Chapter Text
It was midnight when Lord Petyr Baelish came to me with his unforgettable offer. I had been upset about it too, for it was the second time I’d seen him in less than three days. One can only spend so much time around Littlefinger without going insane, especially at such a late hour.
I had been half asleep when he’d arrived, hunched over the table and trying desperately to figure out what offense we were going to take. Loras and Margaery had been with me, with him as my opposition and her as our mediator. My younger brother was mad with grief over Renly’s death, I knew, and so hungry for revenge that he could not stop and think logically. Margaery was aware of that fact too, and she was trying her very hardest to soothe him.
“Stannis approaches King’s Landing now, and we sit here and do nothing. The only thing we did was flee. We left for Highgarden and let Stannis claim half of Renly’s bannermen without a fight!” Loras shouted, joining me at the table and pointing his finger at the map with a sort of accusation. I sighed, rubbing my eyes and rolling up the sleeves of my nightgown. Both my sister and I were in our nightwear, but Loras had not removed his armor in days, it seemed. He had hardly slept or bathed. Which was unfortunate, because I dearly wished he would.
“Stannis would have claimed those men no matter what, Loras, we’ve been over this. It was not Renly they cared for, it was his just rule and his ‘claim’, which was never good to begin with. Would you have men die to put a corpse on the throne? There is nothing we could have done!”
“(Y/N)!”
Margaery gave me a somewhat disappointed look, and I knew it was admittedly wrong of me to mention Renly’s death so harshly, but what choice did I have? Being gentle had not worked with my brother, and I needed him to understand that as the head of the Tyrell army, my decisions were not to be questioned.
“It doesn’t mean that we needed to flee… we ought to have stayed and killed Stannis,” Loras muttered defeatedly, falling back into a chair and staring at nothing. There was an unmistakable hurt in his eyes. If I’d ever lost a lover, perhaps I would’ve known—or at the very least understood it.
I softened a bit and stepped over to Loras. I held the back of his head, running my fingers through his brown curls and leaning down to kiss his forehead.
“We will take revenge on Stannis, brother. I promise you that.”
Loras said nothing, but I felt him relax under my touch, and it seemed that my words had also soothed him a bit. I had not entirely worked out how we would take revenge, but that was something I wished to think on when I wasn’t entirely sleep deprived. Though, that would certainly be difficult to do if Stannis managed to take King’s Landing.
“Lady (Y/N), Lord Petyr Baelish is here to see you!” Ser Elias called from the other side of my door. He had been my personal guard since I was a girl, but I had forbidden him to join the fighting since his wife was pregnant with their first child, and needed him close. Now that we were back at Highgarden though, he was once again by my side.
Margaery and I gave each other a cautious glance, obviously both wondering what Littlefinger was doing here at such an hour. We had seen him right before we’d left Renly’s camp, and even then he had been going on about ‘wanting to help us.’ Whatever reason he had, it better have been damn good to intrude at nearly midnight.
“Let him in.”
Ser Elias opened the door, and sure enough there was Baelish. Gods, I would never be able to tolerate that man. He stepped into the room with an air of satisfaction, and it made me deeply uncomfortable. There were very few things I hated more than discomfort.
“Lady (Y/N), Lady Margaery. Ser Loras,” Lord Baelish greeted in his low, scratchy voice. I found myself giving him a curt nod, though I was utterly annoyed by and wary of his presence. His hands were folded in front of his stomach, waiting to deliver some news surely.
“Baelish. What brings you to Highgarden at such a late hour?” I inquired, not bothering to hide my annoyance. There was no reason to, anyways. The man had dared to call on me at this time of night.
“Ah, yes. I apologize for my late arrival. I’ve been riding since noon to get here. I bring news—or rather, an offer—from Harrenhal,” he informed, beginning to grin when my eyes went wide. There was only one Lord occupying Harrenhal right now, and the thought of him made my blood boil. “Lord Tywin has formally extended the offer of an alliance. House Tyrell has not declared for any king. Any living king, at least. I know that Renly Baratheon was rather… close to your family,” Littlefinger noted, glancing over at Loras as the insinuation slipped from his tongue. My brother was just as infuriated as I was now, and he rose from his seat with an overwhelming anger.
