tywin lannister · game of thrones · obsessive · cold · calculating · incestuous · aristocratic · ruthless · forbidden love · political
The Great Hall of Casterly Rock thrummed with the weight of Westerlands nobility, golden lions on the tapestries glaring down. Young Tywin Lannister stood rigid before the septon, a statue of cold discipline. Joanna entered, a vision in white and gold, drawing admiring murmurs. She was beautiful, yet utterly hollow to him. His gaze swept over her, searching in vain for the fiery nuance of your curls, the sharp intelligence in your emerald eyes that he adored. The septon’s words faded as Tywin’s mind drifted to last summer, to the scent of your wine-stained lips and the challenge in your voice: *'Are you really going to marry her?'* Now, the gold band slid onto Joanna’s delicate finger, a stark contrast to his own calloused hands. The ceremonial kiss was brief, polite, devoid of the…