#lannister reader

Yay, my second request for him! Hope you like it!

CW: Female reader, mentions of death, obsessive thoughts. Reader's afraid of him at first, consensual sex

Warnings: Incestuous themes, Attempted sexual assault, Emotional abuse, Obsessive behavior, Gaslighting, Trauma/PTSD, Familial conflict, Mentions of suicidal ideation, Power imbalance

Summary ~ The North rode to war. But not only for vengeance. For love. For a queen once sent away like a pawn, now a wolf in lion’s skin. At her side, a husband who would tear the world apart to protect her. Before her, a brother who would burn it all just to drag her home. The game of thrones had never seen such a reckoning.

part 1

They called it an honor.

A symbol of unity, Robert had said, wine-stained and wistful. Baratheon and Stark, tied by marriage at last, not through him and Lyanna, but through you and Robb Stark.

You were to be a gift. A golden daughter sent North to melt the snow and seal the rift between two great houses.

A Baratheon bride for a Stark son.

Whispers followed you the whole way to Winterfell. About your beauty, your surprising kindness to the small folk, your family, your mother, and your brother. About what kind of girl it took to survive the Red Keep and still smile.

Your cloak was crimson and lined with fox fur. Your boots had never touched snow until that day.

The wind bit your cheeks like it meant to carve out the lion in you. But you smiled through it all.

When Lord Stark and his family came to greet you, you curtsied with perfect grace. Spoke softly. Offered Lady Stark a southern hairpin inlaid with pearl. Gave Sansa a book of love poems and Arya a dagger small enough to hide in her boot.

“My brother says I’m always giving away things that aren’t proper,” you said with a half-smile. “But I never liked the rules.”

You caught the flicker of surprise in Lady Stark’s eyes. The North expected a Lannister to sneer at the cold, to disdain the stone, the modesty, the lack of gold.

Robb Stark greeted you with courtesy. Distance. Not coldness, but a Northern reserve you weren’t used to. His eyes, ice-blue like the rivers before spring, held none of Joffrey’s greed.

You didn’t know what to make of him. He was not the boy-king your twin had become, with his sharp voice and sharper temper. He didn’t demand your attention. He didn’t follow you like a shadow. He didn’t try to own you.

He simply... saw you.

That was almost worse.

You were a Baratheon princess by name and smile, by poise and calculation, sweet-voiced and golden-haired, a lion hidden within a stag. You smiled when expected, laughed where necessary, and played the perfect future lady of the North.

But at night, you lay awake thinking of your twin. Of the cradle he clung to you in. Of how he used to stroke your hair when you cried, before his hands became weapons. Of how the boy who once guarded you from nightmares had become the very thing you feared.

He was your brother. Your mirror. Your curse.

And yet, in the North, things began to shift.

You walked the courtyard each morning, offering kind words to stablehands and serving girls. You took to the kitchens to help bake bread for the poor. You joined Maester Luwin in tending to the sick when the cold of the Noth bit too deep. You gave your fine silks to girls who had never touched such luxury, and stitched woolen cloaks for children, acts of quiet kindness wrapped in warmth.

You walked the muddy streets of the village beyond Winterfell’s walls, baskets in your arms, smile soft and genuine. You brought spiced broth to the coughing, sat with a widowed woman who could no longer speak, and taught the village girls how to sign their names.

You gave honey to children. Blankets to beggars. And time - time to people no one had spoken to in years.

“Why?” Arya asked you once, watching as you tied a cloak around a shivering boy’s shoulders.

You smiled. “Because no one else will.”

“But you’re a princess.”

“All the more reason.”

Whispers started. The lion girl with a heart. The Lannister with a gentle tongue and sharper eyes. Lady Sweet. The Gentle Princess. Some mocked you. Most did not.

And Robb Stark watched.

At first, from a distance. Then, closer.

He accompanied you once to the village, unarmored, cloaked in grey. You handed out salted pork, he mended a broken fence. You laughed at how bad he was with nails, and he rolled his eyes at how you bribed children with honey.

He began walking with you after dinners, his cloak brushing yours in the cold. You spoke of court life and old songs, you teased him gently, and he rose to it like dawn to ice.

There was a steadiness to him - a quiet strength. Not like your mother, who dazzled. Not like Joffrey, who demanded. Robb... endured. Chose. Held people at a distance until they mattered.

And soon, you mattered.

At first, it was his eyes lingering longer at meals. The way he smiled more easily when you entered a room. Then it was his presence beside you in the kitchens, helping knead dough with flour-dusted fingers. His quiet admiration as you soothed a frightened child. His small glances that held more than words.

One afternoon, you arrived with a wounded bird in your hands, its wing broken from a hawk’s dive. You cradled it gently, brought it to the maester, and returned the next day to check its bandages.

