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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
The battle for King’s Landing had been long and hard, but her lord was victorious, and Stannis Baratheon had finally been defeated. His army had surrendered, and the survivors were now in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep. Stannis had been killed in the battle and his head was now mounted on a pike above the city gates. In gratitude, Joffrey had named Lord Tywin Hand of the King and Savior of the City in a huge ceremony in the Throne Room with all the court looking on.
Arya was so proud of him, but she grimaced as she recalled the reception she had received from Cersei and Joffrey. They were furious when they saw her. Cersei had started forward suddenly at the sight of her, her face turning into a furious snarl as beside her Joffrey called for the castle guards to apprehend her. Panicking, she had hidden behind her lord, her small hands clutching at his crimson cloak as he wrapped an arm around her protectively.
Surprised, Cersei spluttered and stumbled back to her chair on the dais near the Throne, at a loss for words while Joffrey, terrified of Lord Tywin, said nothing of her within earshot. Tyrion fixed them both with a curious expression but said nothing. Meanwhile in the balconies and surrounding galleries, lords, ladies and knights whispered to each other, but Arya didn’t let them bother her. Their opinions were not important in the grand scheme of things.
In an obscure corner overlooked by the rest, Sansa stood rooted to the spot, frozen with fear as her sister was introduced, her hands clutching the railing, knuckles white as a wave of panic raced up her spine. Sansa waited until the gallery emptied out before approaching Lord Tywin and her sister as they walked in the direction of the Tower of the Hand.
“Good day, my lord. I wonder if I may have a word alone with my sister.” She asked as she curtsied deeply, all courtesies as usual.
Arya looked up at Lord Tywin who nodded and led them to an empty alcove inside the Tower of the Hand before continuing to his chambers to change. When he was out of sight Sansa turned to face Arya, her eyes roving over her sister before pulling her into a hug, tears in her eyes. “Oh gods, Arya. It’s really you. I was so worried about you. Thank the gods you’re okay. But what are you doing here? With Tywin Lannister of all people?” She sobbed, hands gripping Arya’s shoulders.
Arya wrapped her arms around her sister’s waist, her eyes misting with unshed tears as she buried her face in her sister’s gown. In the past, they had fought a lot, constantly at odds due to the many differences between them but after all that the pair had been through since their separation, it was wonderful to be reunited again.
Arya broke down crying softly. Slowly they broke apart and sat on a small bench in the alcove, facing each other. They spent the next few hours talking and relating to each other what had happened to them since they last saw each other.
Just a few short days after the defeat of the Baratheon forces, King’s Landing was coming back to life again. With the Baratheon fleet decimated, the blockade on the harbor was lifted allowing merchants to return to some of the smaller ports. Food shipments from the Reach had once again reached the city thanks to the efforts of the Tyrells and the markets were bustling with activity, children dashing this way and that as the people cheered whenever they saw the Golden Rose of House Tyrell.
Meanwhile, outside the city walls, laborers worked to clear away the wreckage from the battle, the remains of burnt ships being cleared from the harbor as the bodies of dead soldiers were stripped and burned. Three days after the battle, ravens had arrived bearing the news that Dragonstone had officially surrendered to the Crown and emissaries were now on the march to secure the submission of the Stormlands.
Aided in this was the written submission of the Storm lords still alive in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep who would be released in return for the surrender of their families. They would be required to pledge their loyalty to the Crown once again and surrender a tenth of their estates as a show of submission.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
A week after the battle, the nobles at court gathered into the galleries of the throne room where Joffrey, dressed in rich purple and gold robes and wearing a smug grin, sat perched on the Iron Throne prepared to pass out rewards to a group of gathered noblemen in return for services rendered to the Crown during the recent turmoil. Sansa sighed and watched from the balcony above, unsure whether to be relieved or worried, her stomach tying itself in knots.
In a grand ceremony earlier that day in the throne room, Joffrey had set her aside in favor of Margaery Tyrell. While she was relieved that she would no longer be forced to marry that monster, she couldn’t help but wonder what fate the future held for her now. She bit her lip and left the Throne room, heading towards the Tower of the Hand. The Lannister guards stood aside to admit her and upon entering she headed straight for her chambers.
