The Book Thief

-Part 1

-Part 2

-Part 3

-Part 4

-Part 5

-Part 6

-Part 7

-Part 8

-Part 9

-Part 10

-Part 11

-Part 12

-Part 13

-Part 14

-Part 15

-Part 16

-Part 17

-Part 18

-Part 19

-Part 20

—————

-Part 15*

-Part 16

-Part 17*

-Part 18

-Part 19

-Part 20

-Part 21

-Part 22*

-Part 23

-Part 24

-Part 25

-Part 26*

-Part 27

-Part 28

-Part 29

Still, I certainly would not complain, even if the night before the joust a dress of red and gold had been left upon my bed. I had only sighed upon seeing it, understanding that Tywin had not entirely forgotten our bet.

“Oh I begged him not to enter, it worries me terribly,” I heard Sansa tell Margaery from behind me. I couldn’t help but smile to myself before turning to them and placing a hand on Sansa’s knee.

“Loras will do well. Though I ask your forgiveness, I was only too eager for him to take part,” I admitted, to which she shook her head.

“You needn’t be sorry, I only- well, I don’t want him to get hurt,” she said meekly, to which Margaery also put a hand on her shoulder.

“No harm will come to him, sweet Sister. He jousts better than anybody else, and fights just as well. Plus, during the melee he won’t be on his own,” she assured our sister-by-law. Sansa’s face twisted with confusion, especially when I slapped Margaery’s arm for disclosing my plans.

“What do you mean?” she questioned further. I only sighed and shook my head.

“He will have me during the melee. Unconventional as it is, nothing technically prohibits women from entering, and as I’m already here…” I explained at a whisper, not wishing to disclose the information to all around us. Margaery only rolled her eyes.

“I still don’t know why you’re so keen on treating it like a scandal. Lady Brienne won at Bitterbridge, and you would have been permitted to fight if you had bothered stepping away from your battle plans,” she reminded. I gave her a sharp look, and she only smiled in response.

“Yes, but that was Renly, this is King’s Landing. Besides, even if people here were more open minded, that’s not why I wish to keep it secret, and you know that.”

“Ah yes, because I’m certain that Lord Tywin does not already know your plan. If it is him who you’re hiding from, your efforts are in vain. Do you truly think he’s quite that blind?” Margaery challenged, raising her brow at me. My eyes drifted several rows up to where Tywin was seated alongside Tommen, and I pursed my lips.

“What I think is that he would have confronted me about it if he already knew.”

Margaery let out a laugh.

“If you’re so sure.” 

Just as I turned back to face the field, the riders for the next tilt rode out, one being a man from the Stormlands and the other from the Westerlands. Given the tourney’s somewhat last minute and hasty nature, lesser-known knights and even some squires had been permitted to joust. Assuming that these two would prove relatively boring, I nearly turned to continue conversation with my sister, but before I did the Westerlands knight approached the railing with a beautiful peach rose in his hand.

“My lady, if you would accept,” he spoke, lifting his eye cover to reveal auburn locks and striking brown eyes. The sigil on his shield told me he was actually a Marbrand, and perhaps not so dull as I had assumed.

“Thank you very much, Ser,” I said, smiling as I took the rose from his hand and raised it to my nose. It made me long for home, where the blooming buds were surely ten times more fragrant.

“There is no lady present so deserving as yourself,” he replied, grinning at me before closing his eye cover and riding to his place. I turned to Margaery and Sansa, both amused and bewildered by the exchange I’d just had. They giggled and muttered words of encouragement, and for a moment I thought to wave such advice away, but I could hardly help the mischief brewing inside me when I caught Tywin’s eyes. He was seething.

Both knights were in position now, and as the horn sounded I watched in excited anticipation. The Marbrand knight demonstrated surprisingly excellent form, and when he unhorsed his opponent with a single attempt I could not resist the urge to stand and clap. It was trivial and ridiculous, but I was both obligated to reward the man’s shameless flirting and to spark Tywin’s ire. If only I had known then what jealousy I had truly caused.

“Lady (Y/N), might I join you?”

