to her?” I asked, sitting up and getting out of the bed to go look at it.

“I was going to talk to Oberyn anyway. Tyrion met with him at Littlefinger’s brothel last week, I wanted to know what about. I figured I’d just give it to him then,” Tywin admitted, sitting up as well and watching me pick the crystal up. Sure enough, it was what Oberyn had planted.

“Well, it’s a good thing you decided to keep it. This is the strangler, it’s notable by the rough texture of it. Normal jewels don’t feel like this,” I said, bringing it over to him and letting him touch. He nodded and looked at me seriously.

“We’ll keep it as evidence,” he said quietly, motioning for me to put it back. I did so, and then joined him in bed again.

“Let us sleep, (Y/N), it’s late,” he whispered, watching me adjust the blankets. I felt his hand come to my waist and pull me down gently. I smiled and let myself lay back, snuggling closer to him as I laid my head on his chest.

I could hear the gentle pounding of his heart, and feel his chest rising and falling beneath me. One of his hands came to my back, and I felt a sweet kiss upon my forehead.

Though my eyes were closed, I smiled. Coming here to speak with him had been a plot, but this certainly was not one. And I was grateful, too, for amidst the politics and betrayal, it was nice to know that there was still me and there was still Tywin.

In his arms, I knew not of Joffrey’s death, only peace and only sleep. And of course, one that I could never forget; in his arms there was only love.

—————

When Tywin woke, you were still sound asleep in his arms. It had caught him off guard, if he was honest. It had been decades since someone had slept in his arms like this.

He had missed it.

Carefully, he slid out of bed before placing a pillow in your arms. Hopefully that would serve as a comfort in his absence. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your head before making his way over to his closet. As he got dressed, he periodically looked over to observe you as you slept. He liked to watch you in such a state of peace, as he imagined sometimes the way your head worked was rather overwhelming for you.

Prince Oberyn was the first matter he had to attend to this morning, which did not give him great expectations for a good day.

Before that, however, he would make sure you were attended to. He left a note on the small table beside his bed, explaining that he was leaving to go deal with Oberyn, and that he would send for your chambermaid to bring a few dresses to his chambers so you could pick one for the day. He said to leave the others in his closet in case you should decide to join him again.

When that was done, he quietly left the room and addressed the guards outside his door.

“Both of you, hold out your hands,” he demanded, looking between them. They did so, and watched as Tywin gave both of them a small bag of gold.

“This is for your discretion about Lady (Y/N) staying the night. If anyone should find out, I’ll know it was one of you who decided to tell them. Do you want to know what happens if I discover you’ve broken my trust?” Tywin explained, watching both of them look down.

“You probably don’t want to know, but I’ll tell you anyway. If I’m in a good mood, I’ll take both of your heads and be done with it. If I’m not, you’d better pray the gods let you die quickly. Am I clear?”

“Yes, my lord,” both replied quickly, clearly intimated and also rather nervous.

“Good, now one of you go and find Lady (Y/N)’s chambermaid. Deliver this note to her and tell her to read it immediately,” Tywin commanded, holding out a small letter. The guard closest to Tywin nodded and took it, instantly setting off to go find Cerella.

From there, Tywin set off to Littlefinger’s brothel. It was always somewhat disgusting to him when the easiest place to find a person was at that brothel, but at least knowing Oberyn Martell would be there meant he would not have to do any ‘tracking down.’

When he entered the brothel, locating Oberyn was rather easy, as he’d obtained the biggest room in the establishment.

Upon entering, there were men and women all over the bed, all of which looked up when Tywin and his guards entered.

“Prince Oberyn,” he greeted, watching him smile from the middle of all the bodies.

“Lord Tywin.”

“May we have the room, please?”

Everyone but Oberyn left, and so did Tywin’s guards. He watched Oberyn sit up, and paid little attention to the women walking by him. Even with your nightgown on, you’d pleased him far more last night.

“Would you like to sit?” Oberyn offered.