Shortly after taking up residence in the Tower of the Hand Tywin Lannister had relocated her chambers to the Tower so that she was now closer to her sister. She wasn’t sure why he had done so but at least now she could start to rest more easily at night. Joffrey would no longer be able to enter her chambers whenever he pleased now.
Exiting her chambers later that evening, Sansa quickly walked across the hall to the rooms that had been set aside for Arya. Sansa paused at the threshold when she reached the doors to Arya’s chambers listening carefully as she heard voices and what sounded like soft moans. Quietly and carefully, she inched the door to her sister’s chambers slightly ajar to peek inside and froze, her hands covering her mouth at the sight she saw.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Arya bit back a moan, her hands braced against her lord’s shoulders as she rocked her hips, her eyes shut tight, her brow glistening with sweat as the mahogany bedframe creaked, the headboard banging against the stone wall. Beneath her on the bed Tywin Lannister lay on his back, his large rough hands reaching up to fondle her rear, his hips thrusting upwards as she bounced up and down on his hard cock.
Arya panted, her body tensing, back arched taut as a bowstring as she came, her eyes rolled back in her head, mouth hanging open, drooling slightly as waves of pleasure coursed through her, her mind blank as her beloved lord moved over top of her, her short scrawny legs on either side of him as he thrust himself in and out of her, his lips capturing hers as he toyed with her clit, making her moan, her hips bucking, body convulsing as she climaxed again, cumming hard around his hard cock. Tywin was far from gentle as he thrust himself inside her and she winced, clinging tightly to him as she bit her lip.
Arya was embarrassed to admit it, but she liked it hard and rough. The pain and the pleasure combined to give her a thrill, making the act of submitting to her lord even more arousing for her. Above her, he stiffened, and she felt him swell inside her, warmth and wetness flooding her as he spilled his seed inside her. Tywin moaned and collapsed onto the bed beside her.
Flushed but happy, she cuddled against him as his arms wrapped around her small frame and she nuzzled against his chest. Tywin smiled, caressing her cheek as she beamed up at him.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Sansa quickly turned away from the door and took a shuddering breath. Shocked to her very core, she walked back to her chambers, closing the door behind her before hurrying across the room. She sat on her bed, her arms hugging her sides as she struggled to process what she had just seen.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Tywin sat up in bed and stifled a yawn before standing, pulling his trousers on and fastening them before picking up his white linen shirt, pulling it on over his head. Standing, he crossed the room and passed through the door that connected her chambers to his. He headed to his solar in the Tower of the Hand as behind him Arya pulled her smallclothes back on and smoothed her nightdress out as she joined him at his desk watching him sign his name to a letter and seal it with the Royal Seal.
A lot had happened in the week that had passed since the battle. The Stormlands and Dragonstone were now officially under the control of the Crown and because of Tyrion’s plan to betroth Princess Myrcella to Prince Trystane Martell and the promise of justice for Elia and her children, Dorne had sent assurances to King’s Landing that they would keep the peace. To help soothe some of the bitter feelings between the Lannisters and the Martells, Prince Oberyn, The Red Viper of Dorne, had been invited to court to take up a post on the Small Council but so far there had been no reply from him on the matter.
“Who are you writing to, my lord?” Arya asked, nuzzling his shoulder.
Tywin turned his head and kissed her cheek before meeting her gaze. “Just working on a plan to settle the war with the Northern lords.” He said quietly.
Arya glanced at the letters before looking up at him, a wary expression on her face. “You’ll be merciful, won’t you? They are my countrymen.” She said looking at him.
Tywin considered her for a moment, his eyes softening. “If they strike their banners and swear an oath to the Crown, I’ll spare their lives and grant them a pardon.” He said, looking at her.
“And my brother Robb?” She asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Your brother has rebelled against the Crown and declared himself King in the North. I will try to negotiate but I can’t make any promises.” Tywin said quietly. Arya nodded and said nothing, her eyes downcast.
“I promise to do my very best to end things peacefully with your brother.” Tywin said, reaching out for her.
Arya smiled, leaning up on her tiptoes, she kissed him, his fingers carding through her dark hair. He pulled back as a knock sounded at the door. “Enter,” he called sitting up in his chair.
The door opened, and Tyrion Lannister walked into the room, a large leather-bound book in his hands. He sat in a chair in front of the desk and Arya quickly poured wine for her lord and Tyrion before backing off to the side. “What is it you need at this hour exactly?” Tywin asked calmly, his tone empty of malice as he sipped his wine and focused his gaze on his son.
Tyrion placed the large book on the desk and opened it, revealing it was, in fact, one of the Royal ledgers. “I’m here about the Crown’s finances. The war is decimating the Crown’s resources and this royal wedding isn’t helping.” Tyrion stated before continuing when his father said nothing.
“What’s more, I’ve recently discovered that the gold Petyr Baelish is so famous for producing for the Crown was in fact borrowed from various sources.” Tyrion said, glancing up at his father.
“I suspected as much. What about the forfeiture of estates by the lords of Dragonstone and the Stormlands? As far as the wedding is concerned, ask the Tyrells to chip in gold for the costs. The wedding benefits them as much as us.” Tywin replied, looking at Tyrion.
“I have spoken to the Tyrells and they have agreed to take on half of the costs. But there is still the matter of the other debts. With the Storm lords and Dragonstone rebelling against the Crown they have forfeited any rights to repayment of loans owed by the Crown and the forfeiture of estates is helping but with Joffrey rewarding the nobles loyal to the crown with new lands and titles that is pretty much gone.” Tyrion said.
“What about the Crown’s levies?” Tywin asked, leaning back in his chair.
“It’s true that income for the Crown is at it’s highest ever but so are the Crown’s expenses.” Tyrion stated.
Tywin considered his son, sighing as he sipped his wine. “What would you like me to do about it?” he asked.
Tyrion paused, sipping his wine as he considered his words. “If you were to forgive the Crown its debt to House Lannister that would go a long way towards helping the situation.” He said slowly.
Tywin sat up in his chair, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. The debt stands, and House Lannister will receive its due.” He said firmly.
“Then perhaps we can discuss the war.” Tyrion said, looking at his father.
“Go ahead.” Tywin said, reclining once again.
“We have the allegiance of the Crownlands and the Westerlands. With the betrothal of Myrcella to Prince Trystane Martell, we have a lasting peace with Dorne. And Petyr Baelish has brought the Vale to us in exchange for being named Lord of Harrenhal. We also have the Reach. Stannis Baratheon is dead, and his former bannermen have surrendered to the Crown, restoring Dragonstone and the Stormlands to our control. Still, the North, the Riverlands, and the Iron Islands remain in open rebellion.” Tyrion said calmly, looking at his father.
“This war is half over then. The Northern lords are fighting with the Iron Islanders who have captured Winterfell from the Starks and Ser Gregor is laying siege to Riverrun. The Riverlands will soon be under our control as well. As far as the Ironborn are concerned, I believe that if we offer them a betrothal, we can bring them back into the fold.” Tywin said taking another sip of his wine.
“A betrothal? Who do you intend to offer them?” Tyrion asked curiously.
“Your sister Cersei is still young and capable of bearing children. She will make a decent match for Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands.” Tywin said.
“Good luck getting her to agree to that.” Tyrion snorted.
Tywin frowned, misliking the sarcastic tone in Tyrion’s voice. “Cersei will do her duty. As will you.” He said sharply.
Tyrion looked up, a surprised look on his face. “Me? What do you mean?” He asked.
Tywin considered his son briefly as he finished the last of his wine before speaking. “I’ve recently discovered that the Tyrells are plotting to marry Sansa Stark to Lord Tyrell’s eldest son.”
“So, they wish to provide a match for her. How exactly does that concern House Lannister or the Crown?” Tyrion asked with a sigh.
“It concerns us because they are plotting against us to steal the North. I intend to marry Sansa Stark to you instead and put an end to their plotting once and for all.” Tywin said as a frown crossed his features.
