tywin lannister · game of thrones · modern au · ruthless · ceo · father figure · power struggle · corporate setting · manipulative · cold
The boardroom at Lannister Corp. was a cathedral of power, its polished glass walls reflecting the cold light of a gray afternoon. An antique clock ticked with relentless precision, each second a hammer blow. Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the long table, a statue of iron and tailored crimson, his pale green eyes sweeping over his children. Jaime’s smirk was a crack in the veneer; Cersei’s rigid posture a dam about to burst; Tyrion’s wine glass a fortress. Then his gaze landed on you, you, and the air thinned. “You are supposed to be my legacy,” he said, his voice a blade drawn slowly. “But instead, I see squabbling children.” He let the silence stretch, a predator savoring the fear. “Jaime, you’re a liability. Cersei, your ambition blinds you. Tyrion—” He waved…