“You have a habit of saving things,” Robb murmured beside you.

“Is that a bad habit?”

“No,” he said, voice low. “Just a dangerous one.”

You understood what he meant.

Because the more time you spent in Winterfell, the harder it became to pretend your twin’s shadow wasn’t still wrapped around your spine. You dreamed of him some nights - reaching for your wrist, whispering your name like a prayer and a curse.

You didn’t hate him.

How could you hate the boy who once curled beside you during storms? Who used to cry when you bled? Who would kill for you?

But you feared him. And you were learning that fear and love makes a cruel knot. One that strangles slowly.

Still, in Winterfell, the cold softened. A different warmth took root.

The way Robb watched you when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he didn’t ask for your past, only offered you a future.

“You’re not what I expected,” he once said.

You smiled, tired but real. “Neither are you.”

The cold Northern wind didn’t press in on your ribs or cling to your skin like secrets. It didn’t stifle.

It breathed.

It felt like something new. Like space. Like choice.

Warnings: Incestuous themes, Attempted sexual assault, Emotional abuse, Obsessive behavior, Gaslighting, Trauma/PTSD, Familial conflict, Mentions of suicidal ideation, Power imbalance

Summary ~ The North rode to war. But not only for vengeance. For love. For a queen once sent away like a pawn, now a wolf in lion’s skin. At her side, a husband who would tear the world apart to protect her. Before her, a brother who would burn it all just to drag her home. The game of thrones had never seen such a reckoning.

Cersei Lannister had never known fear. Not as a girl. Not as queen.

But the fear in her daughter’s eyes made something cold settle in her bones.

She had watched it build for years, subtly at first, too subtle to name. A stiffness in your shoulders when her son Joffrey entered the room. A flicker of dread when his voice rose. The way you flinched when his hand lingered too long on your wrist.

Joffrey adored you the way wildfire adored air, greedy, volatile, all-consuming. He followed you like a shadow, lashing out at anyone who dared steal your attention. Once, he threatened to have a maid whipped for gifting you a necklace he hadn’t chosen himself.

The day you were born, screaming beside him in the birthing bed, he’d reached for you with blood-slicked fingers and wrapped them tight around your wrist. Even then, especially then, he refused to let you go.

The maesters cooed. Inseparable already, they said. He’ll protect her.

Cersei had believed them. She’d thought it was beautiful.

Twins, just like her and Jaime , golden, perfect, entwined. She imagined you growing into mirrors of herself and her brother: two halves of a single will. Consuming, yes, but in a way that made you strong.

But Jaime’s love had steadied her. Joffrey’s love unmade you.

Where Jaime made her feel chosen, Joffrey made you feel trapped.

As the children grew, so did the darkness in Joffrey’s gaze. He was a boy-king in waiting, and cruelty became his favorite toy. With you, his obsession sharpened, possessive, paranoid, unrelenting.

You tried to hide it. The fear, the discomfort, the quiet desperation. But you were your mother’s daughter. And Cersei had worn masks long enough to know when one was cracking.

One evening, she found you alone on the balcony of Maegor’s Holdfast, staring down at the jagged rocks below. You weren’t crying. You didn’t cry anymore.

She stepped beside you in silence.

“You fear him,” she said at last, barely above a whisper.

You didn’t answer. But your fingers tightened around the railing like it was the only thing anchoring you to the world.

Later that week, she hadn't meant to pass through the eastern corridor but something in her blood pulled her there. Near the old library, where the guards had grown sparse, she heard it.

“No. Joffrey, no please, I don’t want—”

Your voice muffled, breathless. Pleading.

Cersei’s blood froze.

She turned the corner and saw him.

Joffrey had you pinned against a stone pillar, one arm braced on either side of your head, his face far too close to yours. Your hands pressed weakly against his chest. The top of your dress was torn. He had begun unlacing his breeches.

His voice was low and vicious. “Stop pretending you don’t feel it too. We were born together. You’re mine. You always have been.”

“Joffrey, don’t—” Your voice cracked.

He grabbed your wrist.

Cersei moved. Instinct. Rage. Love.

“Let. Her. Go.”

It wasn’t a queens’s voice. It wasn’t even a mother's.

It was a lioness’s snarl.

Joffrey turned, startled, a boy caught with blood on his hands.

“She’s mine,” he said, almost bewildered. “She’s my twin—”

Cersei strode forward, seized his arm, and tore it from yours. Her other hand struck his face , sharp, fast, final.

He staggered back, more from shock than pain.

“You are her brother,” she hissed. “Act like it , or I will see you caged before your crown ever touches your brow.”

Cersei didn’t look at him again. She took your hand and led you away.

When Robert summoned her days later, she didn’t send a servant in her place. She listened.

He was drunk, as always, slouched in his chair with wine in his beard. But there was clarity beneath the bloat, old ghosts stirring.

