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The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl	By : White Glove Literature Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 27905 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own Game of Thrones nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Arya woke up early the next morning, sitting up in bed she stretched and turned looking around the room. With a frown, she noticed that Tywin’s half of the bed was empty, but she heard movement in the other room. Climbing out of bed, she stood and wrapped herself in her robe before walking out of the bedchamber and into the solar. Still sore from last night, she cursed Tywin under her breath but smiled remembering his proposal. She loved him with all her heart. There was no denying that. She couldn’t wait for their wedding the day after tomorrow. It’s was a bit rushed, but she didn’t need a big fuss. Just him.
Tywin was standing in front of an old wooden chest, lost in thought. At the sound of her approach, he turned, smiling and looking at her. “Come here, sweetheart. I’ve got something for you.” He said holding his arms out for her.
Arya smiled, running into his arms. Tywin hugged her against his chest, his left hand caressing her cheek. He knelt, facing her at eye level and kissed her deeply, before taking her left hand and slipping a gold band set with an amber stone, cut to resemble the face of a roaring lion onto her finger.
Arya smiled, tearing up as she looked at the ring before wrapping her arms around Tywin’s shoulders. “Oh Tywin, it’s so beautiful. Thank you.” She said as he held her.
“I’m glad you like it. It belonged to my mother. My father gave it to her on their wedding day.” He said, looking down at her.
“This means a lot to me, Tywin. Thank you. I promise to treasure it forever.” Arya said nuzzling his shoulder.
Tywin smiled and stood up, leading her to the sofa. Sitting down, he lifted her into his lap and softly claimed her lips, kissing her as his hands tangled in her hair. Arya melted into his embrace, his tongue probing her mouth.
A knock at the door forced the pair to break apart. “Enter,” Tywin called looking up.
Opening the door, the Royal Seamstress entered and bowed deeply. “I’m here to fit Lady Arya for her wedding dress.” She said politely.
Turning to face her lord, Arya grimaced. “Do I have to, Tywin?” She asked sulking.
Sighing, Tywin nodded, looking at her. “I’m afraid I must insist. It’s an important formal occasion. A tunic and breeches simply won’t do.” He said in a firm voice to forestall any arguments.
Arya stood and reluctantly followed the seamstress to her chambers, where she spent the next three hours selecting the fabric and being fitted for her wedding gown.
Eager to be done with it, she did her best to hurry the process along as the seamstress and her assistants tutted and fussed about her. Finally, she was permitted to go free while the seamstress added the finishing touches on her dress.
Running for the door, she raced back to the tower of the hand. Entering her chambers, she looked for Tywin. On a table by the sofa, Tywin had left her a note. Walking over she picked it up and read.
“Arya, I’ve gone to tend to some small council business. I’m sorry I can’t be there when you get back, but I do have a surprise for you. Go to the conference room you like to practice with your sword in. And please behave.
All my love, Tywin.”
Curious, Arya went to her bedchamber and fetched Needle before leaving her suite and exiting the Tower of the Hand, heading in the direction of the abandoned conference room she used to practice with needle away from prying eyes.
Opening the door, she walked inside. Waiting for her across the room, a tall man with dark, shoulder length hair, green eyes, and an average build stood, two fencing blades clutched in hand. “You’re late, girl.” He said in a heavy Bravossi accent.
“Late for what? Who are you?” She asked looking curiously at the man before her.
“Jaqen H’gar. Your new Dancing Master. Lord Tywin has hired me to tutor you.” He said, facing her and tossing her one of the fencing blades.
Deftly she caught it and grinned. “Really? That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to start.” She said excitedly, making a mental note to thank Tywin.
Walking forward, Arya and Jaqen moved into a combat stance, raising their blades they began to spar.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Meanwhile…
He sat on a wooden bench in the darkness, arms and legs chained to the wall behind him, mouth gagged. Looking back, he cursed himself for his foolishness. His mistakes had all led up to this. Like a blind man, he had stumbled around, making careless mistakes that had led to his downfall. Breaking his promise to Walder Frey and marrying Talisa had been the first one, sending Theon to Pyke to treat with Balon Greyjoy on his behalf had been the second, his strained relationship with his bannermen over how he treated prisoners and the fact that he had lost Winterfell to the Ironborn, and finally the plan to rescue his wife and mother.
The plan had been brilliant, or so he thought…
(Flashback… The sun was setting in the sky. Around him, his lords and soldiers were strapping on their armor and finalizing the preparations for the raid that would take place later that night. If they were lucky they would achieve two goals tonight.