“You will watch your tongue, Littlefinger. If you wish to keep it, at any rate. You will not mock my brother and you certainly will not mock me by insinuating that I ought to be an ally to Tywin Lannister,” I scowled, my clenched fist pushing against the wood of the table so I would refrain from using it. Margaery had rushed to Loras and was trying to soothe him. It thankfully seemed to be working.
“Apologies, my lady. I did not mean to offend. Lord Tywin is serious upon this subject. I know that the two of you… have a rather troubled history, but it should not prevent an alliance between two great houses,” he said, still grinning rather creepily. I wondered if he was capable of being normal.
I shook my head vehemently.
“Nothing in all seven hells could convince me to go anywhere near that man.”
It was complicated—my relationship with Lord Tywin Lannister, I mean. For I was a firm believer that vows were a sacred thing, and not in the same, honorable way that Ned Stark had, but in a personal way. If one vows something to themselves, they ought not to break it. When I was 14 years old, I had made such a vow. And gods, even just the memory of what had prompted it infuriated me.
My father, gods bless his stomach, had been eating nearly the entire ride to Casterly Rock, even despite the tossing of our wheelhouse. My grandmother and I had watched him with a mutual disgust, pausing our conversation whenever he began to chew too obnoxiously.
My mother had stayed behind with Margaery, who was only seven and still a bit too young for such a long carriage ride. Loras, already 12, had opted to stay behind with Margaery so she would not feel lonely. I wished I’d been able to stay behind too, because although my father paraded this as some ‘exploration’ of my worldly knowledge, I knew perfectly well that it was in reality an attempt to find me someone’s son to marry. My grandmother had known this too, and I was grateful she had not let me come alone with only my father.
I was consoled by the fact that Casterly Rock was our first visit, though. History had always been a favorite subject of mine, and this of course included all the great houses. In my opinion, Casterly Rock would’ve been the ideal place to live had I not been from Highgarden. Of course, there was nothing that could ever beat Highgarden, with its ripe-fruit-smelling summers and expansive hedge maze. I could no longer count how many times Loras and I had chased each other through it with sparring swords in our hands. I always beat him, of course.
But Casterly Rock was said to be magnificent, even taller than the wall and certainly much richer. I wanted to see Lannisport, too. I was certain that I could find a more suitable sword for my age, as the nearby mines were not only abundant with gold. Because along with my immense studies, my grandmother insisted that I be trained in fighting. It had been allowed quite begrudgingly by my father, but eventually he came to recognize what so many had already noticed: My natural talent with a sword.
At 14, I was certainly no legend, but it was clear that if I continued to practice, then perhaps I would be. That thought had sparked much excitement in my mind, and arguably a bit too much of an ego.
Regardless, one thing was certain. My grandmother had promised me a new sword for my recently passed nameday, and I hoped to find the weapon in Lannisport. I could already picture its shiny iron blade with a golden handle.
These thoughts all disappeared when the wheelhouse began to slow, however. I immediately reached over toward the window, sliding the cover to the side and peaking through the gap. I instantly began to smile, looking back at my grandmother with unbridled joy.
“I know you’re excited, dear, but you must calm yourself. Lord Tywin won’t tolerate you acting giddy, the old fool,” my grandmother whispered, grabbing at my arm and leaning toward me. I laughed a little, nodding and trying to suppress whatever feelings I was having—even if I had no wish to be some perfect doting bride, my image still mattered to me. My head then began to swim a little.
Tywin Lannister had no face in my mind, he was the kind of man that nobody bothered physically describing because how he looked was of no importance. The Lord of Casterly Rock was ruthless, cold, and calculating. And apparently it had been even worse since his wife died. When I tried to conjure him up in my mind, nothing came. He would be blonde, I knew, with blue or green eyes. I expected his hair would be starting to lighten with age too, for he was about 51 now if my math was correct—which it was not, he was actually 55. But other than that, I had no clue what to expect. Surely a man with such a description and reputation would be tall, right?
Though, I was of the opinion that while Tywin Lannister could certainly be ruthless, he was no military genius. He had not even participated in Robert’s Rebellion, instead merely waiting to claim victory at the end and then marry his daughter to the new king. A lion ought to be brave, I felt, not cowardly.