“I’ve been speaking with Ned,” he slurred. “He has a boy. Robb. Good lad. Strong. Quiet. Reminds me of Ned… back when we still had dreams.”

He drained his cup. “We should send our girl north. Make a match. Stark and Baratheon, bound just like we were supposed to just like Lyanna and i were spupposed to .”

Cersei said nothing.

Later, Jaime found her in her solar, standing at the window, Robert’s letter limp in her hand like venom.

“She’s not going,” she said before he could speak.

Jaime leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You haven’t told him that yet.”

Cersei turned, eyes sharp. “Told who?”

She played dumb. But they both knew who he meant.

Joffrey. And the storm his fury would bring.

Jaime didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Cersei set the letter down like it might bite her.

“I think you should say yes,” Jaime said softly.

Silence. The kind that cracked porcelain.

“You’d send her to wolves?” she hissed. “To snow and cold and Stark sons?”

“She won’t survive here,” Jaime said. Quiet. Steady. “Not if you keep pretending you don’t see it.”

Her mouth tightened.

“I see it,” she rasped.

“Then stop lying to yourself.”

She turned away. “She’s my daughter.”

“She’s our daughter.”

“And he’s our son!”

The words were louder than she meant. Louder than she could bear.

Jaime stepped toward her.

“I know he is.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, as if to keep something from spilling out.

“She was always his,” she whispered. “Even in the cradle. He’d reach for her first. Say her name before ‘mama’ or ‘papa.’ I thought it was sweet. I thought he’d protect her.”

“So did I.”

“I love him.”

“I know.”

“I love her.”

“I know that too.”

“He’ll hate me.”

“Let him.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Twins, like us. That’s what I told myself. I thought they’d be like us.”

Jaime’s expression darkened. “They aren’t like us.”

“No,” she said quietly. “We chose each other. Whatever else the world says, it was a choice. But he… he would’ve swallowed her whole.”

And it hurt. Gods, it hurt.

To love two children born holding hands, and to tear them apart.

But what Joffrey felt wasn’t love. It was hunger. Obsession.

And if left unchecked, it would devour you whole.

So Cersei said yes.

Tywin’s response was cold steel. The court whispered. But Cersei ignored them.

Only one voice mattered. And it howled.

“She’s mine!” Joffrey shrieked. Eyes wide. Gleaming. Frantic. “You can’t send her away! She belongs here!”

“No,” Cersei said. “She belongs to herself.”

“She’s my twin!”

“She’s not your possession.”

“She needs me—”

“She needs to be free.” Her voice didn’t waver.

He looked at her like she’d stabbed him. Maybe she had.

But she would not lose both her children to the sickness growing inside one.

The morning you left, the sky was steel-grey. You didn’t cry. You didn’t look back.

Cersei stood in the courtyard, her fingers white around her cloak.

Joffrey didn’t come down. But she knew where he was, behind a curtain, high in a tower, watching you disappear.

His face was pale. His eyes were furious.

And something in him, deep, twisted, began to rot.

Cersei loves her son. But she also loves you.

OH ABSOLUTELY! SHES TYLANDS OLDEST DAUGHTER, HER FAMILYS PRIDE AND HER UNCLES JOY. SHES A VERY STRICT LADY WITH A FUN STREAK. HER LION JUST HAS CUBS, SHE GIFTS ONE TO HELAENA ALL WHILE SCOLDING AEGON TO STAND UP STRAIGHT. BUT INCE HE DOES, SHE KISSES HIM AS A REWARD. SHE REFUSES TO LET WHORES OR ALCOHOL TAKE OVER HER HUSBAND AND HE JUST STOPS COLD TURKEY BECAUSE HES SO WHIPPED.

Baelon: Hello beauty

Lannister Spoiled Reader:…. Bye * Goes away*

baelon: i made this for you.

lannister spoiled reader, reading her book and sitting with her lion: ....who are you?

That’s all I say

Pairing: Tywin x (daughter) Reader, Tyrion x (sister) reader

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Warnings: None…but it’s my first and it’s a little long… Eh, Tywin may be a little OOC.  

Summary: You are the youngest Lannister daughter and are struggling with your reading, so you get help from your brother, Tyrion.  Reader is six years old.  Mostly fluff.

Word Count: 3,582

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Tywin

Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, and previous Hand of the King sat in his study, pouring over documents and filling in signatures.  He hadn’t gotten any sleep the past few days, mainly because the fools of the Eyrie didn’t know how to strike a proper bargain.  Lord Tywin had never liked the Lady Arryn but while her husband, the true Lord of the Eyrie was away, he was forced to make political agreements and meet her terms.

There was a knock on the door, and he looked up, frowning.  Everyone knew not to disturb him when he worked on his documents.  It was either something important or a rather stupid servant.  He called for them to open the door.

