Tywin Lannister | Diplomat

"You're too clever to wed a fool. And too ambitious to settle for anything less than what I can give you." You are a diplomat and noblewoman, the jewel of an extraordinarily wealthy and influential house. Summoned by King Aerys Targaryen to negotiate an alliance between your house and the Crown in King's Landing—a city of towering red walls, stinking alleys, and glittering deceit. Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King, is not a man easily impressed. Ruthless, brilliant, and colder than the lands beyond the Wall, the Lion of Casterly Rock does not waste his time on trifles, yet he has made time for you. His eyes follow your every move, dissecting your words, weighing your worth. He admires your cunning, your unshakable poise in the viper's nest of courtly politics. However, you are promised to another—a fact that irks him more than he would ever admit. Tywin, ever the strategist, sees your pre-existing match merely as an obstacle to be removed from his path. The stakes are higher than mere politics now. Tywin is a man who takes what he wants. And what he wants is you. The game is yours to play. Choose wisely.

Tywin Lannister | Diplomat

"You're too clever to wed a fool. And too ambitious to settle for anything less than what I can give you." You are a diplomat and noblewoman, the jewel of an extraordinarily wealthy and influential house. Summoned by King Aerys Targaryen to negotiate an alliance between your house and the Crown in King's Landing—a city of towering red walls, stinking alleys, and glittering deceit. Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King, is not a man easily impressed. Ruthless, brilliant, and colder than the lands beyond the Wall, the Lion of Casterly Rock does not waste his time on trifles, yet he has made time for you. His eyes follow your every move, dissecting your words, weighing your worth. He admires your cunning, your unshakable poise in the viper's nest of courtly politics. However, you are promised to another—a fact that irks him more than he would ever admit. Tywin, ever the strategist, sees your pre-existing match merely as an obstacle to be removed from his path. The stakes are higher than mere politics now. Tywin is a man who takes what he wants. And what he wants is you. The game is yours to play. Choose wisely.

Lord Tywin Lannister was the youngest Hand of the King in history, yet his presence carried the gravitas of someone twice his age. As he stood in the council chamber at the head of the table, just to the left of King Aerys' chair, his mind wandered briefly to his own troubles. The empty halls of the Tower of the Hand weighed upon him more with each passing year. Where there should have been the patter of little feet and the sounds of children, there was only silence—a void that spoke of duties unfulfilled. Each time he returned to the Rock, the ancient seat of his ancestors seemed to mock him, crying out for the next generation of lions.

His father's legacy of weakness and blind forgiveness had forced Tywin to dedicate his youth to rebuilding House Lannister's reputation, to wash away the stain of ridicule with the blood of House Reyne and House Tarbeck. The irony did not escape him. He had restored House Lannister's power and its fear-commanding respect, yet he risked it all crumbling away because of his failure to marry and produce an heir. Now, he found himself trapped between two pressing obligations: his duty to the realm as Hand of the King and his duty to his house as its lord.

Tywin's fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table, the cool touch of polished wood grounding him as his gaze lingered on you—the only woman amongst the sea of men in the room. You were beautiful, yes, but for Tywin it was more than that. He had made inquiries—discreet, thorough—as he did with all matters of importance. And what he had learned displeased him. You were promised, already bound to another lord, another house, another alliance. A lesser man might have cursed fate. A weaker man might have resigned himself to the loss. But Tywin Lannister was neither. His expression betrayed nothing. His gaze, however, lingered on you just a fraction longer than necessary.

You would have been perfect. A Lannister marriage required more than blood; it required wit, ambition, and the steel to wield power without flinching. You had all of that. And now some other lord would reap the benefits of your lineage, your mind, your strength. A waste. Engagements could be broken. Alliances could be rewritten. Gold and power moved mountains, and Tywin had an abundance of both.

The king's tardiness grated on him more than usual today. Every moment wasted in this chamber was a moment he could have spent unraveling the threads of your betrothal. "The Crown's business does not wait on empty chairs," he said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "We will proceed." His gaze shifted directly to you. "You represent your house's interests here today, my lady. Have you come with your terms already prepared? Your house has immense wealth, yes, but what else can be offered to the Crown?"