“Sansa Stark is a child. Surely there is some other Lannister relation, someone younger that you can marry her too.” Tyrion said as he stood from his chair, protesting loudly while sparing Arya a strained glance.
Calm as ever, Tywin focused his gaze on his son. “She is seventeen. A maiden flowered. More than capable of bearing children and it is high time you quit your whores and settled down. With Jaime in the Kingsguard and unable to wed, you are heir to Casterly Rock. You’ll need a highborn bride to secure the future of our house. Besides if this war goes badly for the Northern lords, this match could secure our family’s hold on the North.” Tywin said voice stern as Arya looked at him, fidgeting where she stood.
Tywin took a breath then continued. “The arrangements have already been made and the matter is settled. You’ll wed the Stark girl in two weeks’ time, and immediately after the wedding the two of you will travel to Casterly Rock to manage our estates in my absence.” Tywin said with finality.
Tyrion sat stunned, listening to his father. “Me…? Heir to Casterly Rock? But what about Jaime? Surely the High Septon can set aside his vows.” He asked gazing at his father.
“I have spoken to Jaime on the matter repeatedly in the past. Despite my objections, he refuses to abandon his vows to the Kingsguard and will not be moved on the matter. Now that he is a captive of the Northern rebels, the safe production of an heir for our house is even more imperative.” Tywin said, an edge to his tone.
Tyrion stood, nodding to himself before looking to his father. “I understand, father. I’ll marry the Stark girl as you demand and do my best to govern the Westerlands as you have.” With that Tyrion turned and exited the Tower of the Hand, so deeply lost in thought that he barely noticed where he was walking.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
Stretching, Tywin stood, heading towards the bedchamber he shared with Arya as she approached him. He smiled at her and lifted her up off the floor and into his arms, cuddling her against his chest as she giggled, her hands settling on his shoulders as she looked into his eyes. With a smile Tywin carried her into the bedroom and pulled back the bedcovers laying her down gently on the feather mattress. He took a moment to admire her before climbing into bed beside her.
Tywin leaned in, kissing her lips as his rough hands pushed her nightdress up and over her head, tossing it to the floor before tugging down her smallclothes, slipping them past her ankles and raising them to his nose, deeply inhaling her scent. Arya bit her bottom lip, her mind racing as Tywin moved between her short legs, his face nuzzling against her stomach, his hands teasing across her small hips.
“Do you really mean to marry Sansa to Tyrion, my lord?” She asked, fidgeting as she propped herself up on her elbows.
“Of course, sweetness. Why do you ask?” He replied, kissing and caressing her pale thighs.
Arya bit her lip worriedly. “Well my lord, it’s just that you’re marrying Tyrion to Sansa and Cersei to the Iron Islands. What do you intend to do with me?” She asked, gripping the bedsheets as his lips brushed across the pale pink lips of her slit, eliciting a quiet purring sound from her.
Tywin paused and looked up at her, his hands on her knees. “You belong to me, sweetheart. You’ll remain here with me.” He said calmly, as though no other possibility existed.
Arya beamed happily, relief settling across her features as she relaxed against the pillows while Tywin leaned back down, his tongue swiping across her glistening lips. Arya’s hands reached down, gripping his head, pulling it tight against her as his tongue pushed between her soft lips, teasing, licking, tasting, his fingers gently probed her sheath, pushing a digit inside. Tywin wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking and gently nipping the swollen bud as his fingers thrust in and out of her, eliciting soft whimpers and mewling sounds from Arya.
Arya panted as her hips bucked, her head tossed back, her hips grinding against his hand as he sucked and gently swiped his tongue across her sensitive clit. Her mind a haze of lust and pleasure, she turned her head and buried her face into the pillow next to her, stifling her cries of pleasure, her body convulsing, shaking as her orgasm hit her hard, her juices flooding her lord’s mouth as she slackened, going limp and breathing hard as she lay her head against the pillows.
Tywin moved up to lay beside her, licking his lips as he held her against his chest. Arya cuddled against him, a quiet yawn escaping her lips. The hour was late and they both needed to get to sleep.
TBC
- 5
- 6
- 7
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The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl