Tywin leaned against the window's edge in the tower of Hand of the King. He was trying his best to absorb the midday sun and enjoy the crisp breeze that was licking at his skin. It has been a long time since his impending problems were minor enough that he could take a deep breath.
An eventful few days had left him more wary than usual, starting with his flawless execution of Robb Stark and his men at the hand of Walder Frey, to appointing a new Warden of the North. News that Jaime was coming home had relieved him but had worn him too, and of course, he was planning a wedding between him and the Stark girl. The wedding itself he was trying hard to keep relegated to the back of his mind, but he knew it had to be done right. His name would not be cheapened with a messy or bawdy wedding.
He had never anticipated getting married a second time, but here he was, marrying a girl at least forty years his junior, and solely out of a strategic need to secure the North. He did not fully trust Tyrion to do his duty to their family, and now his decision not to marry the Stark girl to his son left himself as the only available male to marry her. If only he could have convinced Jaime to leave the Kingsguard, then he could have passed this responsibility to his son.
His last marriage was something he refused to even reminisce about; it was too harrowing to even remember how Joanna had once made him feel. He knew for certain his marriage to Sansa would be nothing in the spectrum of joyous, and he didn't have time for such frivolous notions of marital bliss anymore. Those days had long since passed – this was about preserving his legacy which was years in the making.
It was strange that Sansa had chosen to marry him over Tyrion. His son was an imp, yes, but a younger man who had a soft heart. Tywin was almost suspicious of the girl, maybe she was determined to kill him in his sleep when he was most vulnerable. He was uncertain, but he hadn't lived this long to be killed by a silly Northern girl; he would have to be cautious around her until he could be sure of her character himself.
What he could be certain of now was Sansa must be regretting her decision to marry him after hearing the news of her mother and brother's deaths. She would be daft to think he wasn't behind their convenient slaughter.
Tywin was not bothered by their underhanded demise, he had done what was necessary for his family's survival and safety and he would do it all again. It was the Young Wolf's own stupidity that had allowed him this opening to exploit. If Robb Stark had been as capable politically as he had been tactical that Stark boy would have been a real menace. It was unfortunate not to have a Stark in the North but Roose Bolton was calculated enough to contain the northern rabble, especially with southern backing. He hoped the north will now remember what happens when they try for their independence.
At least the war was won and Tywin could focus on reuniting the seven kingdoms. It was a task that would require patience and tedious planning, but he could now rest assured peace was on the horizon for now.
His eyes absorbed the splendor of the gardens as the beautiful roses were in full bloom and the vines had twisted their way around the lattices that were pressed against the Hand's tower and the rest of the Keep. Sound of songbirds, filled the air as they nested in the trees along the water. The roiling blue sea contrasted the bright green of the Royal Garden which glowed in the afternoon sunlight –he could not even compel himself to look away as he was enthralled by its magnificence.
In that moment Tywin had this odd sensation as the hair on his arms stood up – he was being watched. He drew his gaze down to the garden and searched it thoroughly for nosy onlookers – and that's when he saw her.
He noticed at the edge of the garden was a girl with braided auburn hair staring up at him. Her eyes were a puffy red, swollen and dark with circles shaded under them from lack of sleep. The rest of her face was elegant with those highborn cheekbones, soft features and a lavender dress that was too modest for most southern girls.
Sansa Stark.
Her scathing eyes raked over him in a way that could only be described as cold as a winter wind. Tywin had seen that look in many a person's eyes before, most notably his own daughter's gaze. Cersei had perfected such a look of disdain and it seemed the Stark girl wasn't far behind.
He could see it written in her expression. I know you did this to my family. You murdered them.
He could hardly believe the audacity of this girl, challenging him. Sansa almost reminded Tywin of his headstrong cupbearer, how she wasn't afraid to question his authority.
Tywin leveled the girl with a biting glance – he'd be damned if he allowed some child to try demean him.
He had never spoken directly to the girl, but he couldn't see the connection between what his own eyes were registering and his daughter's previous comments about the girl. I'm not sure you would like her, she's meek and timid – but pretty, I guess.