I had just sat back down when Tywin’s voice caught my ear, and I turned to find him standing beside me in the aisle. I raised a brow, surprised that I had upset him enough that he felt the need to leave his seat. Still, who was I to deny him for such effort?

“By all means, my lord,” I answered with a grin, gesturing to the open space on my right rather than scooting over. Tywin’s jaw clenched at what he presumably thought was impudent behavior, but he shuffled in front of me and sat on my right nonetheless.

“You look lovely. Red suits you,” he complimented as he got comfortable. I smiled, knowing exactly what game he was playing.

“Yes, it seems it does. Perhaps I ought to wear red more often, it seems to have garnered quite a lot of attention from handsome young men,” I observed, gesturing to the knight who had offered me the rose as he left the field. I promptly tucked the aforementioned flower into my braids, and Tywin fought to hold back a scowl.

“You love to test me, don’t you, woman?” he muttered lowly. I bit my lip and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, whispering just as quietly in reply.

“As if you do not find it equally thrilling.”

He was about to reply, but the next pair of knights had just emerged and my brother was one of them. He was glittering in his beautiful armor, though I couldn’t help thinking mine was far prettier now. And to think I had ever been sad about the damage done to my previous pair.

The other knight Loras was going against didn’t look particularly formidable, and—partially based on her breath of relief—I could tell it eased Sansa. Though, I knew better. Even if Loras had been going against someone like Gregor Clegane again, I had no doubt he would win. My grandmother spoke truth: he was quite good at knocking men off of horses with sticks. 

Our entire group watched Loras intently. He was waving to the crowd, armed with his lance and securing his helmet properly. Of course, he brought over his own rose and presented it to Sansa. She blushed as her arm extended between Tywin and I, reaching for the offering. I was only too pleased at her perpetual happiness with my brother, and as Loras rode off and all else around us were occupied with Sansa and her rose, I gave Tywin’s knee a squeeze to say thank you. Tywin did not react aloud, but some of his jealousy seemed to dissipate, for his shoulders softened at my touch.

When Loras and his opponent took positions, I removed my hand from Tywin and instead leaned forward eagerly, desiring a clearer view of my brother, who was unfortunately on the opposite end of the field. His opponent looked nauseous, certainly aware that his first tilt—and likely his first tourney—would go down as a blunder.

The horn blew then, and we all watched as Loras took off expertly and—to no one’s surprise—unhorsed the lad on the first go. Then, much to the poor boy’s misfortune, his armored foot got caught in his stirrup as he fell off sideways. The crowd gasped as his horse damn near stomped at his arm. The animal itself—perplexed at the feeling of dragged weight and equally as spooked by the boy’s limbs beneath its hooves—broke into a panic, beginning to kick and then run. Before we could fully process what was happening, the horse began to charge straight at our stands.

I realized then that it seemed to have no intention of stopping or altering its course, and as the thought crossed my mind I felt Tywin grab both of my arms and lift me out of my seat, quickly dragging me into the aisle.

A mere second after I watched the boy and his horse crash into the stand, knocking over the small fence and destroying a decent chunk of the first row. The people around us, including Margaery and Sansa, had also had the sense to rise and move. Nobody besides the horse and its rider had been hurt, but I realized then if Tywin had waited another second to grab me, I might’ve been seriously injured.

Tywin was holding me close to his chest with his arms tight around me, one hand protecting my head. We were safe now, but his breath was nearly ragged in his chest; the situation had frightened him. 

“Tywin,” I said softly, making him realize and loosen his grip on me a bit. His hands came to the sides of my arms, and he gently felt up and down them. 

“Are you alright? Hurt at all?” He questioned, scanning my face for anything at all.

“I’m perfectly fine, Tywin. A little bit shaken, but fine,” I said, placing a reassuring hand on his chest. He nodded, looking around. Margaery and Sansa were right beside us in the aisle, hands over their mouths with shock. Ser Elias—who had previously been standing off to the side—was now ushering them to stand back a little. At the top of the stands King Tommen was looking on with concern, and for a moment I thought he would approach my sister, but he merely sat back down at his mother’s disapproving glance. 