Once out of the gates, the raiding party, dressed in the livery of Lannister soldiers, would split into two groups. One group, moving on foot would make their way through the enemy camps and set fire to the supply tents, burning everything to ash and therein destroying the enemy’s ability to sustain the siege.
While the Lannister soldiers were distracted by the fire, the second group would sneak into the camp and rescue his wife and mother who were being kept in a makeshift cell on the West side of the camp before returning to the castle to muster the bulk of their forces. Then they would prepare to ride out in force to assault the enemy camp.
Plunged into chaos, their supplies destroyed, the Lannister forces would have no choice but to retreat, leaving the Northern armies free to begin taking back the Trident.
The sun had set, and the Lannister troops had retreated into their camps for the night. Turning to his lords and captains, he issued the orders and the small group crept quietly out of the gates, marching slowly towards the enemy camp.
Reaching the outskirts of the camp, they approached the sentries and in the dark light and careful disguises they claimed to be soldiers returning from a routine patrol. The ruse had worked and cautiously they rode into the enemy camp.
Passing themselves off as Lannister troops, the enemy soldiers paid them little to no heed as they crept through the camp, locating the supply tent and the makeshift cells in the distance, they split up and headed off in different directions to complete their tasks.
Separating, Robb Stark with his hair dyed blond and clean shaven, led his party towards the makeshift cells where his mother and wife sat bound and gagged. They halted and waited for the signal to begin. Listening carefully, shouts filled the camp as soldiers rushed this way and that.
They waited a few moments more before moving forward. Robb Stark drew his sword, moving quickly to strike down the guards standing watch over the prisoners as Dacey Mormont and the Greatjon followed quickly after him. Dacey clutching a great maul in her left hand looked left and right, while the Greatjon carried a huge broad-bladed battle ax.
After dispatching the guards, Robb retrieved the keys and unlocked the cell before hurrying inside. Quickly, careful not to harm them, he worked to loosen their bonds. “Hush, it’s alright. It’s me. It’s Robb.” He said, loosening his mother’s bonds.
Frantically, Lady Catelyn tugged away from her gag, her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. “Oh Robb, you shouldn’t have come. It was a trap. They know you’re here.” She shook her head, arms clutching at him miserably.
All around them torches sprang into light revealing Lannister soldiers armed with pikes, swords and heavy crossbows. Robb faltered, dropping his sword as the Greatjon and Dacey Mormont tried to shield him. They were surrounded.
“All hail His Grace, Robb Stark, the King in the North.” Jaime laughed, stepping into the light.
“Kingslayer.” Robb Stark said, his eyes flashing angrily.
“It’s good to see you again. Only this time our positions are reversed. I don’t suppose you fancy that duel now, eh? Arrest them.” Jaime said, walking away.
End flashback)
“Why?” He thought miserably, reflecting on his mistakes. He had won countless victories in the field only to be caught by an underhanded ploy. “Dirty politics and backroom plotting. Father never covered this in my lessons.” He sighed, wringing his hands.
At the sound of footsteps, he looked up. A squad of five heavily armed Lannister guardsmen led by Ser Gregor Clegane himself stood in front of his cell.
Unlocking the door to his cell, they removed the chains binding him to the stone wall before fixing shackles around his wrists and ankles and led him out of the cells and into the great hall where his lords and bannermen knelt chained together.
Robb looked at them, shaking his head sadly as he was forced to kneel beside them. The North had fallen…
XxxxxxxxxxxX
She paced back and forth, fists clenching her dress as she tried to calm her fears. Her heart was racing, and her head was killing her. Her lovely new dress was now ruined, and she hadn’t seen or heard from her captors in what felt like forever. The only time she had visitors was when the man who had locked her in this room delivered her meals. She had been completely helpless, forced to watch as bandits killed their escort. They had fought bravely but were hopelessly outnumbered. Nearby a tall, cloaked figure had struck her sister over the head with a rock, knocking her unconscious.
Terrified, she had tried to run but the bandits surrounded her, moving quickly to bind her hands before gagging her and slipping a hood over her head. After that, they had led her a short distance away before lifting her onto the back of a horse.
They had ridden, nonstop for hours pausing only briefly to water the horses at a small stream before moving on again. Finally, they stopped, and she was helped down from her horse before being grabbed by rough hands and guided up a flight of stairs. She heard a heavy door creak open before she was pushed inside. A man with a bald head, a thick black beard and dark eyes removed the hood and pulled out her gag.
Panicked, she looked around. The room was small. There was a single small bed, a chamber pot in the corner, a small table and a wooden chair. There were no windows, so she had no idea where she was or how much time had passed. After removing her bonds, the man left, closing and locking the door behind him. She had banged on the door for hours, calling for someone, anyone to come but nobody answered. Alone and terrified, she moved to the bed and curled up, hugging her arms and legs to her chest as she wept.
