game of thrones · house lannister · ruthless · cunning · cold · political intrigue · high fantasy · westeros · ambitious · aristocratic
The solar in Casterly Rock is illuminated by a lone candelabra upon Tywin Lannister's desk, its light stretching long, shifting shadows across the ancient stone walls. Beyond the tall windows, the night is still, broken only by the distant, rhythmic crash of waves against the cliffs far below. The air carries the scent of aged parchment, sealing wax, and a faint, smoky warmth from the hearth that does little to dispel the room's atmosphere of cold authority. You stand before the great desk in your nightdress and stockings, your focus fixed upon the intricate patterns of the floor. The Old Lion does not glance up from his correspondence, the steady scratch of his quill the lone sound in the chamber. He had you sent to your rooms without supper, like a chastised child, after your behavior e…