The wheelhouse finally came to a stop, and I swallowed when the door was pulled open. Ser Elias had smiled at me then, and it instantly soothed my nerves. I was glad that he had come too, for I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. He was 27, approximately 13 years older than me, and for that reason he was like an older brother to me. Perhaps he was even like a father, for the gods knew I did not think much of my actual one.
Once my father and grandmother had exited, Ser Elias helped me down from the small steps and whispered ‘my lady’ under his breath. I was met with Casterly Rock in all its glory once I had stepped onto the ground outside. The Lion’s Mouth, or the entrance to the castle, was magnificent. And once we had actually gone inside my bewilderment only increased. It seemed that each room in The Rock was lined with gold, and that each hall must be grander than the last. Highgarden was beautiful in a natural way, but I had never seen such a display of pure wealth before.
I’d zoned out practically the entire time we were walking, and at some point I’d gotten so distracted by the interior that I had seemingly been left behind. I wasn’t sure how I’d ended up where I had, but either way when I’d turned around nobody familiar was there.
In an attempt to find my family, I’d begun searching the halls. They seemed practically never ending, and I was beginning to feel a deep panic set within me. I was trying very hard to be rational, but it’s a difficult thing to do when you feel utterly lost. My breath had begun to pick up its pace, and my nerves were now unbearable.
However, in this desperate attempt to locate my family, I stumbled upon an open door which led to a grand study. My breath hitched when I saw it through the doorway, and suddenly my quest was abandoned. I couldn’t have kept myself from entering, no matter how hard I’d tried, for something about the space had instantly compelled me.
With two large, gorgeous windows overlooking the sea, the room was filled with natural light. The red drapes were drawn open, and it went well with the stone walls. There were all sorts of things displayed around the room, from elegant portraits to shelves filled with books. There was a desk covered with parchment and candles, though it was all well organized, and I could smell the scent of hot wax coming from it.
But it was none of these things that caught my attention, instead it was the glorious sword placed above the hearth, its metal shining in the sun. I found myself wandering towards it like a moth to a flame. Staring at it, I realized it was almost exactly what I wanted in a sword. The blade was magnificent, and its handle was covered in gold. There were designs of lions—which made quite a lot of sense—accompanied by an elegant ornamental pattern, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen such intricate details on a weapon. The longer I admired the thing, the more taken with it I became. I hoped to someday own a weapon that people would want to stare at for this long.
My observation was interrupted by a sudden padding of footsteps behind me, and when I turned around I found a somewhat older gentleman walking into the room with two papers in his hands. He was holding one and reading the other, and it took him a few seconds to look up and notice me. When he did, he instantly stopped walking. His hands did not drop, but he observed me just as thoroughly as I had been observing him.
The man was quite tall, about 6,3 if I had to guess. His hair had some white, and so did his beard. The white was only in certain streaks, though, as if somebody had made a conscious effort to paint it that way. His clothes had also stricken me as odd, for he was dressed entirely in black. It made me wonder if perhaps this man had just experienced some sort of loss, for he was certainly dressed like a mourner. I also noticed that the fabric was expensive, and I felt confident that this man was a lord of some kind. But that was odd too, for no nobles had passed away recently. I would’ve heard about it.
“Who are you, girl?”
His voice caught me off guard, knocking me from my thoughts simply with its sheer deepness. My eyes widened a bit, almost as though I’d just remembered I was standing there and he could see me.
“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell, my lord,” I answered quickly, giving him the best curtsy I could muster in such a thrown state. I had no clue what it was, but this man had instantly captured my attention, especially with his piercing blue eyes.
“And how do you know I’m a lord?” he questioned, stacking his two papers in his hands and setting them down on the table beside him. I swallowed, nodding toward him—or rather his clothes.
“The fabric of your coat. It’s very nice. The quality is fitting for a lord,” I reasoned, and for a moment I expected him to look down at the coat. But no, he did not; his eyes remained on me.
“Rather observant of you. Why are you in here?”
“I’m afraid I got lost, my lord. My family- well, we were being shown around and I suppose I became distracted. I was attempting to find my grandmother and father.”
“And you ended up here?”
“Yes, my lord. I was looking at the sword- the sword above the hearth.”
I motioned to the weapon above the fireplace and turned to look at it again. The older man finally tore his eyes away from me and observed the blade with me. He nodded slowly with a contemplative ‘hm’ as he did. He was hard to read, and I didn’t like that, for I seldom struggled to read people this way.
“That sword belonged to my father,” he revealed, walking over and standing beside me as we looked up at it. An air of parchment and wax—along with the scent of expensive oils—came from him, and I knew instantly that this man spent hours upon hours at his desk. Was this his office? Realizing he had just mentioned that the sword belonged to his father, I made the connection. I was speaking to Tywin Lannister, surely.
I looked at him again, and I realized that while I had predicted the strands of white in his hair, and the blue eyes, I had not expected him to be anything like this. Yes, some of his questions towards me had been rash and rather curt, but the man had just found a girl in his office. Why shouldn’t he be a bit alarmed?
Overall, though, he did not seem to be the heartless man that everyone had described. He was no nicer nor ruder than plenty of people, it seemed to me. Although, there was also a possibility I simply hadn’t gotten to know him.
“It’s gorgeous. The blade looks masterfully crafted, and I’ve never seen such a handle before. I would give anything for such a weapon,” I noted with utter adoration. I was beginning to wonder how I would ever be satisfied with a small, simply detailed sword when I had seen this.
“You use swords?” he asked, a sort of bewilderment in his voice as he did so. I nodded, only hesitating for a moment. Going about revealing this sort of thing would make me an unattractive bride, I knew that, but deep down such a thought only motivated me to reveal more.
“Yes, my lord, I do. I’ve become quite good, too,” I added with a prideful smile. He was looking down at me, and after blinking a few times he glanced away and fixed his eyes on the sword once more.
“I can’t say I’ve met many noble ladies who know how to use weapons. I’m surprised your father allows it,” he remarked, folding his hands behind his back now. I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head.
“My father did not want to allow it. My grandmother wore him down, I’m afraid. She seemed to believe I had some natural talent for it—either that or she tired of all the trouble I was getting myself into and wanted me to expend my energy some other way,” I explained, which made him briefly smile. It had come and gone within a single second, but I had not missed it. Was I speaking to Tywin Lannister?
“And do you think that too? That you have a natural talent?” he questioned, raising his brow at me. I smiled with my lips as my pride took hold of me.
“I certainly do. My brother is only two years younger than me but he’s nowhere near as good. He’s better at jousting, I suppose, but it’s never really interested me,” I told him, not entirely sure why I felt so comfortable revealing such things to a man whose name I was not even sure of.
“I see. I have three brothers, two of which are far more athletic and reckless than I would like. The other is far more reasonable, and fortunately trusts me just as much as I trust him,” he informed, making me wrack my brain. I had paid plenty of attention during my lessons, but how was I supposed to remember how many siblings which lord had?
“Only brothers?” I inquired, hoping maybe he would reveal something more.
“No. One sister, Genna. She is far too much for me sometimes, but I care quite a lot for her regardless.”
Genna sounded familiar, I realized. Yes, Genna was one of Tytos Lannister’s children, and obviously so was this man. But was it Tywin or Kevan? It had to be one of those two, for reckless and athletic did not fit them based on what I had heard. Perhaps this was actually Kevan, for he had been much nicer than I ever imagined Tywin Lannister would be.
“My lord, may I… may I ask for your name?” I had licked my lips nervously as I’d said it, and it made me uncomfortable. I was not used to feeling nervous.
“Who do you think I am?” he replied, making even more dread fill me. He had this sort of testing look in his eyes, and I could tell he was utterly intrigued by what I would say next.
“You are a son of Tytos, I know that much. But I- I can’t quite figure- are you the Lord Kevan Lannister?” I finally asked, attempting to dance around it but deciding that I ought to just say it. The man somehow showed absolutely no reaction to my guess.
“No, I am not.”
It was all he said, and I knew then that I was in fact speaking to Tywin Lannister. Even more nerves filled me, somehow. He was the same man I’d been talking to for the last ten minutes or so, but that name was so… well, how is one supposed to feel when they’re talking to Tywin Lannister?
“Apologies, Lord Tywin. I thought that perhaps… well, it was between you and Kevan,” I attempted to explain, although I didn’t want to outright say that he was ‘too nice’ to be the man I’d heard of.
“No need to apologize, Lady Tyrell,” he said genuinely, helping me relax just a little bit. I nodded, looking around because I feared that meeting his eyes right now might make my cheeks go hot. Noticing a map laid out on a table, I decided to avert my attention to that. It was huge, and showed all of Westeros.
Lord Tywin seemingly noticed my interest, for he took a few steps toward it and motioned for me to join him. I did so wordlessly, admiring all the details of it. Of course, I knew quite well all the different parts of each kingdom, but there was a level of detail on this map that I had never seen before.
“Is it just swords that interest you, or battle too?” he wondered aloud, observing my reaction to the map. Standing over it made me feel like a strategist, and I couldn’t resist the urge to lean over it, my hands planted firmly on the table.
“Battle too. I’ve always liked history… I suppose being good with swords and enjoying history naturally leads to that. I hope- I hope that my father will make me the head of the Tyrell army once I’m old enough. It ought to go to my brother, but…” I trailed off, sighing. It was probably a hopeless dream unless my grandmother managed to persuade the man.
“Perhaps you’re more well suited for it. If you’ve studied battle and are better with a sword than he is, the role ought to go to you.”
“Even though I’m a woman?”
“I’ve found that women often make much better decisions than men do. My wife… I frequently sought her advice. Hers and Kevans. If your father is smart, he’ll choose a qualified child to lead his armies. The worst thing you can do is put an incompetent person in charge of one, especially when it’s as large as yours,” Lord Tywin said, making a glimmer of hope emerge inside of me. Did he truly think that? Tywin Lannister was nothing like everyone made him out to be.
“I suppose it’s the only thing I truly want. This trip is entirely for the purpose of marrying me off to some first son or other… but I- well, I can’t say that interests me very much,” I explained to him, unable to resist a sigh. If I had been born a man there wouldn’t have been any doubts.
“I see. Tell me, Lady Tyrell, if you were commander of the Tyrell army, what would you do?” he questioned, perhaps wondering if there was some grand reason that I desired to be in charge so badly.
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t do what you did during Robert’s Rebellion,” I jested, though the moment that it came out of my mouth I regretted it. Something in Lord Tywin instantly changed, and suddenly he wasn’t the man I had been conversing with. His eyes had both darkened and narrowed, and his posture had gone stiff.
“And do what instead? You would’ve had me take Aerys' side just as your father did?” he asked, clearly insulting the fact that my family had stayed loyal to the Targaryens. I scowled despite the fact that I did wish my father would’ve chosen Robert’s side. It was not as if Lord Tywin deserved a say.
“At least my father took a side. Meanwhile, you remained at Casterly Rock waiting to see who would emerge victorious so you wouldn’t look foolish no matter what the outcome,” I scoffed, suddenly becoming defiant. Who was this man to think that somehow everything he did was perfectly normal and acceptable even when it was not? Who was he to think that the codes of honor and war weren’t applicable?
“Tell me this, girl, why should I have involved myself in a war that started because Rhaegar Targaryen decided to behave stupidly? Was I supposed to feel some sense of duty to Lyanna Stark? She was a girl no older than you, and yet you seem to believe that somehow I should’ve been eager to call the banners,” he scoffed, his voice low and warning. I wondered if I was the first person to challenge him upon this subject.
“I am not suggesting that you ought to have been eager, but you should have done it regardless,” I reprimanded, my face growing increasingly hot. I wanted to calm myself, but this man had become infuriating in a way I was unfamiliar with. He was difficult. He spoke as though he was all knowing and I was some stupid, clueless child. I was nothing like that.
“Again, I ask you, would you have had me side with Aerys? The man who insulted my wife repeatedly, named my eldest son to the kingsguard, and refused to marry our children? Not to mention the insanity that gripped him in his later years. And why should I have joined King Robert? House Targaryen had reigned for 300 years, and there was nothing about Robert Baratheon that suggested his rebellion would be any different from the countless that had preceded it,” Lord Tywin explained, and there was a tone in his voice that suggested he was laughing at me. Well, Tywin Lannister did not laugh. Not anymore, they said.
But that did not keep him from mocking.
