Game of Thrones: The Storm

S3E1 - Valar Dohaeris

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As days lingered on, the inescapable feeling that Tywin was doing everything in his power to lessen your influence on Joffrey, pressed heavy on your shoulders.

You had to at least talk to the old Hand to see if there was anything that you could do in order to maybe strike some sort of faith, but you knew it would take more than one conversation. There was also the fact that Tyrion had tried to talk to his father the day before and was met with hostility when Tyrion brought up being heir to Casterly Rock.

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You hesitantly raised your hand to knock on the tower of the Hand's door, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth before you finally followed through with your actions.

After knocking three times you heard Tywin's voice on the other side telling you that it was alright for you to come in. When you opened the door, he never looked up from the parchment of paper that he was writing on.

Your eyes fell to the floor as you slowly closed the door and made your way over to his desk. Warning alarms in your head yelled at you to just turn around and run back out, but you knew better than to show fear to this man.

"Lord Tywin. I was hoping I could have a word," you mustered up a courageous front in hopes to seem less intimidated.

"Of course... my lady," he spoke with a tinge of resentment when he mentioned your title as a lady.

"Seems strange, doesn't it? Last time you seen me, I was just a little bastard," you smirked a little, deciding to sit down in the chair in front of his desk.

"Did I say you could sit there?"

Your eyes snapped back up to him as he had stopped writing and was now staring at you, his hands intertwined with each other on the desk. You never faltered your gaze as your eyelids started to fall heavy, your expression growing more challenging the longer you both sat there.

"I suppose you didn't," you huffed before standing back up and looking down at him.

"Please, have a seat," he offered, the corners of his mouth hinting at a smirk as your eye twitched in irritation.

"I'm not playing this game... respectfully, my lord."

"You started 'playing this game' the moment my grandson stupidly decided to naturalize his older bastard sister and make her Master of Laws even though you have absolutely no qualifications for the position," Tywin ranted on as he stood up, not liking that you were talking down to him.

"Everything I have ever done has been in the service of my father and his house, which is now Joffrey's. I promised my father that I would help Joffrey become a feared King and Lord Stark would make him a fair King," you countered as Tywin slowly began walking around his desk.

"Seems like you did a better job than the beheaded Lord Stark," Tywin began as he turned his back and walked over to the pitcher of wine on his side table. "I always thought your father was a fool. The arrogant and meathead King Robert Baratheon."

Your fists balled at your side as Tywin continued to talk, staring at the back of his head as he poured two glasses of wine. When he turned back around, he handed you one of them.

Resentfully, you took the glass of wine as he walked back over to his side of the desk. Tyrion had always told you that his father rarely drank wine unless it was a special occasion, and he never drank wine if he was working.

"However, the smartest thing your father did was send you away to Astapor," Tywin sat back down as he continued to talk. "They say the Unsullied are some of the best soldiers in the world. They don't fear, they don't want, they just follow orders and are loyal to their Masters. Assuming you have some of those traits, you would have made for an excellent Kingsguard... if you were a man. But a male bastard being charged with the protection of the trueborn heirs would have been more of a risk."