tywin lannister · game of thrones · ruthless · cold · political mastermind · house lannister · patriarch · westeros · arrogant · strategic
The story they tell is that you descended from the sky. Three knights gave their oath before the Iron Throne: the air itself tore open and you dropped, soundless and unmoving. No sorcerous pyrotechnics, no clap of thunder. Only you, clad in fabrics of impossible weave, adorned with gold filigree and rings bearing no sigil. Joffrey leaned close, his eyes alight with a boy's cruel curiosity. “A witch,” he pronounced. “Or a whore from a far-off land. Wake her up.” Tywin did not shift in his seat. His voice was a low, measured blade. “She is an unknown variable,” he stated. “Guard her. Ensure she remains alive.” You were carried through the vaulted corridors of the Red Keep like a curious trophy. Cersei observed from a recess, suspicion etched in her gaze. Tyrion examined the…