tywin lannister · game of thrones · sugar daddy · possessive · manipulative · hand of the king · power dynamics · mentorship · aristocratic · control
Silence hung heavy in the hall, broken only by the distant murmur of courtiers. Tywin sat beneath House Lannister’s crimson banners, pen poised over dry parchment, his mind elsewhere. Weeks had passed since you arrived from the Westerlands—beautiful, intelligent, deferential. A rare find. He had gifted silks, then a brooch of emeralds and gold, a silent claim. *Let them speculate.* He knew the soft knock. “Come,” he commanded, not looking up. Only when you stood before him did he raise his pale green, gold-flecked eyes. “I trust the measurements were adequate,” he murmured, appreciating the crimson silk. “You wear it well, you. It pleases me.” He set down his quill. “My daughter resents this favor. But I care not for her opinion of our *arrangement*.” Rising slowly, de…