A creaking noise sounded as a heavy bolt was lifted out of place and the door opened. Startled, Sansa sat up, wiping her eyes and gazing terrified at the doorway. In the doorway, the same tall cloaked man stood, face covered as he looked at her.
“What do you want from me? Why did you bring me here?” She asked, trying to sound braver than she was.
“Lady Sansa. There’s no need to be afraid. You’re perfectly safe here.” The figure said quietly.
She knew that voice. Feeling a little more confident she stood slowly. “Hello, Petyr…”
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Exhausted and covered in bruises after her first lesson with her new dancing master, Arya trudged back to the Tower of the Hand, her escort falling into step behind her. Tywin had doubled her guard since the attack and insisted that she always stay close to the Tower of the Hand. She was no longer allowed to go riding in the Kingswood either. She didn’t hold it against him, but she missed the freedoms she once had.
Still, he had surprised her with a new dancing master from Bravos and that had been very sweet of him. It was considered highly improper for women to train with swords for combat in Westeros and the fact that he was willing to overlook this for her meant a great deal to her. Tywin placed a lot of weight on reputation and respectability.
Entering the suite of rooms she shared with Tywin she had her servants prepare a bath, wanting nothing more than a relaxing soak to soothe her aching muscles. Settling into the large sunken tub, she sighed, resting back against the side, her eyes drifting closed as she enjoyed the water.
“Careful that you don’t fall asleep in there, sweetheart” A voice called.
Opening her eyes, she smiled, seeing Tywin leaning against the doorway of the bathing room, his eyes shining as he looked at her. She smiled, moving closer to him.
“Did you have a good time at your lesson, love?” he asked stripping down and joining her in the tub, pulling her against his chest.
“It was wonderful. Thank you so much, my lord.” She smiled up at him.
Tywin smiled, kissing her lips, his hands carding through her hair as they relaxed together in the hot bath.
“How did your dress fitting go?” He asked, eyes shining with amusement.
She glared at him and swatted his arm. “Jerk.” She said.
Tywin laughed enjoying the moment as she pouted, sticking her tongue out at him. He smiled, his left hand reaching up to caress her cheek, his right wrapping around her hips, pulling her tight against him as he ground his hips against her, eliciting a soft moan from his young betrothed. Arya clung tight to him, nuzzling against his shoulder. “I love you, sweetheart.” He said softly as he gazed into her dark eyes.
Arya smiled kissing his lips as his hands moved to her rear, cupping the round cheeks as she blushed. He grinned and pushed her up against the side of the tub, his hands pushing her legs open as he pressed against her heated core, her small arms wrapping around him.
He moaned softly, reaching down and guided his hard cock between her lips, sliding himself inside her with a contented sigh as she clung to him, her short scrawny legs pulling him deeper into her. Arya rested her head against the side of the tub, clinging tight to her lord as he thrust himself into her, a quiet moan escaping her lips as he hit a sweet spot inside her causing her breath to catch as a wave of pleasure rippled through her. Reaching down, she teased her clit, her mouth dropping open, little moans and gasps of pleasure escaping her lips as her breath hitched in her throat. Her lord filled her so completely, his cock making her feel stuffed, rubbing against every part of her sheath.
Tywin’s hands gripped her slender hips, nails digging into her soft, pale skin as he thrust roughly into her warm, wet hole, the water splashing around them as he took her hard, her walls clinging to him, squeezing down on his cock, milking him. His eyes shut tight as he panted, his hips smacking against her thighs as he slammed deep into her. Arya felt her orgasm approaching rapidly, she pinched and tugged softly on her clit with one hand while the other teased and tugged softly on her hard nipples, her back arching, she cried out cumming hard around her lord’s thrusting cock.
Tywin stiffened, her convulsing sheath milking him, driving him over the brink as he came, spilling his seed inside her, his breathing hard and heavy as he braced himself against the side of the tub, slowly pulling out of his little wolf.
She smiled up at him, nuzzling against his chest as they both came down from their orgasms. The water had started to cool so they hurriedly bathed before climbing out and drying off. They wrapped themselves in fluffy towels before walking into the bedchambers and dressing in their evening wear.
Tywin stood, taking her hand and led her to the private dining hall where they shared a quiet meal, enjoying each other’s company. Later that night they climbed into bed, Tywin hugging her against his chest, his arms wrapped around her middle as they slept.
TBC
- 10
- 11
- 12
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The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl