AU: Tywin Lannister weds Olenna Redwyne.
Chapter One: Olenna Redwyne
When you are born Olenna Redwyne, things are seldom boring or uneventful.
Living in the arbour has provided her with an unparalleled knowledge of knowledge of ports across the narrow sea. She enjoys sharp-witted conversations with two captains from Volantis most of all, whom are fond enough of her to always have a generous amount of figs ready for her, free of charge. Growing up without a mother, and lacking a proper Septa – Septa Alonne was too ancient to pose a real challenge – allowed her to grow up as she pleased. Her philistine brother had occasionally attempted to rule over her, believing it his right as the next Lord Redwyne. She didn't need a sword to silence him, her words were stinging enough.
"Why should men hold all the power? Men are quick-tempered, slow of mind, and utterly ruled by what's between their legs. Women are better suited to rule," she rants to Sarra, while the maid was brushing out her hair. Her younger brother Desmond was handsome, charming and ultimately ruled by his cock, but most importantly had been found in bed once again with a maiden, but this time she was of noble birth.
–
Olenna barges into her little brother's room as she had for the past twenty years, intent on finding where Bethany was hiding. Her six-year-old sister was once again hiding from Septa Alonne, and the ancient windbag had taken to toddling after her wherever she went, demanding to know where Bethany was as if she had her hidden under her skirts.
After searching Bethany's chambers, her own chambers, the gardens, the library and her mother's chambers, she marches into Desmond's as a last resort. She reaches the middle without the couple in bed noticing, but soon shrieks are filling the room, and Desmond`s face is as red as an apple, and the girls tits bounce as she frantically reaches for the crumpled mess of blankets on the floor, exposing more than Olenna would like to see.
She considers reprimanding her brother, but leaves that for Lyonel, the goon always did love to doll out 'lectures' to his younger siblings.
"Brother," she laughed, "I was only searching for Beth. Seeing as she's not here, however, I'll leave you to your ... entertainment."
"Because men are strong and capable my lady," Sarra explained. "Men are the stronger sex."
Olenna struggles to reign in her tongue, reminding herself that Sarra is only one-and-ten, still full of romantic ideals and songs about pretty maidens and dashing knights and instead replies, "The only things men are good at is drinking, swatting at each other with swords and whoring. Look at Dorne! Ruled by a woman, and cities have not collapsed, the gods have not smited anyone thus far." Sarra is quieted by her words, as she usually does, and Olenna contents herself with silence, imagining her future in which she will rule her household, not some husbands who prefers to fuck her at night, and rule her by day.
Life goes on in the Arbour, and it is four weeks after the wedding of Lyonel and his brand new wife, Marsella Crane when a raven all the way from the Westerlands is passed along from Maester Dustyn to her father.
Olenna was at that time, reading from a book in Dornish history to her sister, about Nymeria the Warrior Queen, and all the ruling Princesses. Unfortunately, they were kept company by her newest sister, Marsella who was mercifully quiet as she wrote. Her blundering brother was out trotting around on his horse through the woods, content with archery and Arbour gold while he shunned his marriage bed. Of course, her good sister, the mousey yet spiteful Crane girl, did not mourn the loss of her husband's attentions but contented herself to writing to her siblings in Red Lake.
Weeks earlier, Olenna had learned of an old lover, a squire from the Riverlands in their service. Her brother may have been a foolish, daft drunkard but he was still her brother. So the Riverlands boy sets sail on a ship to Pentos, employed under one of her Volantene trading friends without a thought to his earlier love, and Marsella refuses to leave her chambers for five days – until one afternoon Olenna decided to pay her good sister a visit. That very evening, Marsella Redwyne arrived thirty-five minutes early for supper.
The day her betrothal came to be was not a particularly unusual day, Olenna would muse later in life. It began like any other day.
Her lord father had not emerged from his study all day, which still was not unusual. Since her lady mother's death from the pox, he has spent more and more of his time is isolation. She is glad for the company of her maids, pale Sarra, the sweetest and most frustrating of the two, and dark Alyx whom served her since her ninth name day, and who shared her bed since her flowering at the age of three-and-ten. She was enjoying their company, listening to a bumbling bard whom blushed under the sultry attentions of Alyx, when a squire arrived informing her that her lord father requested her immediate presence.