“No, thank you.”

He rose from the bed, and went to fill his cup.

“Some wine?”

“No, thank you,” Tywin said again, more lightly this time. He did not want to make this harder than it had to be.

“I’m sorry about your grandson,” Oberyn said casually. He knew why Tywin was here, but for now he’d play the game.

“Are you?”

“I do not believe a child is responsible for the sins of his father. Or his grandfather, for that matter. A terrible way to die,” he continued.

“And which way is that?”

Oberyn merely smiled.

“The king was clearly poisoned.”

“Which you would know, as I’m told you studied poisons at the citadel,” Tywin said rather sharply.

“Are you interrogating me, Lord Tywin?” Oberyn asked, sitting back down on the bed and grinning.

“It is rather suspicious, Prince Oberyn, that days after you—an expert in poisons—arrive in the capital, my grandson dies of poisoning,” he pointed out, hands clasping behind his back.

“So why haven’t you thrown me in a cell yet?”

“What do you think I’m here to do?”

The doors opened again, and the guards reentered. They did not draw their swords, merely stood there.

“I thought you blamed your son, Lord Tywin. Why bother to blame another when a guilty man is already in a cell?” He asked curiously, not at all worried.

“I wouldn’t have if something wasn’t pointed out to me. Lady (Y/N) spoke to me late last night, she-“

“Late last night?” Oberyn smiled as he watched a small anger spark in Tywin’s eyes. He couldn’t help but tease a bit.

“She mentioned to me that you approached my grandson and her sister. You presented them with a gift, and then grabbed the cup Joffrey had for dessert. You apparently smelled the wine, and then placed it back on the table. That wine was what killed the king,” he explained, watching Oberyn look between all the guards. Would he try to fight his way out?

“Not to mention,” Tywin continued, reaching into his pocket and removing the small crystal, “this was found on your chair, and is confirmed to be the same type of poison that killed the king.”

Oberyn observed the crystal, glad that it had paid off. You truly couldn’t have orchestrated this any better, and if it wouldn’t have looked suspicious he might’ve laughed. It seemed all of King's Landing was truly just playing your game.

“I will not resist, Lord Tywin, but I will say I’m rather surprised you figured it out so quickly,” Oberyn grinned.

“I didn’t, Lady (Y/N) did.”

“She’s quite intelligent, isn’t she?” Oberyn inquired, adjusting the cloth over his shoulders before crossing his arms.

“Yes, she is,” Tywin affirmed warily. He could tell this was going somewhere.

“Many say you admire her, Lord Tywin. Others go so far as to say you love her. To watch the two of you dance was quite beautiful, I must admit. And, it is the only thing people are talking about besides the king's death,” Oberyn noted with a sip of his wine.

“I respect Lady (Y/N). What is your point, Prince Oberyn?”

Placing his cup down and taking a few steps forward, Oberyn inhaled. The guards also took a step forward, but Tywin motioned for them to stop.

“My point is that she is correct. I did kill your grandson, and it was quite satisfying to take part of your legacy away from you. But… perhaps it is someone else’s death that might have caused you the same suffering I experienced after Elia died,” Oberyn whispered, watching the fire spark in Tywin’s eyes.

Ah, yes, there it was. He was mad now.

“Seize him.”

Two guards reached for Oberyn’s arms, and he did not resist them.

“Lord Tywin, I ought to tell you, I will not be needing a judged trial.”

“You will receive one, Prince Oberyn. If you wish to plead guilty and beg mercy in hopes of being sent to the wall, you must do it at your trial,” Tywin explained, keeping his clenched fist behind his back. He was still furious about what Oberyn had insinuated.

“I said a judged trial, Lord Tywin. I am requesting a trial by combat.”

“Which you must do before the masses at an actual trial,” Tywin continued, motioning for the guards to take him. They did, all leaving until Tywin was the only one left in the room. He looked over his shoulder slightly and took a deep breath to try and soothe his anger.

He would never let you be harmed, no matter what it took. You were the most precious thing to him now, though he hated to admit it. He was putting a woman before his family, gods what had you done to him? But still, he would watch all seven kingdoms burn if it meant keeping you safe. If Dorne came first, so be it.

—————

I had already returned to my room by the time Tywin had returned to the Red Keep. In fact, I was talking to Cerella—who had just revealed quite the thing—before Tywin knocked on the door.

“The Lord Hand is requesting me to be his new chambermaid. I got this letter this morning,” she said, handing me a small sheet of paper.

I examined it, and it was certainly Tywin’s handwriting.

“Do you have any idea why?” She asked nervously. I knew exactly why, of course. Tywin wanted to make the amount of people who knew we were romantically engaged smaller. Plus, I had mentioned to him before that I rather trusted Cerella.

“Cerella, the reason is that you’re going to need to keep a secret. Can you do that? Tywin’s quite serious about it,” I explained, hoping that she’d feel alright with it. She nodded.

“Of course, my lady. What is it?”

“Lord Tywin and I… well, we’re… how shall I put this? We’re… courting… secretly, if that makes any sense,” I said softly, watching her face carefully. Her mouth fell open slightly.

“Truly?”

“Yes, truly.”

She began to smile.

“The two of you would make the most powerful match Westeros has seen in centuries, my lady! The great lion and the nightshade!” She said excitedly, laughing as I began to blush.

“But you can’t tell anyone! Tywin and I agreed to keep it a secret, outside of completely necessary and secure situations. You mustn’t tell anyone, Cerella. I believe he’s requesting you now because I slept in his bed last night and needs a chambermaid we can both trust should I be seen,” I explained, watching her eyebrows raised. I then realized what it sounded like.

“Slept in his bed?”

“No! Not like that, I quite literally just slept in his bed. I couldn’t sleep last night because I was thinking so much, so I went to go talk with him and just… well, I just ended up sleeping there,” I said, to which she laughed softly and nodded.

“I see.”

There was a knock on the door and an announcement. To my surprise, Tywin came to see me today. Usually I had to go visit him in the tower of the hand because he never had time to leave the damned place.

“Enter!” I shouted, looking at Cerella with a small grin.

Tywin came into the room and was surprised to find us there talking.

“Lady (Y/N),” he greeted formally, not wanting her to be suspicious.

“It’s alright, Tywin. I told Cerella already, as she was probably going to find me in your bed at one point or another,” I said with a soft smile.

“This is your chambermaid?” He asked, to which I nodded. He looked at her awkwardly and gave a small nod.

“Miss. Could we have the room?” He asked her. Cerella nodded and stood up quickly.

“Of course, Lord Hand.”

We both watched her leave the room, and Tywin sat where she had been.

“How did it go?” I asked, assuming he’d come to discuss Oberyn.

“He admitted to it, and did not fight the guards. Though, his admittance was more to taunt me than anything, I believe. He intends to request a trial by combat,” Tywin explained, shaking his head when I offered wine.

“Of course he does. Cersei’s going to pick the most natural choice, which is of course the mountain. He gets to fight the mountain without any legal consequences,” I said, sighing and leaning back in my chair.

“Legal consequences, yes. I don’t think he’ll be so happy when he’s dead,” Tywin grumbled, gazing out my window. I stood up and made my way around the table, standing behind him to massage his shoulders.

“What happens if he wins? Would war be waged on Dorne?” I asked curiously, although I already knew the answer was no.

“No. If Oberyn wins it proves him completely innocent, even if he’s not. Even if he were to confess in front of everyone that he was guilty—which he’d have to do in the actual trial by combat otherwise he could be held accountable—we still would not have reason to wage war against Dorne, as ‘in the eyes of the gods,’ nothing had been done wrong,” he explained, though I had already done quite a bit of research beforehand to make sure there was no risk.