“Have someone come and clean this mess up. No one sit in the front row, not until the fence is fixed. Stand on the sidelines if you must,” Tywin called out, fully letting go of me now and looking to the other nobles who had vacated their seats. I was certain more than a few of them were annoyed at the prospect of having to give up their spots over such a minor wreck, but none would dare protest against Tywin. 

I, for one, was surprised at the command. Even if the fence had come undone, only a small portion of seating had actually been damaged, and I could see no real threat in us simply sitting in another part of the row. I was about to tell him as much when he spoke once more.

“Ser Elias, see Lady (Y/N) back to her chambers,” he requested, turning to my guard. I looked between the two men, utterly perplexed at what had just been suggested.

“Pardon? Lord Tywin, there's no need for me to go back to my chambers, all is well now,” I said cautiously, wondering if I had missed something. I noticed that Margaery looked similarly puzzled, as did my own guard.

“You could have been hurt. I am requesting that you go back,” he muttered through his teeth, gazing down at me quite seriously. My face hardened, for I felt entirely patronized.

“Nothing like that is going to happen again, I’m perfectly safe, and the joust has only just begun!” I protested with a scoff, earning a look just as furious from my lover. 

“(Y/N), I’m not asking,” he whispered slowly. My face contorted with disgust, and I shook my head. I truthfully wanted to spit in his face, but aware that we had already attracted the attention of a few around us, I forced a deep breath and moved to take Ser Elias’ arm.

“Come, Ser Elias. Let us return to the Keep. Perhaps there I will be free of ridiculous men,” I told the guard casually, and all present heard me well and understood the insinuation. The two of us walked briskly away from the stands, and when we approached the path back to the castle I quickly stopped Elias and shook my head at him. I had no desire to listen to Tywin’s controlling demands.

“Let us go to Loras’ tent. Since I am not welcome in the front row, we will have to watch from the sidelines as Lord Tywin suggested,” I told the knight, twisting words to my advantage. He gave me a cautious glance.

“(Y/N), he gave me an order-”

“And I am giving you a different one! I do not wish to simply- to let him have his stupid way! He is always getting his way and I am not some dog to be ordered about! What he asked of me is stupid, Elias, and you know it!” I finally snapped, fully exasperated at Tywin’s childish behavior. Ser Elias sighed, putting out a hand to calm me.

“He does not mean to treat you that way. It was a foolish request, I will give you that much, but you were almost hurt. He is frightened… and he loves you,” he said softly, and I felt as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over my head. I looked up at him, wondering if I had just heard him correctly. 

“What?”

He only stared at me, and I sputtered for a response. He was right, of course, the fact itself was not what surprised me, but that he knew it.

“What, have you heard Loras and Margaery teasing? You’ve taken their jokes for truth, is that it-”

“(Y/N), I am your personal guard and I have known you since you were five. I’ve spent years watching you swing at a blonde haired dummy and even more listening to your vexed complaining about Lord Tywin. Your siblings are joking but I am not. Even if I didn’t know that you ventured to the Tower of the Hand instead of Margaery’s room—as you told your nightguard—in the middle of the night last week, I would still know the truth of your relationship with him. There is a reason that I sought him for you instead of comforting you myself when your father told you about that Frey boy,” he interrupted, serious in a way that I rarely saw him. 

I went entirely still, for I was forced to confront multiple emotions at once. Firstly, embarrassment at the fact that he’d heard about and seen through my lie about going to sleep in Margaery’s room, and also profound gratitude that he was who’d brought Tywin to me that day. I had never really thought about it, I had never asked. All I cared about was that I’d been suffering and that Tywin had appeared—that Tywin had saved me. But of course someone must have gotten him, how else would he have known? And of course, who else but Elias would have done such a thing for me?

“Thank you… thank you for getting him that day,” I muttered, folding my arms and looking away. Elias nodded, shuffling his feet a little. It had been some time since we’d had such a serious conversation.

“You’re welcome. I would have gone to you, I wanted to, but I- I knew it was him who you needed,” he admitted, and my shoulders sank as my heart broke in my chest. There was dejection in his voice that made me feel entirely awful.