Escorted by the squire, she arrives in her father's study, and she is greeted by such a prideful, lusting smile that it makes even someone as hardy as herself, want to turn and run.
"Ah, thank you Olyvar," her father remarked when he hears her entrance. He takes a moment to really look at his daughter. A small, petite young woman fully blossomed at the age of nine-and-ten. Looking at her now, even though she had the traditional Redwyne looks (long dark hair and darker eyes) she bore a bitter resemblance to his lat wife. He had received many proposals from other lords across the seven Kingdoms, but these houses were of lesser standing than his, whom had proudly held the Tyrell's confidence for generations. Though yesterday, he had received an unexpected, but not unwelcome offer from a Lord of a higher family than the Redwyne's, and he was nothing if not an ambitious man.
"How are you Olenna? Well, I hope?" He questions to put her at ease, but it does the opposite. Two pairs of dark eyes stare warily at each other, both measuring the other.
"I am well enough." Is all his eldest daughter replies, and he accepts it gratefully.
"Yes, good, good. But I confess the reason I've summoned –"He pauses at the look on her face – "requested your presence is because I have accepted a worthy offer for your hand in marriage."
Olenna stews over this information, lingering on the fact that her father is not telling her of the offer, but informing her that like it or not, she will be wed.
"In which keep shall I be imprisoned, father?" Her father frowns, displeased with her attitude but unwilling to pick a fight with his ferocious daughter.
"You will dwell in the greatest keep of all, save the Red Keep and the Arbour. Casterly Rock! You will be Lady Lannister, when you wed the eldest son of Lord Tytos Lannister." Her father is so pleased, so giddy, that she swears he could hop from foot to foot with glee.
Olenna is not surprised by this, nor is she pleased. Tytos Lannister is often dubbed 'the toothless lion' by those around him, even those within his own court. She's only met seen the Lannisters a handful of times, and remembers two or three boys, and a ghastly girl. She estimates the oldest son is at least a few years her junior, if not more.
She bids her father a goodnight, and retires into the comfort and pleasure of Alyx's embrace. She cannot fathom how the realm views something as sensual, as pleasurable as touching another woman's body as immoral.
She arrives back to her room, dismissing Sarra. The sunny girl bids her a goodnight with an air of innocence, but Alyx knows better. The Pentoshi woman sees the lust in her eyes, the desperation in her touches when she near tears off Alyx's gown.
Alyx places open-mouthed kisses to her breast, her quick tongue flicking out to trace her nipple, she moans and arches into her. Her hands slides down between them and soon Olenna is writhing and moaning – forgetting all about the Lannister son with his golden hair and golden coins, all of which are soon to be hers - as Alyx rubs her furiously, twisting her nipples harshly, kissing her with all the violence of a summer storm. When Olenna peaks, it's sudden and overwhelming, gushing and arching off the bed until she's near bent in two.
She soon rolls them over, moving over her lover to straddle her, grinding against the older woman until she pants and trembles. Olenna has never liked to love softly, but knows Alyx enjoys fleeting moments of tenderness. Tracing down her long neck with her tongue, Olenna wastes no time in inserting three digits into Alyx, curling them as she knows her lady enjoys. Alyx has no need of her maidenhead, which she surrendered to her lady. Moving her fingers deliciously quick, she sucks a dark nipple into her mouth, and sucks greedily like a babe. When Alyx begins to tighten around her, inner muscles fluttering and beads of sweat rolling down her forehead, Olenna stops. A moan of protest follows and cuts off as Olenna's mouth travels down the valley between her breasts, over a firm stomach, nosing through thick black curls until she arrives at her destination. Alyx is so far gone; it takes only a dozen flicks of her tongue against her nub to make her come.
When it is over, and Olenna settles into the embrace of her familiar lover, she realizes that soon she will be leaving for the Westerlands – without Alyx and Sarra, without Desmond and Bethany and Doras, the motherly cook or grumpy, ancient Maester Dustyn, who's looked after her as long as she can remember. She'll even miss her father and her brother, though she loves them not near as much as she loves the rest.
Olenna suddenly feels very much alone.
Sorry for any mistakes, I am currently without a beta. If your interested, give me a shout! Otherwise, let me know what you thought, and if it is worth continuing.
