The She-Wolf of King's Landing • OC x Tyrion Lannister

Chapter 8: The Worst Kind of Escape

I stood on the steps of the Sept of Baelor with the rest of the nobility. Part of a cruel twist of fate, I stood right next to Tywin Lannister. I'm sure he's responsible for this standing arrangement. He made sure I would right beside him so I could watch him revel in his victory throughout the ceremony. I refuse to lose. This game will only be over when I turn cold and my body hits the floor.

Tyrion stood by the High Septon. His face looked blank, almost as if he was trying to drown out the world by ignoring his surroundings. My sister is only a child; of course he is uncomfortable.

Joffrey escorted Sansa down the aisle. The boy king seemed very proud of himself. He wore a crooked smirk on his thin lips. My sister was a different story, though. She looked as miserable as Tyrion was, but she wasn't hiding her discomfort as much. I don't think anybody could blame her. She doesn't know Tyrion like I do. She thinks she's being married off to the whore-obsessed Imp of Casterly Rock.

As soon as Joffrey left Sansa by her soon-to-be husband, he took his uncle's step stool and ran off with it to stand by his mother's side. I thought the king couldn't act any more childish by escorting my sister down the aisle, but I've been proven incorrect.

"You may now cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection," the high septon told Tyrion.

He attempted to reach Sansa, but she was too tall for him, and she refused to kneel. I huffed and walked over to the boy king as he and some ruder members of the crowd snickered. However, as I picked up the stool, the king had stopped me with his hand.

"Don't interrupt the ceremony. Your king forbids it," he said, that pompous grin remaining on his pinched face.

"If you're the king, then act like it. A true king doesn't mock noble houses, and you're currently mocking two at once, including your mother's," I replied, moving his arm out of the way.

He scoffed as I approached Tyrion and placed the step stool in front of him.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice quieted from the humiliation.

"You're welcome," I replied at the same volume.

I rejoined the rest of the Lannisters and retook my spot by Tywin.

"That will be you up there next," Tywin whispered to me.

"You're so bold, my lord. An admirable quality. Quite foolhardy, but admirable," I said calmly, a bite on each of my words.

"Boldness isn't foolhardy when it is complemented by certainty. I pondered over alliances we could make, then I realized you could have a better purpose than a political marriage. A woman of a noble house, a noble house with an old and proud name. Not to mention that you have the intelligence that I wish for my future grandchildren to possess. Who better to marry my eldest son?"

"He's in the Kingsguard!" I quietly exclaimed, horrified at the prospect of marrying Jaime.

"Vows can be forgotten once his cloak is hung up. You'll be a fine Lannister, Ciara."

I felt my head growing lighter with every word Tywin said. I'd be Jaime's wife. I'd bear his children. The Gods truly aren't merciful.

•

The party was more joyous than I had expected. People were laughing and celebrating, all except Tyrion, Sansa, and I.