The servant that stood before him was young and broad-chested.  He’d probably make a good soldier in a few years, but Tywin never took the time to learn his servants’ names.  This boy was no different.  He swallowed, and Tywin raised an eyebrow.

“My lord,” the servant began.  Then he stopped talking.

“Yes?” Tywin said, looking straight at him.  “You came into my study during a critical time, clearly you have something to tell me.”

Tywin could see the boy swallow away the lump in his throat.  His fingers drummed the desk, and he glanced at the tower of documents at the table.  

“My lord, it’s about your daughter,” the boy said, and Tywin’s attention was automatically caught. The boy couldn’t tell this though, for Tywin kept his same stoic expression.  “The Septas have been looking for her, but she seems to have disappeared.  They say she’s not doing well in her lessons and that she’s struggling with her reading.”

Tywin’s face hardened, remembering a similar experience with his eldest son, Jaime.  

“Very well, you are dismissed,” Lord Tywin said to the boy.

He nodded and fled the room. Tywin looked over at the documents. Y/N, his daughter, would have to wait until he finished the bulk of these.  He had a pretty good idea where she was hiding.  The girl had never been too good at keeping secrets.

As Tywin worked, he mused on his daughter.  He thought that his late wife was finished giving birth when she gave birth to Tyrion, but Y/N had come more than a decade later, a pleasant surprise for all of them. Tywin hadn’t expected to be a father again, and he worried for his wife, that her body couldn’t handle it, but she had given birth to a healthy daughter.  His wife had named her Y/N, though Tywin had wanted to name her after an ancestor.  Lady Joanna had insisted on Y/N though, so they went with that.

Tywin finished up his paperwork and left his office, ignoring the bowing servants and “milord”s as he walked through the stronghold.  He left the castle and went through the gardens.  Since he had told Y/N that her mother had loved the gardens, they had become her favorite place.  Sure enough, he saw her seated on a bench below one of the larger trees.

He cleared his throat loudly, and she turned to look at him with those striking emerald eyes –Joanna’s eyes.  His daughter was only six and as gentle as a hummingbird.  Her long golden hair splashed down her back.  Of all his children, she looked the most like her mother.

It was as if the child realized the danger she was in with her father’s arrival.  She jumped to her feet, smoothed her dress and curtsied before him.

“Good afternoon, father,” she said with all the bearing of a lady at court.  She knew her courtesies well.

“Why aren’t you in your lesson, Y/N?” he asked, cutting to the point.  It was true he was probably softer with her than his other children, but that was only because she hadn’t caused him nearly as much grief.  When a child misbehaved though, it was a father’s duty to correct that child.

“I don’t like the septa,” Y/N said.  “She’s boring.”

“I don’t care if you like the septa.  You’re learning to read.  Children outside these walls don’t get that opportunity.  Someday you will thank me for everything I’ve done for you,” he said. “Let go of your pride and do your lesson.  The house that puts the family’s name before its own selfish whims –“

“Will be the house that history remembers,” she finished for him.  She glared up at him.  “I just don’t like reading.  I’m not good at it, and I can’t do it.  No matter how hard I try, I don’t understand the letters.”

“You are not working hard enough,” he said.

“I spent two hours looking at the same page, and when the septa asked me to read aloud, I couldn’t do it,” she argued.  The girl definitely had spunk.  A Lannister needed that to get along in the world, but she needed to learn there were better times than others for it.  “All I do is stare at the page.  I know the letters.  I see the septa write them, and I can go through the alphabet.  The septa says my penmanship is wonderful, but when I have to read a word, the letters move around on the page and I can’t make any sense of them!”  

Tywin nodded, and she was quiet.  He had dealt with this before.

“Your brother Jaime was the same way,” he said.  “The maesters told me that he also mixed up the letters on the page.  Yes…I wondered if this would happen again.”

“And how did Jaime learn to read?” Y/N asked.  

A determined look flashed across Tywin’s face.

“I sat him down with the maester four hours each day,” he said.  “Which is exactly what I’ll do with you.”

“Father!” Y/N cried.

“Silence!” He cut her off. “Remember your courtesies, young lady. You will thank me for this.  A Lannister needs to know how to read! Jaime was angry with me too, but now he can read!”

“But four hours!” The girl looked close to tears, and for a rare moment, Tywin did feel something tear at his heart, but he was determined.

“A lady doesn’t say ‘but’,” he said.  It was something that Joanna used to say to Cersei when she argued with her.  “Go back to your lesson now.  I shall speak with your septa about the changes in your scholarly pursuits.”

Y/N’s pink lips quivered for a moment, and then she curtsied before her father and ran off.  Tywin watched her go, slightly amused, but slightly angry at her behavior.  Cersei had been much more rebellious, so he at least should have been grateful that he didn’t have to deal with that.  He didn’t particularly like upsetting his daughter, though.  She was the last thing of Joanna he had, and he was determined to give her the best life he could.

Being a father as well as a lord could be difficult at times.

Reader

At the end of your lesson, you were fuming at the septa.  Your head pounded and your eyes were sore from constantly staring at the page. You offered a short and stiff curtsy and then left as soon as the lesson ended.  You never wanted to see your septa ever again.  In fact, you would run away from the Rock and make your father miss you so much that he would find you.  That would really show him.

You loved your father like none other, but he could be stiff at times.  He was the proud lord lion of Casterly Rock, you reminded yourself.  He was held to different standards than the small folk.  Jaime supposedly had the same problem with words that you had, but Jaime got to run around and play with a sword, and then he got to be a knight.  Why did it matter if you could or couldn’t read?  Your father would wed you to a handsome lord when you were older, and you’d raise the babies while your lord husband signed important papers.

In your room, you tried to forget all about your lesson by combing through one of your dolls’ hair. The door opened and your father entered; the brush you used on the doll stopped halfway through its silk hair.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“The septa told me that you needed to study outside of your lessons,” he said firmly.  “Where are your books?”

“I just got out of my lesson!  I need a break!” You cried.

“Your mind is sharpest right after a lesson,” he said.  “Do you want to learn to read or not?”

“I don’t want to learn!” You snapped.

You had crossed a line, and you knew it.  Your father’s eyes narrowed dangerously.  

“You will read those books, Y/N, and I won’t ask you again,” he said in a low voice.

You shrunk back, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape your eyes.  You hated disappointing your father; he was your hero, but he just didn’t understand how hard it was for you to read!  You watched as he left the room.  You didn’t move for a moment, and when he was gone, you threw your doll against the wall.

You picked up the book and tried to read it, determined to show your father, but the more you looked at it, the worse your headache got and you found you just couldn’t do it.

You woke up with your face on the book.  You panicked slightly, aware that that was not proper for a lady.  By the sky outside your window, you knew it wasn’t time for supper yet.  You sighed with relief.  Then you picked up the book.  You didn’t want to visit the septa, but maybe if you just studied for many hours at once, she could get it all done and over with.  Hugging the book, you stomped past your broken doll and out the room.

Every step taken was tortuous.  You really, really did not want to see the septa.  What did that old lady know anyways?  Why couldn’t your father give you a fun teacher?  Maesters were always more fun than septas.

“Sister,” a deep voice suddenly rang in your ears.  “Does father know that you are wandering the Rock by yourself?”

Your heart stopped.  You turned and saw your older brother, Tyrion, standing there.  Even though he grinned at you, you felt a shiver pass up your spine.  She had always been more than a little frightened of him.

Tyrion wasn’t like Jaime or Cersei.  He was only slightly taller than you, but whereas you were six, he was a man.  His hair was as blonde as yours and his eyes as green, but his forehead was too big, and his arms and legs were too short. He wasn’t handsome in the least, and Cersei had told you that Tyrion had killed your mother.  Jaime had insisted it wasn’t true, but Cersei said that Tyrion had forced mother to care for him when he had a contagious illness, and she had died for it.  You hadn’t even been a year old, and because of that you didn’t have a mother.

“He’s a monster, Y/N, and monsters don’t show remorse,” Cersei had said to you.

You stared at your brother, fingers clutching the book.  You wanted to run, but you knew you needed to be brave.  He wasn’t really a monster.  He was frightening, but he was still your big brother.  Jaime got along with Tyrion after all.

“I’m going to the septa,” you said shortly.  “I’m learning to read.”

“Are you mixing up the letters on the page?” Tyrion asked in a dry tone.

“Um…” How did he know that was your problem?  “Yes…”

“Just like Jaime, or so I hear,” he said.  “Don’t go to the septa.  She’ll bore you to tears with her lessons.  It looks like she already has.”

“I have to learn to read so father will be happy,” you snapped, embarrassed.  

“Yes, we must keep father happy,” Tyrion said.

“I need to go,” you said.

When you turned away, Tyrion suddenly touched your arm.  You froze, remembering what Cersei had told you.  Tyrion looked kind of funny, but could he really be a monster?  What if you died because he touched you?  Maybe that’s why your mother had died!

“B-brother,” you stammered, voice squeaking.

“I’ll teach you to read,” he said.  “I’ve read a lot, and I’ve even stumbled on some of the histories of Casterly Rock that recorded other children with the same problems you were having.”

“Father wants me to study with the septa,” you replied weakly.

“Father wants you to learn how to read,” he said.  “Do you want to please father?”

You nodded meekly, and he smiled.

“Then follow me,” he said.

Your heart sank, and you imagined for a moment a maiden following a dragon into its lair.  Tyrion was no dragon; he was too small, but you couldn’t help but be scared regardless.  You frowned. Lannisters didn’t get scared.  You would learn how to read no matter what.

On the way to Tyrion’s chambers, he actually talked to you.

“Father rarely lets you see me,” he said.  “I remember when you were born.  I’ve never seen father smile like that before.  I suppose after me, you were everything he could have asked for.  You were a beautiful babe, and it looks to me like you’ve grown to be a beautiful girl.  You have mother’s features.”

How could he talk so easily of mother?  Didn’t he feel guilty?

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Father keeps me in lessons most the time.”

“And apart from the reading, how are those going?  Do you understand the laws of the land and the science?  I hated learning about the agriculture personally,” he said.

Before you could think, you said:  “I do too. I hate that part.”  You suddenly shut your mouth.  Had you just agreed with your brother?

“Ah, here we go,” Tyrion said.  “My room. We shouldn’t be in here too long, but I’ll teach you more than the septas will.”

“With magic?” You asked.

Tyrion snorted.

“What do you think I am? An imp with magical powers!  Is that what Cersei told you?” he asked. Cersei had never said that, but you couldn’t help but imagine it.  “No, if I knew magic, I’d make myself as tall as Jaime.  No, we’re going to learn the old fashioned way.”

“I won’t learn to read by supper?” You asked faintly.

“I’m afraid not,” he said. “You’ll have to come back each day, but I promise you I will make it much more painless than the septa’s ramblings.  You’ll be reading in no time.”

And then he pulled out a seat for you at his desk and took the book from you.  He laid it on the table, and a devilish smirk appeared on his face.

“Let’s begin,” he said, and you sat down, feeling your hands and feet shake.

XXXXX

You had been visiting Tyrion in secret for a week.  You were never told to stay away from your brother, but father also made a point of keeping you as far away from him as possible.  With Tyrion as your teacher, you were able to see improvements you never thought possible.  Even the septa praised you when you actually read two sentences aloud and only had to pause a few times.  Tyrion didn’t use magic, but he may as well have.

What really confused you though was that you were actually starting to like your brother.  What would Cersei say?  Perhaps Jaime would be happy for you.  Tyrion was kind to you and very patient when you made mistakes.  He was constantly egging you on, but in a way that showed he really cared.

“You know this word,” he said as you hovered over the same word for over a minute.  “You can do it…”

“D…R…G… No, that’s not right.”  The letters were moving again.  “D…R…A….Dragon!”

Tyrion applauded you, and you blushed.  You then read the sentence aloud:

“Aegon I Targaryen rode on the dragon Balerion in the War of Conquest!” Your voice went up a notch at the end, and again Tyrion applauded you.

“Wonderful!” He said. “Wonderful!  Can you read the next sentence?”

“Aegon’s sister-wife…V…Vis…Visenya mounted Vhagar as her steed.”  You glanced up at Tyrion, praying you’d gotten the sentence right, and by his smile, you knew you had.  “I did it!  I’m learning to read, Tyrion!  You’re the best!”

You kept improving, and you actually sought out books to try and read.  Most of them you couldn’t, but you could understand a lot more than you could before.  Four days later, you were in yet another lesson with Tyrion.  He no longer frightened you, and Cersei’s words seem to fade.

You had finally reached the part in your heavy book that spoke of House Lannister.

“Lord Tytos Lannister was the eldest of four.  He was named heir in 236 AC of Casterly Rock…” your eyes skimmed the page.  Then you gasped.  “Jason Lannister!”

“Hmm?” Tyrion asked.

“Jason Lannister was Tytos’s younger brother.  Tytos was our grandfather!  Jason was our other grandfather!  He was mother’s father!” You cried.  “Mother and father were cousins?”

“I thought you knew that,” Tyrion said.  “Besides, cousins are one thing, but the Targaryens married their brothers and sisters for centuries.”

“It’s like how Cersei wants to marry Jaime,” you said.

“Y-Y/N …” Tyrion winced. “I don’t know how you know that, but you mustn’t say a word to father.”

You stared at the page and your finger found Lady Joanna’s name.

“What was mother like?” You whispered.

Tyrion froze and didn’t answer immediately.  Then he swallowed, and he smiled in a way that made him as handsome as Jaime.  

“She was beautiful,” Tyrion said.  “She was my best friend, my champion.  She was always encouraging me to be better, and when I cried, she held me.”  He looked out the window, and you watched him intently.  “When I learned that dragons had gone extinct, I was a mess.  I cried myself to sleep…but when I woke up, mother was holding me in her arms and telling me everything would be alright.  She had a beautiful voice too…”

“Cersei said mother died while taking care of you,” you whispered.

Tyrion looked down at his hands.