She looked at him with those defiant blue, Tully eyes – her gaze burning right down into his soul. Tywin did not see this timid girl Cersei had mentioned. Beautiful, yes, but not weak-willed it seemed.
She held his burrowing gaze, unafraid and refusing to back down – he witnessed her seething hatred as her hands visibly were shaking. It wasn't until Margaery Tyrell came walking along and took Sansa's arm that the Stark girl turned away, finding another path through the garden.
Damn those Tyrell's, always getting involved. If they had not taken an interest in trying to steal Sansa Stark from under him, he wouldn't be getting married to her. He could have enjoyed his final years ruling the kingdom through his grandson and focusing on a hobby like fishing – not trying to sire another son this late in his life.
He heard footsteps approaching and was forced to drift his thoughts and gaze away from the Stark girl.
"Lord Tywin, if I were you I wouldn't be standing too close to that window. With all the chaos you have caused of late you are lucky someone didn't try and push you out."
There she was, the Queen of Thorns as the lords and ladies called her. Tywin preferred Lady Olenna, it fit her station more appropriately. She would never be a queen of anything, especially not a queen of sharp remarks if he had anything to say about it.
"Lady Olenna, I suspect you have something you wished to speak to me about," he extended his hand out to offer her a seat in front of his desk, in which she obliged.
Tywin went to work on pouring them both a glass of wine, all the while listening. "Yes, I have come with a great my concerns, most of all your plans for the future. You are planning to wed Cersei to Loras without consulting me."
"I knew you would come to refute this match, so please, consult away. Though I will warn you, it's not going to persuade me." Under normal circumstances, he hated his authority to be questioned, but it had been so long since he had an intellectual spare with someone of his own caliber. He needed to keep his wits sharp for the days to come.
"Oh, my intention is to persuade you, because my grandson is the most eligible bachelor in all the seven kingdoms," Lady Olenna was already bristling at the idea of marrying off her grandson.
"And my daughter is the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms and eligible," Tywin countered. Cersei was older now, but still young enough to have a second family. Shipping her off to Highgarden would be a convenient way to alleviate brewing tensions between Margaery and his daughter.
"She's old, I'm somewhat of an expert on the subject. Her change will be upon her soon. You men may be able to stomach bloodshed, but this is another manner entirely." Tywin passed her a glass of wine and watched as she took the first sip. He knew all too well, the wine would only sharpen her tongue.
Tywin finally took his place across from the titan of the Tyrell family, with a nice glass of wine in hand. He was gearing up for a tough and dirty fight, he knew Lady Olenna would not back down easily from this union.
"The years punish us as well. The only thing that makes my stomach turn is the details of your grandson's nocturnal activities. A boy with his affliction should be grateful for the opportunity to marry one of the most beautiful women in the Seven Kingdoms and wipe that stain from his name."
"Oh, I don't deny it. A sword swallower through and through," Lady Olenna said it with such confidence, as if that was supposed to dissuade him from his beliefs that sex between men was a vile act. "Did you grow up with boy cousins, Lord Tywin? Soldiers, bannermen of your father's and you never…?"
What she was insinuating was repulsive and insulting – cold anger was swelling up in his chest as she looked at him with such conviction. He struggled to keep himself from snarling as he replied. "No."
"Not once," she asked, trying to keep an expression of innocence.
Gods, this woman was getting under his skin, a true thorn in his side. "No," he reiterated, making sure to leave no more room for a debate.
"Well, I applaud you then on your restraint, but it's a natural thing, two boys going at each other at a young age."
"Maybe Highgarden has a high tolerance for indecent behavior," he stated.
For the first time Olenna Tyrell smiled. "Well, we don't get tied up over a discrete amount of buggery, but brothers and sisters. Where I come from that strain would be very hard to remove."
Tywin glared at her, of course, he expected nothing less. He had made a shot at her grandson, and she wasn't afraid to use any piece of dirt she could find against him – even his disgraceful children's filthy rumors. "I will not breathe life into an unfounded lie," he replied, keeping his tone cold and even.
Olenna smiled again, she was trying her best to corner him, but there was no easy way to corner and defeat a lion. "Well, it's a lie convincing enough to put swords in boys hands and send them out to go kill Lannister and Tyrell soldiers, thanks to our new alliance."