“Elias…”

“I only wish you had told me yourself. I know and I have known but I kept hoping that you would tell me of it. I mean, when you were a girl you would tell me everything, whether it be what your septa taught you or what insult Loras threw. And when it came to boys, you told me that-” he paused, and we both seemed to flinch at the threat of a name neither of us wished to speak. “You- You asked me to take him to squire because you thought him handsome, and so I did… I- I worry now that I have lost your trust,” he admitted, head hung and eyes going glossy. My mouth fell open and immense concern took hold of me, for I hadn’t the slightest clue he felt that way.

“Of course you haven’t. Elias, I- what? In what world could you ever lose my trust or my affection? You are family to me, you know this. And with all that you have done for me, all the ways in which you have helped me…” I paused, shaking my head. “No, you have only ever gained my trust. I did not tell you because Tywin and I agreed it was best kept secret, for the damned walls here seem to listen. I have not told anyone, not even my siblings, but in all honesty I- I did not even think you would have wished to know. I am no longer a little girl, such conversation seemed immature and irrelevant at my age,” I assured him, reaching out and holding his arm. The very last thing I wanted was for him to think I did not need him; I would always need my knight.

“I certainly want to know, if not because you will always be a little girl to me and because I wish to hear all you have to say then for your safety. If something were to happen… if Lord Tywin- if he deigned to hurt you… I would fear you not coming to me in the name of keeping a secret. And I’m aware that since… since what happened you have been cautious in your choice of partners, but (Y/N) I must confess that having heard what Lord Tywin has done, having heard it from your mouth nonetheless, I am concerned and confused by your choice of company-”

“No. Tywin will not hurt me.”

“But he is so much older-”

“He won’t hurt me.” I squeezed Elias’ arm, and though he seemed eager to protest once more, he saw how genuine my expression was and softened. He waited for me to speak. “He knows what happened. Tywin knows he squired for you, he knows he was sent to the wall. He knows that I am still somewhat frightened of intimacy. He also knows how you helped me, and I get the sense that he is grateful for you as well.”

I sighed, letting my hand fall away from the knight’s shoulder and pressing my lips together as I lost myself in my head. Elias’ perspective was understandable, I only wished he could know the parts of Tywin that I had been privy to.

“I understand why you’re worried, we both know that Tywin isn’t a… a good man. Evidently he’s scarcely a reasonable one either,” I scoffed, gesturing back to where we’d just left from. Then I shook my head and looked at him earnestly. “But you know me, and I trust that you know I wouldn’t love him if I did not believe he saw how truly wrong his actions were, nor would I love him if I believed he didn’t care for me. There is another man inside of him, Elias, just as I’m certain there is another man inside of you when you are with Janna. I saw how happy you were when she and the babe arrived with Loras, and I thought of the night we arrived back here after negotiating with Robb Stark. Tywin was so glad to see me that night… and I know you will likely never get the chance to see how good to me he is, but I promise you that I am safe. It’s just as you said, I have been cautious in choosing my partners. He has earned my trust.”

Ser Elias and I merely looked at one another for a moment, and when he finally nodded I felt relief. It shouldn’t have mattered to me that he approve of our relationship, but it did. I valued his judgement more than my father’s.

“So long as you trust him, then I will as well. But if he ever-” he paused, jaw tightening. “I just want you to know that I am here, that you can come to me. It has always been not only my duty but my wish to ensure you are safe. You are so strong now, you have healed so much, I could not stand to see you deal with that kind of pain and melancholy again. That is all,” he said, pure care evident in his expression. I could no longer resist hugging him, and he instantly returned the gesture. His hands cupped my head, and I had flashbacks to getting scraped up in the training yard when I was first beginning, and Elias holding me just like this as I cried.

“If something were to happen I would not even debate it for a moment. I love you very much, Elias. I will always be grateful it was you who volunteered to train me first,” I told him, to which he hummed fondly. When I pulled back from him he wore a gentle smile, and I knew he was satisfied.

“As am I. Come on then, my lady. Let’s go watch from the sidelines,” he at last encouraged, to which I threw my head back with laughter and linked my arm with his. We laughed the entire walk back to the field, and eventually resigned to boisterous cheering for my brother as we hid amongst the crowd. It was the kind of joy I had not felt in some time.