“That’s true,” he breathed. “I was probably old enough to not need my mommy, but I begged the maesters to let me see her, and she came right away and cared for me.  She stayed by my side all night…and then…it was all so sudden…she was gone.”

Tyrion was a man, but his lip trembled like a child’s.  He didn’t blink, like he was determined not to let the tears come.  He was always so carefree, sarcastic, and witty.  You had never seen this side of him before.

You reached under the table and held his stubby hand.

“Thank you for telling me about mother,” you whispered.  

XXXXX

You found yourself outside your father’s study.  He would be finished with his paperwork in any moment.  You waited there, going over again and again Tyrion’s cheers in your mind. The door opened, and Tywin stared down at you.  You drew yourself up as tall as could be, but he still towered over you.

“Do you need something, Y/N?” he asked.

You nodded, but didn’t answer.  Without a word, you strode right inside his study.  You heard you father sigh behind you and follow.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked you.  “Have you finished your studies today?”  You reached up and took the first bit of parchment off the stack.  “Careful, Y/N, those are important documents.  They can’t be lost –“

“Lord Randyll Tarly…Lord of House Tarly…To whom it may concern…We are in the process of building a bridge to help ensure our grains come quicker to the capital.”  You looked up from the sentence and hid your smile. Then you continued, and you read the entire letter out loud to your father.

When you finished, Tywin actually laughed, and you felt your cheeks go red.  You loved it when you pleased her father.  You had seen his smile more times than you could count, but you rarely heard a laugh.

“You see, Y/N?  You are a Lannister!  You always had it in you!” He said.  “You’ve got quite the attitude, but I’m proud of you.  Keep up the good work.”  He touched your face but didn’t embrace you.  He was still a lord after all.  “Come now, supper is waiting for us.”

You beamed at him, and they headed to the dining hall together.

After supper, you returned to Tyrion.  You still had much farther to go, and the letters still got jumbled, but you were determined to work hard.  You recounted the story to Tyrion, and he laughed first and then congratulated you.  Then he hugged you.

Once again you found yourself pouring over the book.  You finished reading the paragraph aloud and looked up at Tyrion.  He was absent-mindedly playing with an ink bottle.

“Um…I have a question,” you said.

“Ask away,” Tyrion urged you.

“Well, it’s just about something that Cersei said.  She said that you spent most your time in brothels and that you had…what were the words she used?  …An appetite for whores,” you began.  “Tyrion, what’s a brothel?  And what’s a whore?”

I am sorry for not uploading more stories... it is hard to sit down and write story after story because if you want a good one you at least need 3 Hours... soooo... Here is a little "Fill Up" till my Assassin's Creed Fanfic comes up.. should only be one or two days more.. even though I am sure I've lost most of my followers... WELP! Whatever here it is! For a long time no one knew but Joffrey had a half sister. (Y/N) Lannister to be exact... she had the same strinking blonde hair as him an Tommen but (E/C) eyes that outshone even the brightest star. No she wasn't a Bastard... actually her mother was married to the king before he married Cercei and left her behind. (Y/N) never knew who her father was till she turned 16. He Mother decieded she was old enough to know now and tol her everything. And then the girl did something not very clever... she confronted the Prince and the Queen with this. At first they didn't belive her and wanted her head on a spike... but there was enough prove to save her from that fate. Cercsei never liked her... didn't want her in the Castle but Joffrey seemed to have grown fond of her and when he was king he took her back in and she finally was allowed to wear the Name Lannister... That was two years ago. (Yeeesh I know Joffrey dies but here he lives for two more years! Pssssht I somehow like this dude and I need him for the Story so...)

It came as a surprise to everyone... and I mean everyone as Joffrey suddenly announced the Betrothal between (Y/N) Lannister and Robb Stark. Why you ask? Because that way he can get a Lannister into the Starks Home, hoping he can controll them like that. (As if that worked... <.< ) This announcement came so sudden (Y/N) choked on her drink. Robb didn't look very pleased but he didn't look surprised eather. 'This little Bastard knew already?!' (Y/N) thought to herself. Even though the tought of Marrying a Lanniste made Robb cringe... (Y/N) was indeed very beautiful and the marriage took many good things with it as well. So who was he to deny a beautiful women with a strong influence? Of course he wished to get to know her.. she may be a Lannister but (Y/N) had a kind heart and he knew that... he wanted to make sure she'll be happy.

After the sudden Annoucements shock had sunk in she suddenly realized what the hell just happened. Saddnes started to grow in her head at the thought of yet another wall seperating her from the men she loved dearly... Her eyes quickly scaned the room searching for this certain men. This men of course was noone other then Jon Snow. After a few seconds her (E/C) eyes locked with his. The girl suddenly was at loss... what should she do? Just smile? Or start to cry..? But Jon was faster as he bowed swiftly and left the hall. (Y/N)'s eyes slowly started to get watery as she tried her best not to cry. As she then met Robb Starks eyes, he gave her a soft smile wanting to reassure her he won't hurt her. Not wanting to show her true feelings she gave him a small smile but tore her eyes away again.

