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The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl	By : White Glove Literature Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 27883 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own Game of Thrones nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
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Arya woke up to a shuffling sound and blinked, her eyes gradually adjusting to the light from the burning braziers along the wall. She sat up and looked around, confused. The sun had not yet risen, the sky outside was still dark, with only faint traces of light in the sky. “It must be very early,” She realized. Memories of last night slowly drifted into her sleep fogged mind and she realized suddenly that she was in her lord’s chambers, lying under the heavy furs in his bed.
Next to the bed Lord Tywin stood, pulling on a pair of trousers, his back towards her. She yawned quietly and stretched, wincing slightly as soreness in her hips brought back fresh memories of her lord’s vigorous embrace. She blushed crimson and looked at her lord, standing with his back to her as he buttoned up his shirt before sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots.
Remembering herself, she stood from the bed, moving as quickly as the soreness in her hips would allow and knelt at his feet, lacing up his boots for him, her eyes down as he paused, gazing at her nude form. When she finished, he stood up and looking around he saw the small red blotch on the white linen sheets on his bed, a pleased smirk appearing on his face.
He cupped her chin and she beamed happily as she looked up at him, his thumb teasing across her soft pink lips, her tongue darting out against the rough digit. Lord Tywin removed his hand as he walked across the room towards the rack where his armor lay and called her over to him.
“I’ll go to the training grounds today,” he said and with his guidance she helped him don his armor, fastening the straps to hold it in place before running to fetch his sword belt, kneeling as she offered it to him, a grin on her face.
Tywin took the sword belt and fastened it around his waist, flexing his arms before walking from his bedchambers. “Go wash and dress quickly, girl. Then straighten up my chambers. After that go to the commissariat and fetch more candles for my chambers and fresh linens for the bed. When you’ve finished with that you can go to the kitchens and fetch hot water for my tub. I’ll want a bath after my sparring session. Get one of the other servants to help you. I don’t want you spilling my bath water all over the tower floor.” Tywin said without looking at her as he exited his solar and left the tower.
Arya quickly walked over to the washbasin, wincing as the ache in her hips protested. Gingerly she picked up a rag next to the basin and washed her face and hands before looking down. Her legs were sticky, her pale thighs coated in traces of her blood and her lord’s seed. She was young, but she was smart enough to know that her lord had taken her maidenhead last night, and what that meant for her future prospects. She didn’t care though. She had spent the evening in her Lord's arms. She felt her cheeks heating, the idea of serving her beloved lord in that way strangely appealing.
Arya finished washing and quickly dressed, pulling on her small clothes and dress before stepping into her shoes and hurrying about the room. She hummed softly to herself, an old Northern folksong she had learned as a child at Winterfell while bustling about, clearing up some of the clutter in her lord’s chambers. With his chambers now straightened, she set about stripping the soiled linens from the bed and setting them aside, pausing and chewing her lip softly as she noticed the red stain on the linens.
Bundling the linens up under one arm, she wiped her brow before leaving the tower and taking the linens to the castle laundresses. Dropping the linens off and ignoring the inquiring glance the laundress sent her way, Arya rushed off to the commissariat to retrieve the candles and fresh linens for Tywin’s bed.
By the time she reached the commissariat the sun had begun to rise. She stood in the supply office waiting for the surly clerk in charge of the supplies to finish with the person ahead of her. Finally, when it was her turn, she stopped in front of the counter.
“What do you want, girl?” The clerk asked looking at her as though she were something unpleasant, he had just scraped from the bottom of his boots.
“Lord Tywin sent me to fetch fresh linens for his bed and candles for his chambers,” she said, ignoring his glare.
At the mention of Lord Tywin Lannister, the unpleasant clerk quickly straightened up and hurried to fill the order, unwilling to risk Tywin Lannister’s wrath. He quickly returned with an arm of fresh linens for the bed and three beeswax candles which he handed to her. Arya took them and quickly left, heading back to the tower to make the bed and place the candles on Lord Tywin’s desk for his later use. aFinally finished with that she hurried out of the tower, running towards the kitchens. The cook was shouting and cursing at one of the servants when she walked in. She cautiously approached him and waited. Finally, he looked at her, red in the face from yelling and brandishing a rolling pin.
