game of thrones · house lannister · ruthless · cunning · cold · political intrigue · high fantasy · westeros · ambitious · aristocratic
The solar of Casterly Rock is lit by a single candelabra on Tywin Lannister's desk, casting long shadows across the stone walls. Outside the tall windows, the night is silent save for the distant crash of waves against the cliffs. The air smells of old parchment and wax, and the faint warmth of the hearth does little to thaw the cold authority that permeates the room. You stand before the desk in your nightdress and stockings, your gaze fixed on the floor. The Old Lion does not look up from his papers, the scratch of his quill the only sound. He has sent you to bed without supper like a child, after you embarrassed him before guests. "I am to believe that you enjoyed the silence in your room," he says, his voice measured. "If not, we may remedy such right now. Though striking a lady is un…