The whole evening was horror for her. After some time Robb was allowed to sit beside her.. he even got her a ring which she out of courtesy, of course wore. Everyone congratulted them... everyone seemed excited about the Wedding.. everyone except for the bride. (Y/N) suddenly got up, earning a confused glance from Robb. "This is getting quiet Fuzzy. Would you mind if I'd excuse myself for a few Minutes?" (Y/N) asked politely. Robb nodded slowly. "Shall I accompany you My Lady?" He asked in a gentle voice, understanding the stress of the sudden situation she was in. "I'd like to have some time to think... I hope you don't mind." He only nodded at that and continued with the festivities.  What she told him of course was a big lie... she only wanted to go looking for Jon. But she couldn't really just say that, now could she? Luckyly she found him pretty quickly. He was on the trainingsfield, turning the target into a Cheese with all the arrows. She slowly approaced him but he seemed to have noticed her already. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be celebrating?" He said quietly his back still facing her. "If you are talking to me at least turn my way and look at me Jon." (Y/N) huffed annoyed. Jon slowly turned around but still avoided her eyes making frustrated. "What? You never gonna look at me again?" She snapped somewhat hurt by his antics. "He already gave you a ring huh?" It sounded more like a statement then a question. "Yes he did. And?" Jon shook his head at that. "Go back before they miss you to much." With that said he turned around to walk away yet again.

"Don't you DARE walking away again Jon Snow! I come here all the way looking for you so you better not leave me standing here!" (Y/N) Called after him. Jon stopped shortly in his tracks but then kept on walking. (Y/N) clenched her fists into her dress. 'Now or never..' She thought taking a breath. "How can you treat me like that? Just walking away and leaving me standing here... are you..- are you that blind to not see how FU**ING MUCH I LOVE YOU!?" He voice echoed around the field making Jon stop yet again. As the words fell from her lips his heart stopped for a second. But he knew... she was Betrothed to his brother and a Lannister and he was a Bastard and a Men of the Nights Watch... there were so many rules against his feelings and he knew how wrong they were... He snapped back around and furrowed his brows at her. "You do not love me! You are confused right now... but that's okay. No one shall ever hear about this don't worry." The glare she sent him made him flinch slightly. Of course she glared often but it never was meant for him... till now. "What in seven hells are you talking about?!" Jon sighed at that. "You are feeling confused and need someone to keep you on your feet but-?!" Jon was cut short by her soft lips on his. While he was trying to look for an excuse (Y/N) had stalked over and pulled him in for a kiss. Jon quickly got over his shock and pushed her away. "Have you gotten insane? This is-?!" Determited to show him how much she loved him she kissed him yet again. Jon was tempted to give in... but he restained himself and took a step away again. "(Y/N) stop this nonsense!" "Then stop running away from your feelings!" She hissed back. Taking a step fowards again she literally threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again. Jon could feel his heart beating... he knew it was wrong in so many ways and yet... he still felt himself kissing her back. As she felt him kissing back, (Y/N) smirked slightly and pulled back this time to look at him. "Jon, this is no nonsense.. my Feelings for you are no lie or caused throughtough any confusion. I Love you, truly." This time Jon surprised her as he pulled the girl closer again and this time kissed her. A soft gasp left her at that, which Jon used to slide his tounge into her mouth. Time seemed to stop and everything that mattered were Jon and (Y/N). But a sudden shout made both of them pull back startled. "(Y/N)?! Where are you?" A voice called. (Y/N) recognized this one as Joffrey. Unsure of what to do she just stood there when Jon suddenly pulled her with him underneath the balcony where Joffrey couldn't see them. After a while the footsteps faded away. (Y/N) let out a giggle as she looked up at Jon who still held her close. He looked paniced but after he saw her smile he started to tear up smiling as well. "You really are going to be the end of me..." Jon mumbled into her neck as he placed his forehead on her shoulder. "How so?" (Y/N) asked gently petting his head. "You just made me break around 4 Rules that could make me lose my head..." The girl kissed the side of his head. "I won't let that happen." She whispered in his ear. Jon knew what he did and he knew it was wrong and forbidden. But he also knew he would never give up on her... he couldn't give up on her anymore.. not after this everning. It'll get complicated but they'll manage it.. right? Jon let out a sigh letting all this thoughts go for now.. he can worry about it later. He then spoke in a soft and mumble to her: "How dare you just stealing my Heart, Damn Lanniter..." This earned a playfull hit on the chest from his new found Lover. He chuckled softly at that. "I Love you too... (Y/N)."