Elias had been in my life for as long as I could remember, and the thought that he would be until we were both old and grey filled me with contentment that little else did. I would always have my knight, and he would always have his lady.

—————

Tywin was furious. 

He should have known better than to entrust Ser Elias with the task, for how could he not indulge you? When the rounds had been called for the day with the last few to continue the next afternoon, Tywin had returned to the Keep with full intention to apologize for what he knew was admittedly a rather controlling request. Of course, then he had discovered you had never returned to your room in the first place, and naturally—given how well your brother had done in the joust—there was only one other place he imagined you might be.

Loras’ tent had become a raging party. There were people drinking, gambling, dancing, and then, in the midst of it all, you and three random men chicken fighting. Tywin felt his fists clench at his sides, and he forced a deep breath as he slowly entered the tent. People seemed to notice his presence like toppling dominoes, and as they fell the tent grew quieter and quieter. Chatter stopped, singing stopped, the band stopped, and as he approached the circle of onlookers cheering you on, they fell silent as well. 

The man who had you on his shoulders turned a ghostly shade at the sight of Tywin, and almost immediately lost his footing. All four of you seemed to collapse like a falling tower, and though the men who had been partaking stared at the Lord Hand with fear, you had fallen into a fit of absolutely drunken laughter on the floor. Tywin looked around, outraged.

Ser Elias was sitting at a nearby table with a woman and babe—his wife and child, presumably—on his lap, and Loras was standing amongst the people who had previously been cheering and betting on the chicken fight. Tywin stared between the men, and then with a lethal calmness said:

“By all means, don’t let me put a stop to the festivities.”

All took it as a sign to move away from the scene and then resume low chatter; they understood well enough that whatever Tywin Lannister was about to say, he did not want overheard by all present, and they were more than happy to oblige.

Tywin approached you, still cackling and rolling on the floor. You were utterly shitfaced, so much so that you had not even realized his presence. He was momentarily so appalled at the sight that he thought to reprimand you, but evidently you had not been alone in this endeavor. He looked to Ser Elias, who had sent his wife and son away in expectation of the confrontation.

“You. You disobeyed my command. You were to see to her safety—instead she lies on the floor like a drunkard peasant,” he seethed, staring down the guard with all the fire in the world. Ser Elias opened his mouth to speak, but Loras was quick to defend him.

“Lord Tywin, it is not his fault. My sister can be-”

“And you.”

Tywin’s head snapped to your younger brother, still just as infuriated.

“You have evidently been encouraging this utterly stupid brawling instead of saving your sister from embarrassment. You have allowed her to make a fool of herself, to drink so much she is in this state. Yes, I am certain she gave her guard orders that contradicted mine, but you ought to have prevented this.”

Loras stared at Tywin, completely at a loss for words. Perhaps the older man was right. Perhaps your brother had also indulged you, perhaps he should have cut you off several drinks ago, but he had not seen you in months, and your spirits had been so high he couldn’t see fit to stop you. It had hardly seemed a sin—you had been enjoying the fighting, and presently giggling on the floor, it seemed you still were.

Tywin looked between the two men again, who seemingly had nothing to say, and then turned his attention to you. You had sat up, but you were humming to yourself absentmindedly and kept on repeating that you wanted dessert. Tywin scowled, reaching down and grabbing you by your arms. He pulled you up from the floor, utterly disturbed by both how long it took you to find your footing and the fact that you barely now seemed to notice him.

“T-Tywin! W-What are you doing here!” you exclaimed, clapping your hands together as though entirely delighted by this new development. Loras had to press his lips together and bite his cheeks to hold in his laughter. Again, you slurred, “You should dance with me! The band is q-quite good!”

“Enough. Enough of this. You’re entirely drunk and it’s late. I’m taking you to bed,” Tywin insisted, trying to get it through your head that he certainly was not here to entertain you. When you whined in protestation, Loras stepped forward.

“Her bed, Lord Tywin. Not yours.”