“Well, girl. What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?” he barked at her.
Arya swallowed but stood her ground. “Lord Tywin sent me to fetch hot water for his bath.” She said, looking him in the eye.
“Oh, very well then.” He said turning.
“Hot Pie help the girl fetch water from the well in the courtyard and then bring it back here and put it onto the fire to boil. And be quick about it. There’s more work to be done.” He said turning back to face Arya before continuing. “And you girl, if you want to keep those teeth you won’t suck them at me,” he said glaring at her as he went back to his work.
Hot Pie and Arya carried two large metal bins to the well in the courtyard and filled them with the buckets before hauling them back to the kitchen and putting them on the fire to boil. When they were finished, they carried the water to the tower and filled the large tub in the corner of Lord Tywin’s bathroom.
“Thanks for helping me, Hot Pie,” Arya said smiling at her friend.
“No problem, Arry.” He replied as they picked up the empty metal tins.
After helping carry the metal bins back to the kitchen, Hot pie returned to work and Arya, now free for the moment, walked toward the training grounds. She stopped in the corner, frozen in shock and fear as she saw her lord facing off against the Mountain of all people.
She was terrified for him, but as she watched she saw him easily dodging the Mountain’s blows, dancing around the giant as though toying with him. He blocked and parried the Mountain’s blows, displaying surprising skill and strength for a man of his age. She was awestruck, watching as he landed blow after blow against the exposed joints in Clegane’s armor. The Mountain was huge and strong, but his heavy armor weighed him down, making him slow and clumsy.
“Are you going soft, Clegane?” Tywin asked as he danced to the side, sweeping the Mountain’s legs out from under him in a sudden move. The Mountain tumbled to the ground with a loud thud and before he could move Tywin stood over him, holding his sword to the Mountain’s throat. The Mountain dropped his sword with a loud clang and raised his hands in defeat. Arya cheered along with a group of Lannister men-at-arms and servants who had gathered around to watch. Lord Tywin stood back as Ser Gregor climbed clumsily to his feet.
Looking around at the crowd, he scowled at them angrily. “Don’t you people have work to do?” he said in a harsh tone.
Quickly they scattered, leaving to return to their duties. Tywin left the field, sheathing his sword as he walked past Arya in the direction of the tower. “Follow,” he said without looking at her and she turned, running to keep up with his brisk pace as they entered the tower together.
Looking around his chambers he nodded satisfied but said nothing and stopped in front of her. Taking the hint, Arya quickly moved forward and began to help him remove his armor. When the last of his armor was removed he walked toward his bathing chamber and she followed, kneeling and quickly unlacing his boots as he unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it to the floor before unfastening his breeches. When she finished, he kicked off his boots and stepped out of his breeches, sliding them off along with his small clothes before settling into the tub.
Tywin sighed leaning back against the side of the large round tub and relaxing in the hot water before sparing her a glance from the corner of his eyes. “Fetch that bottle of shampoo, girl.” He said as he dunked his head under the water before reemerging, water cascading down off his shoulders.
Arya walked forward, holding a glass bottle. She poured some onto her hands and began lathering the shampoo into his hair as he sighed, eyes closed and tilting his head back. When she finished lathering his hair she poured a bucket of hot water from the tub over his head, rinsing out the suds. He looked at her, his eyes roving over her before reaching over and tugging lightly at her gown. “Get rid of that, girl. Then join me in here,” he said.
Arya nodded, a blush creeping across her face as she quickly removed her clothing and joined her lord in the tub. He pulled her against him and she settled in his lap, giggling as his cock twitched and hardened against her rear. He lathered a cloth with soap and began scrubbing her back and shoulders while she wiggled and squirmed in his lap. He set the cloth down and lifted her up onto the edge of the tub before picking up the cloth again and scrubbing her short scrawny legs and hips as she laughed.
He placed his hands on her knees, pushing her legs open as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against her soft, pale thighs and she froze, watching him with anticipation but to her disappointment he pulled away and handed her the cloth and told her to finish while he started scrubbing himself with another cloth. Arya bit her lip, but finished her bath and sat, watching her lord.
Tywin stood, climbing from the bath and dried off as she did the same, quickly redressing before following him into his bedchamber. He moved about quickly, pulling a clean tunic and pair of breeches from his wardrobe he quickly put them on before heading to his solar and taking a seat at his desk. His stomach rumbled loudly, and he decided now would be as good a time as any for breakfast. He turned to Arya about to speak when a loud knock sounded on the door of his solar.
“Enter,” he called. The door opened, and a Lannister soldier entered, bowing low.
“Yes, what is it?” Tywin asked.
“A messenger from King’s Landing, my lord.” Came the reply.
“A messenger? Who is it?” Tywin asked, his stomach rumbling once again.
The soldier quickly stood to attention and faced his lord. “Petyr Baelish, my lord.” He said.
Tywin gave a weary sigh, and nodded to the soldier, oblivious to Arya’s sudden nervous fidgeting. “Send him in right away,” Tywin replied.
The soldier left, and Tywin turned to look at Arya. “Go fetch a jug of wine and two glasses.” Arya quickly obeyed, keeping her face down as she moved about the solar.
Petyr Baelish calmly entered the solar, dressed in expensive maroon and grey velvet robes, tooled leather boots clicking on the rough stone floor as he walked, his familiar falsely sweet smile and oily beard ever present, and at an invitation from Lord Tywin quickly sat in a chair in front of the desk. As they talked, discussing the war and the ever-worsening conditions in King’s Landing Arya placed Lord Tywin’s wine on the table and turned, her face down, quietly offering a glass to Lord Baelish who took it, sparing her the very briefest of glances. Arya eagerly moved to the corner after he took the cup, anxious to avoid being seen.
“My lord, as I am sure you are already aware, Renly Baratheon is dead. Rumors fly as to the cause, but the Storm lords are now flocking to his brother Stannis and King’s Landing is in dire peril. The Crown needs allies and I may be able to help.” He said leaning back in his chair.
Tywin considered the man for a moment, taking a sip of his wine. “Is that so? And how can you help?” he asked.
Petyr leaned forward and flashed Tywin one of his signature smug grins, and after taking a sip of his wine replied, “By bringing the Reach into the fold. There is no love between Mace Tyrell and Stannis Baratheon due to the siege of Storm’s end that took place during Robert Baratheon’s rebellion. With your permission, of course, I will travel to the Reach and secure a betrothal arrangement between Lord Tyrell’s daughter Margaery and His Grace, which would surely secure the full might of the Reach for the Crown’s endeavors.” Petyr finished once again reclining in his chair.
Tywin turned, looking at Arya. “Run down to the kitchens, girl, and fetch my breakfast. Get yourself something too. We may be quite a while so take your time. Lord Baelish and I have a few more things to discuss first, without servants listening in.” He said quietly.
Arya jumped at the excuse and left the solar as discreetly as she could, eager to avoid Lord Baelish’s gaze. Running down the steps, she quickly fled the tower and hurried across the courtyard to the kitchens. Upon entering she slipped past the cook and grabbed a fresh bun off a tray, quickly scarfing down the morsel as she tried to avoid the attention of Weese, the cook. She was starving, having not eaten since last night.
Standing in the corner, she looked around and spotted her friend. She wandered over to Hot Pie who was passing out oatcakes and steaming mugs of coffee to a group of Lannister soldiers who had just returned from patrols.
“Hello, Hot Pie. Doing alright?” She asked, causing him to jump. She sighed and shook her head. He startled so easily, but she supposed it came from working under the likes of a man like Weese all day.
“I’m fine, I suppose but I can’t really talk. If Weese catches us, he’ll cane us both.” He said, looking over his shoulder and casting Weese a fearful glance.