“I see. To convince Oberyn to do that would be the smartest thing, wouldn’t it? If he confesses guilt during the trial by combat, it means there’s no risk for Tyrion,” I reasoned, having considered what might work best to make sure Tyrion survived the debacle.

“I can make Oberyn’s trial first, but Tyrion will still need a trial scheduled and I believe Cersei’s doing her utmost to prove him guilty. If Oberyn was to request a trial by combat it would happen the next day, but most likely after Tyrion’s,” he said with a sigh, rubbing his forehead.

An idea sparked into my head as I considered what the implications of that might mean.

“Tyrion can’t attend his trial if he’s not present. Sneak him out of the city until Oberyn’s trial is done. I’ll speak with Oberyn and convince him to confess during his trial by combat, so that way when Tyrion returns he’ll spend a week or two in a cell for fleeing his trial, but not for his charges,” I thought out, letting a hand come to Tywin’s hair and gently pet it back.

“I’d rather you not speak with Prince Oberyn,” he said, making me raise an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“He threatened you this morning. He told me he should’ve poisoned you instead of Joffrey so that I might be as upset as he was after losing Elia,” Tywin noted, looking down. I softened and moved to be beside him, lifting his face to look at me.

“Tywin you mustn’t listen to him. He only wanted to make you angry,” I assured him.

“I won’t lose you, (Y/N),” he muttered, looking away despite facing me. I felt my heart break. I was certain this fear was stemming from his loss of Joanna.

Gently, I stepped between him and the table, and sat on his leg. I cupped his face with both of my hands.

“Look at me, Tywin. You’re not going to lose me, alright? I’m right here, I always will be,” I said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He wrapped one arm around my waist and let the other rest on my lap as he kissed back, and I could see tears forming in his eyes.

“I love you, (Y/N). I need to keep you safe,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I kissed him again and let myself relax.

“I will be safe. You trusted me to speak with Robb Stark, Tywin. Trust me again right now. If I can end wars, surely I can convince a man to not let one person die in vain. Oberyn is in a cell, he won’t hurt me,” I pleaded.

“Take some of my guards with you, please,” he allowed, though still hesitant.

“I’ll take Ser Elias.”

“Not him,” Tywin said sharply, making me raise my eyebrows in surprise. That was when it clicked. I recalled the day at the smith, when he’d made comments about Elias, not to mention getting bitter for seemingly no reason.

He was jealous.

“Are you jealous of him, Tywin?” I asked, laughing a bit in disbelief.

“No.”

“Yes you are! Ser Elias is happily married, Tywin. He’s like a brother to me,” I said with a smile, unable to find the upset look on Tywin’s face not utterly adorable.

“He’s still a man,” he grumbled in response.

“Well guess what? I don't do this to See Elias, nor would I ever,” I whispered, kissing him rather passionately. He gave a soft groan in response.

“I want you, Tywin. I’m yours. Don’t let yourself get caught up with every man who stares at me, otherwise you’ll always be upset,” I said, teasing slightly at the end.

“I hate that they don’t know you’re mine. When they see you, I want them to know I’m the only man lucky enough to have you,” he scowled, pulling me in closer to him.

“Rather possessive, aren’t we?” I teased with a smile.

“Yes, I am. You are mine.”

Tywin brought his hand to the back of my head and pushed it down, kissing me fervently. I responded accordingly, gripping onto his coat and kissing back just as intensely.

When he pushed his tongue into my mouth, I moaned just as I had the night before. It seemed he was becoming rather fond of doing it, and I couldn’t deny that I was too.

It was odd to me, that in the midst of all that was happening, I only cared about Tywin. A king dead, two men in the cells to be tried for it, and all I cared about was Tywin Lannister.

But, how could I not? After all, it was becoming more and more apparent to me that just as I was his, he was also mine. Perhaps in time we’d say those words again with his cloak on my back, just as I’d prayed we would.

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#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #house lannister #game of thrones x reader #Charles dance #game of thrones #Oberyn Martell #a lion in the garden

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