Tywin set his gaze upon your brother like a hawk, his jaw somehow hardening even more. It had been a smug quip, but it had turned the air around you all into something incredibly tense. A man lesser than Loras would have wet himself at Tywin’s expression.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. In fact, why don’t I escort my sister back. I’m not certain I should trust a man like you to-” Loras was nearly about to finish his sentence when Ser Elias grabbed his shoulder and shook his head. He whispered to him, hand on his chest to ease him.

“Leave it be, Loras. Leave it be. Lord Tywin will take care of her. She’s safe with him, you know it. Let him help her back,” he insisted, fearing this would turn to something ugly. 

Tywin was so furious he nearly thought to continue aggravating the Knight of the Flowers, but Elias’ words had done something odd to stop him. He both recalled what truly mattered right now and felt moved by your guard’s trust in him. 

Tywin glanced down at you now, and he was glad to find that you were off in your own world, fidgeting with the clips on his coat. He sighed, giving one last glare to Loras before placing one hand on your back and the other on your arm and beginning to escort you out of the tent. He was relieved once the two of you were outside in the quiet, taking the path back to the Keep.

“You should not have drank so much,” he scoffed at you, utterly exasperated as your feet dragged with every other step. You hiccupped and shrugged.

“Was angry at you… drinking was fun.”

Tywin had no reply to that. Of course you were angry, he would have been surprised if you weren’t, but this? This seemed an excessive reaction to what had happened between the two of you. He had been furious with your childish name calling, and perhaps he had downed a glass more than usual earlier, but he was confounded by just how much your anger had possessed you to drink. Tywin knew you to be an angry person—he did not know you to be a drunk.

“W-Were you and Loras fighting?” you questioned after a moment, finally piecing together what you’d just overheard. Tywin sighed again, leaving behind his previous thoughts.

“No, not truly. We were… aggravated.”

“About what?”

“Nothing. It was nonsense. Watch your step,” he said, sure you were about to trip over a small set of stairs. It was painstaking trying to get you up and over any obstacle, and he reflected that even if he’d wanted to take you to the Tower of the Hand, nothing possibly could have been less wise given your state. He wondered how you’d managed to get him up all those stairs after Loras’ wedding.

Bitterness—and admittedly just as much insecurity—blossomed in his chest. Did Loras truly think so little of him? Did he truly think he would take advantage of your intoxication? Tywin hoped not—he hoped Loras was only spewing insults in response to what Tywin had said. Your family did not know of your relationship, but evidently they had surmised something, and that they’d possibly drawn the conclusion that Tywin might be somehow manipulating or taking advantage of you did trouble him. 

Beyond that, it filled him with an odd sense of loathing. Tywin knew Ser Elias was aware of your assault, but he didn’t know if your siblings were. He gathered that Loras did not know, at the very least, but all the same the comparison made his blood boil. He was nothing like that vile boy. Not anymore, at least. He would sooner die than raise a hand to hurt you, nevermind what he’d done. Tywin swore it—if he ever found himself at the wall, the boy would die at his hands if the cold or wildlings had not killed him already.

“I want a slice of pie.”

Tywin’s thoughts were broken by your cravings, and he raised an eyebrow at you. You were nearly back inside the Keep, and he was grateful for it. This was becoming so tedious he would have simply lifted you into his arms had it not been at the risk of others seeing, for there was no injury to serve as an excuse this time.

“And what flavor of pie would you like?” he entertained.

“Mmm… raspberry. No, apple! P-Perhaps both. Perhaps I would like two slices,” you rambled, giggling a little as you did. Half of Tywin found your inebriation idiotic and cumbersome, but the other half found it entirely cute. You were wholesome like this.

“Once you are sober, I will ensure you get your pie. Is that acceptable?” 

You nodded happily and leaned your head against his shoulder with utter delight. If Tywin had known that the simple promise of dessert would make you so joyous and pliant he would have considered the bribe far sooner.

As the two of you began up the stairs inside of the Keep, you started to go entirely loopy. You looked up at him and held his arm even tighter.

“Tywin, you are sooo handsome. Have I t-told you that? I adore your b-beard,” you flirted shamelessly, reaching up to his face and giggling as you scratched your nails through his stubble. Tywin tensed, eyes scanning around to ensure nobody was near or had heard. He did not see anyone, but that scarcely meant nobody was there.

