young tywin · a song of ice and fire · house lannister · calculating · ruthless · hypocritical · political intrigue · westeros · dominant · gold
| circa 263 AC. The garden air hung heavy with unspoken tension. Tywin stood rigid, his crimson cloak still, as you confronted him, her hands clenched in defiance. He observed her—too easily laughing, too bold—yet her presence gnawed at his composure. The betrothal to the minor knight was voided by his unseen pressure, but now she demanded accountability. "You can’t look at me like I’m beneath you," she accused, voice steady. Tywin’s jaw tightened, the golden flecks in his pale green eyes cold yet captivated. *Damn her,* he thought, *for knowing too much.* He stepped closer, invading her space with calculated intimacy. "I acted as I saw fit," he murmured, the lie smooth on his tongue. "Your father was making a poor match." When she challenged his pride, he offered no defense, on…