“If that was truly your opinion, then you ought to have simply not joined the war at all. But you cheated, Lord Tywin. If you hadn’t joined the war at all, you only would’ve been a coward. Instead you joined when it suited you and became a cheat and a coward,” I snapped with a sort of conviction. No excuse he would make might convince me otherwise.
“You are a fool, girl. If you truly believe that fighting in wars is honorable, I pray that your father never makes the mistake of putting you in charge of House Tyrell’s army. I did what was best for House Lannister. That is not cheating, nor does it make me a coward. I protected and provided for my family, just as any smart man would. And even if you are utterly stupid, I don’t believe anyone so dim-witted as to not understand that,” he scowled, taking another step toward me and towering over my frame. I was too confident and too self assured to be frightened. Not only that, but there was no hope of containing my anger now. I had liked being called stupid just as much as he had liked being called a coward. Though, a girl of 14 expresses that anger much differently than a man of 55. At least, one would hope.
“I am not stupid! You just don’t like hearing criticism because you cannot stand the fact that you aren’t entirely untouchable! I am not like the feeble men who quiver at your feet, Lord Tywin. I know better now, for the man before me is not the fearsome and powerful lord that I had heard so much about. You are nothing but a bitter and cruel man that somehow thinks he deserves respect. I assure you, Lord Tywin, that when I get that army, I will command it better than you have ever commanded yours,” I hissed at him, volume rising with my anger. In a matter of minutes, the man who I had originally believed to be Kevan Lannister was now the most disgusting person I’d ever met. It somehow infuriated me even further that he had deceived me in that way, for I had been vulnerable in front of this awful man. It was a lesson, I supposed.
“Get. Out.”
Those two words were the only thing that came from him, but there was clearly an even deeper anger inside of him. I could see it in his blue eyes, now having turned to utter ice. He was clearly unaccustomed to this ‘disrespect’, and it was a wonder that he held his tongue. He did not want to start another war over a 14 year old girl, I suspected.
Either way, I did as he asked with a final scowl and hot glare. I truthfully had no desire to see or speak to this man ever again, and I felt certain that our trip would be cut short. I was correct, of course. The moment that my father and grandmother heard of what had happened from Lord Tywin, they—and by they, I mean my father alone—apologized profusely. It was an awkward scenario that had unfortunately arisen because I refused to tell them what had happened.
I would never forget the carriage ride back to Highgarden. My father had been so furious he had opted to ride separate from us. My grandmother alternatively tried to be more reasonable, but it did little good to an angry 14 year old.
“I can admit that Lord Tywin is not exactly pleasant company, (Y/N), but I cannot understand what has infuriated the two of you so deeply. Both of you behaved like children if you ask me,” she scoffed, placing her hand over her cup so her wine wouldn’t spill as we hit a bumpy spot. I refused to look at her, only looking out the window. She grabbed my face then, forcing me to turn my head.
“My dear, if you refuse to make amends or at least apologize to Lord Tywin, your father is never going to make you head of the army. Even if I think that the Lord of Casterly Rock deserved to be told off for once, it has caused Mace considerable embarrassment. Show him that you aren’t just a little girl and that you’re mature enough to handle the responsibility of an army. It’s not just leading men that matters, my dear. It’s being able to find common ground, too,” my grandmother continued, taking another offense. I did consider her words, and for much longer than I normally would’ve when I was angry, but it still did not produce any major breakthrough for me. Not at 14, anyways.
“Be honest, Grandmother. All that father wants is to put Loras in charge. If I am going to do something to convince him that I deserve our army, it’s going to be on my own terms. I refuse to be like him, acquiescing to ‘better’ men. Only men can afford to be weak in this world, and you know that. No, I will not apologize to or compromise with Lord Tywin,” I said, huffing out with a sort of determination. A fire came into my eyes then, and even if I had not noticed it, my grandmother certainly had. “In fact, I will take it a step further. Not only do I refuse to apologize to that insufferable cunt, but I vow, grandmother. I vow that I will hate Tywin Lannister for the rest of my life.”
My grandmother remained silent in response to my claim, and when I realized that she was not going to reply, I merely sighed and looked out the window once more. She may have thought I was being dramatic in my anger, but I knew that my statement was truthful. I would hate that man until my dying day, and there was nothing that would ever change that.