“Hush, woman,” he muttered, to which you huffed out.

“What? Y-You don’t want my compliments? Fine! I-I’ll shave your beard off while you sleep. S-See how you like it then. Hmph.”

Tywin had to take a deep breath in response to your ‘threat’. Thankfully you were almost back to your room, and after a few moments you’d forgotten about the exchange and instead resolved to simply sing under your breath.

Tywin was unable to resist a faint smile at your drunken humming. It was curious, for he found all of these traits so infuriating and disgusting in other people, and yet he found it endearing in you. Then again, he tolerated everything he found aggravating in others from you. Who else would have gotten away with calling him an insufferable cunt, after all?

Tywin finally arrived at your door, helping you inside the room as your nightguard opened it and allowed you both in. When the wood shut behind you, Tywin let out the breath he had been holding. Whatever nonsense you would surely utter was at least safe in here.

“Tywinnn, I want a kiss!”

Such as that.

He looked at you with exasperation, sitting you down in the nearest chair. He placed a kiss to the top of your head and then moved to fetch you a glass of water.

“That’s n-not what I meant! A real k-kiss,” you pouted as he began to pour. He did not even bother to look at you, as though afraid doing such a thing might set you off again. Instead, he only brought you the water and held it to your lips. You glared defiantly for a moment, and then you gave in, taking a few slow sips. Tywin set the cup down on your table.

“I am not going to give you a ‘real kiss’. You are quite drunk.”

“W-Why does that matter?”

“Because I have no desire to kiss you when you’re barely conscious of what is happening. You scarcely know what you’re asking me.”

“I know what I’m a-asking you! I could be asking far worse… you owe me after being so mean today.”

“Is that so?” He held the cup of water to your lips again. You drank and then kicked his shin defiantly.

“Ow.”

“Y-Yes! It is so! I ought to have you sink to your k-knees right now!” you insisted, pointing to the floor in between the two of you. Tywin gave a slow blink, unamused.

“And I suppose I’m meant to beg for your forgiveness?”

“Y-Yes… with your fingers and tongue.”

You bit your lip wickedly, and Tywin’s brows raised as high as they possibly could’ve at the entirely shocking innuendo. You burst into laughter at his expression, and he was rendered speechless. You’d discussed physicality before, but he’d never heard you say something like that, let alone so boldly. It was only when you began lifting your skirts with the same mischief that he snapped back to himself. He grabbed your wrist harshly, making you stop.

“Enough. Enough, (Y/N). You’re drunk.”

The tone of his voice seemed to break you out of your ‘sensual’ mood, and instead you looked up at him like a hurt child. It made his heart clench with a bit of guilt, for he hadn’t meant to be so rough, but he had no clue how else to stop you. For a moment he thought you were going to become emotional, and then,

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

Ah. He should have expected that.

Suddenly regretting the barriers he had put on your windows, Tywin quickly reached for the fruit bowl on your table and spilled its contents to the floor. As you began to gag he helped you off the chair and to your knees. He then handed you the bowl and quickly gathered back your hair, ensuring none of it was in your way. He pressed his teeth together with discomfort as you emptied your stomach. Truthfully, he would have been concerned if you hadn’t, and he was also somewhat grateful that your nausea had saved him from the puzzling encounter he’d just had.

“That’s it… good. You’re alright,” he encouraged slowly, placing a tentative hand on your back. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d needed to help someone throw up, if ever. It was foreign, but in some odd way it made him protective of you. He disliked your suffering, even if it was necessary. 

“T-Thank you,” you gasped out once you’d finished, eagerly taking the handkerchief he’d offered you and wiping your mouth—the action seemed to have sobered you a little bit, at least. His hand gently rubbed at your back.

“Come, let’s get you changed.”

Tywin helped you from the floor then, helping you over to the nearest bedpost so you could keep yourself stable with it as he reached to begin undoing your dress. At least, that was what he’d planned to do until he realized that he—in his infinite wisdom—had fashioned quite the revealing gown for you, and that you wore no shift beneath this. 

“What’s w-wrong?” you questioned, turning your head back to look at him. He licked his lips, faltering. 

