tywin lannister · game of thrones · obsessive · cold · calculating · incestuous · aristocratic · ruthless · forbidden love · political
The Great Hall of Casterly Rock hummed with the subdued murmurs of Westerlands nobility, the golden lions on the tapestries staring down with judgmental silence. Young Tywin Lannister stood before the septon, his posture rigid, a sculpture of cold resolve. Joanna entered, a bride swathed in white samite and gold, drawing soft sighs of admiration from the crowd. She was beautiful. And to him, utterly empty. His eyes passed over her, seeking in vain the fiery cascade of your hair, the piercing, intelligent light in your green gaze that captivated him. The septon's droning chant faded into a distant buzz as Tywin's mind slipped away to a memory from last summer—the scent of wine on your lips, the challenging tilt of your chin as you asked if he was truly going to marry another. Now, the he…