Arya nodded and left the kitchens, wandering through the courtyard. As she wandered around, Arya saw Petyr Baelish leaving the tower and quickly ducked out of sight, watching as he mounted his horse, and followed by his retinue, rode through the gates leaving Harrenhal behind. Arya sighed in relief and ran to the kitchens to fetch Lord Tywin’s breakfast now that his meeting was over.
Arya returned to the tower carrying a tray with Lord Tywin’s breakfast. Pausing at the doorway she waited for her lord to notice her. Tywin looked up from his desk at her and motioned her forward. Quickly she crossed the room, placing his breakfast on the desk in front of him. As Tywin began eating, Arya cast furtive glances at him, her feet shuffling nervously.
“Don’t worry, girl. He didn’t recognize you.” Tywin said absently, not bothering to look at her as he ate a piece of bacon. Arya froze, looking nervously at him as Tywin continued eating.
“P... pardon, m... milord?” she stammered as she gazed at him, terrified.
Sighing, Tywin set his coffee down and turned to look at her. “I’ve met enough Starks in my lifetime to recognize another when I see one,” Tywin said meeting her gaze.
Arya gulped nodding. “I’m Arya, Arya Stark, my lord. Lord Eddard Stark is my father.” She said.
Tywin nodded, already guessing as much as he looked at her, motioning her forward. Arya stepped forward nervously, wondering what he was planning to do with her now. Tywin cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her head up to look into her eyes. Arya gulped, eyes misting with tears as she trembled. Tywin softly kissed her brow and she broke down, rushing into his arms which wrapped around her shoulders. Arya nuzzled his chest and he patted her shoulder.
“It’s alright, girl. No more tears,” he said as he stood, picking her up and carrying her to his bedchambers.
Tywin crossed the threshold and dropped her onto the soft furs before pushing her onto her back on the bed, her head resting against the pillows as she stared up at him. Tywin joined her on the bed, moving over the top of her. She squeaked, brightening up as his rough hands pushed her skirts up around her waist before tugging her smallclothes down around her knees. Arya lay there, staring meekly up at him, nervous as he examined her nude form. Self-consciously, her small hands moved, shielding her chest and pussy from his view as she bit her lip.
Shaking his head, Tywin quickly tugged her hands aside, his gaze roving across her small form. “Beautiful.” He whispered, more to himself than to her as he unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside before doing the same with his boots. His hands unfastened his breeches, pushing them down along with his smallclothes, his huge cock springing forth. His cock was hard as steel, the shaft angry and pulsing with dark purple veins, the tip leaking precum. His rough hands settled on her ankles, pushing her legs up over her chest causing her to squeak, her small feet settled near her head, leaving her entirely at his mercy.
“You’re not going to send me away then, my lord?” she asked, a frightened look in her eyes. Tywin’s half-lidded eyes settled on her and she grimaced slightly in discomfort as he roughly sheathed himself inside her, his hands fondling and smacking her rear.
“No, girl. I have no intention of tossing away such a useful hostage,” he said as his hips rocked, thrusting roughly into her, his hips smacking against her pale skin.
Arya bit her lip, tears misting in her eyes as her Lord took his pleasure from her body. “So, I’m just his hostage then. He doesn’t care that I love him.” She thought to herself miserably, her heart shattering in her chest.
Above her Tywin stiffened as he spent himself inside her before moving onto the bed beside her, his arms pulling her against him as his eyes slowly drifted closed. Exhausted from a morning of sparring with the Mountain, meetings and fucking the young girl next to him he quickly succumbed to sleep. Arya lay there, silently crying as her lord’s seed dripped down her thighs.
“He doesn’t care about me at all. He’s so cruel. Does he even know how to love?” She thought to herself.
Next to her Tywin was sleeping comfortably with his face buried against the pillows, when suddenly his arms wrapped around her and he hugged her tightly against his chest.
“Arry.” He mumbled, the pillow muffling his words. Stiffening, she struggled to catch what he was saying.
“Arry. My precious little wolf girl. All mine, forever.” He mumbled again.
Arya froze, her breath catching in her throat, a smile crossing her face.
TBC
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The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl