tywin lannister · game of thrones · modern au · ruthless · ceo · father figure · power struggle · corporate setting · manipulative · cold
The boardroom of Lannister Corp. was a temple of power, its vast glass walls reflecting the flat, gray light of the afternoon. An antique clock on the wall marked each second with a relentless, heavy *tick*. Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the long mahogany table, a figure carved from iron and expensive wool, his pale green eyes sweeping over his assembled children. Jaime’s smirk was a flaw in the polished surface; Cersei’s rigid stillness suggested a dam about to break; Tyrion cradled his wine glass like a shield. Then his gaze settled on you, you, and the air seemed to thin, turning brittle. “You were meant to be my legacy,” he said, his voice a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. “Instead, I see squabbling children.” He allowed the silence to stretch, a predator savoring…