“You’re bare beneath the top of your dress,” he stated, admittedly unsure of what to do now. You blinked at him a few times and then turned back around.

“I trust you.”

He stood there, entirely still for a moment. As much as he appreciated the sentiment, he hadn’t a clue what you meant. Trust him to what? To look? To not look? He swallowed, glancing around your room and walking toward the dresser. He cautiously opened the drawers until he found a collection of nightgowns, and he picked the plainest he could find in the unfortunate scenario that you should vomit on yourself.

When he returned to you, your forehead was leaned against the bedpost and your eyes were shut. He was forced to steel himself, not sure how easy or difficult a task this would turn out to be.

“(Y/N), I’m going to undo the back of your dress. Once I’ve done that, can you take it off and put on your nightclothes?” he questioned, hoping that whatever answer you were about to give was truthful.

“Y-Yes, I can do that.”

Tywin nodded, placing the nightgown on the bed before again reaching for your lacings and undoing them. As the back of your dress came apart, he could feel himself going tense at the sight of your back. You were beautiful. He could see the muscles beneath your skin even when you were stationary like this; he was in awe.

As much as he longed to reach out and touch the skin, to feel the expanse of your back beneath his palms, he knew better and instead gave a whispered, ‘Alright’ to you as he turned away. He could hear the shuffling of clothes, as well as small noises of frustration, but after a minute you announced that you were finished.

“You’re fully clothed?”

“What- what else would finished mean?”

Having to stifle a sigh, Tywin cautiously turned around and was relieved to find your dress and unnecessary undergarments pooled at your feet, as well as your shift on properly. You had successfully changed yourself.

“Let’s get you to bed now,” he murmured, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on your waist as he guided you to the mattress. You complied and sat down on it, but not without reaching to place a hand on his chest.

“I love you so much, Tywin. Y-You are so endearing with me. Even if you are still a cunt, sometimes,” you told him, smiling and letting your forehead fall forward onto his chest just like you had with the bedpost. He thought to be exasperated, but the sight of you leaned against him like this made him… warm. It made him gentle. Loving.

Tywin brought his hands up to your head, cradling you as he dropped his chin down and pressed his lips to your hair. He did not say anything for quite a long time, he only stood there oddly overcome with emotion. He was holding the whole world in his hands.

“I love you as well,” he finally whispered, allowing his own eyes to shut as he inhaled those incessant roses. Those wonderful, permanent roses.

The Lord Hand allowed himself to bathe in it all for a moment, to simply hold you in such silence, but a small hiccup from you reminded him what was important right now. He pulled your head away from him ever-so-softly, instead helping you to lie down on your side. He fixed your pillows around you just as you had fixed his all those months ago, frightened of any plausible choking on vomit. 

You stared at your lover with the dopiest, loopiest expression, and he was certain you were fighting sleep when you managed to speak.

“Will you s-stay with me?”

Gods, how he wanted to. How he wanted to stay and ensure himself that you were well looked after, that you were safe. It truthfully infuriated him that he couldn’t.

“No, sweet girl. I can’t,” he whispered in return, moving the hair from your face. You pouted at him like a child.

“Why not?”

“Because your guard will be quite aware if I do not leave until morning.”

“So just bribe him.”

Tywin couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped him, and he cupped your cheek before leaning down and placing a kiss upon your head. You seemed to forgive him in exchange for that, a content smile washing over your face.

“Sleep, my dear. I will have your ladies maid stay with you, and I will come see you in the morning.”

“With my pie?”

He fought to suppress a smile.

“Yes, with your pie.”

Satisfied, you finally closed your eyes and snuggled into your bedding, a hand under your cheek. Tywin’s jaw shifted as adoration once again warmed him, and he had to force himself to leave your side. 

He looked upon you once more from the doorway and then finally left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He turned to your guard, shifting uncomfortably.

“Have her handmaiden summoned to watch her sleep and a maester in the morning. She’s quite sick,” he instructed. The young man nodded instantly.

“Yes, my lord.”

Then, with disbelief at his own willingness:“And first thing in the morning, have the kitchens bring pie.”

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