"Well, if the rumors are true then Margaery would be no real queen. You would be throwing one of your prized flowers into the dirt," he retorted.
"And if Cersei is too old to give Loras children then we are throwing another prized flower into the dirt. It's a chance I simply cannot take." They both knew there was no easy way to enforce this union without the consent of both families. Olenna truly believed she was getting the upper hand.
"The uncertainty makes you uncomfortable. Well, let me remove it for you."
Long ago Tywin's old friend Aerys Targaryen had implemented one of the most destructive moves to Tywin's legacy – he had named Jaime, his eldest son, and heir, to the Kingsguard. Since that day he had been trying to find some way to get Jaime to leave and take up his family responsibility. He had never forgiven that transgression. It was an act that had led him to leave the service of the king and had ultimately ended in the Mad King's death.
He had learned from that harsh lesson, and it wasn't below him to inflict such damage on a family that was looking to grab at more power. He could hardly hold back a sharp smirk as he pulled out a piece of paper and his quill.
"If you refuse to marry Loras to Cersei, I will name him to the Kingsguard. He will not be able to marry or inherit lands." Tywin heard a sigh of annoyance from Lady Olenna, as he began drafting the writ.
"The Tyrell name will fade from history and Highgarden will go to the children of Joffrey and Margaery," he finally looked up to assess the distress he had inflicted.
Olenna had a cross expression, one he couldn't help but relish. She knew she had been outmaneuvered, but she was trying her best to recover. "You would have your grandson protected by someone you despise?"
If that was the best she could come up with he had grossly overestimated her, Ser Loras was just like Jaime, honor and fighting were strong fibers of their very being. "I will have my grandson protected by a capable warrior than takes his duty seriously. Should I sign the order, or do you consent to the match?"
She stared at him, aggravation flickering in her gaze. Lady Olenna stood up and took the quill from him and to his surprise she gave him a grandiose smirk as her eyes yielded in their aggression. The old rose had accepted the checkmate he had laid before her.
"It is a rare thing, a man that lives up to his reputation." She snapped his quill in half, and sat down again. This time a slyness gleamed in her eyes as she relaxed in her seat. "Tell me, is it true, do you plan to wed the Stark girl yourself? Are you sure you can keep up with such a young, vibrant soul at your age?"
Tywin once again felt like he was on the defensive, this time the questioning was going to be harder to dodge. It was about him specifically this time, and after her later comment, he was trying really hard to restrain himself. "Yes, you left me with no choice but to marry her, and of course I'm not concerned about keeping up with some girl, us lions always have energy," he replied. He refused for her to get the last words on his stamina.
"I left you with no choice? I don't know what you mean."
"Of course you do, no need to play coy. You had planned to wed Sansa to your grandson. You wanted to control the North yourself."
She awarded him with an empty smile. "I have no interest in Northmen and their ability to remember, but yes, it was a secret engagement. Loras and Sansa would have made a good match, a powerful and happy match. But you Lannisters do have spies everywhere, sometimes I'm nearly convinced the shrubberies can read my thoughts. Still, you could imagine my surprise when I heard the betrothal had passed from your son, Tyrion, to you."
"It was a necessary change," he replied. "Tyrion said he wasn't going to put a child in her."
Olenna held his gaze and gave him another fake smile. "I see, well I hope you find some happiness in this union, Lord Tywin. Sansa is a very proper lady, something I heard you once liked. She might be a bit ordinary, but she has potential."
Tywin knew Olenna was talking about his late wife comparing Joanna to Sansa was absurd. The chair felt his wrath as he clenched his knuckles into its arms to contain his annoyance as he spoke.
"I don't foresee happiness in this union. This marriage serves a singular purpose: creating an heir that will rule the North. Happiness has nothing to do with that goal. One of the reasons this union is taking place is because of what happened to her family, all the male Starks are dead. Their deaths can all be traced back to the Lannister family. Would you be able to forgive such an atrocity? I know I would not."
"No, I wouldn't be able to forgive that, and she's a northern. They never forget as they love to remind us," Olenna said honestly.
"But we women are stronger than you may think, since the beginning of time, we have been used as ways to heal the sores of war and strengthen families through unions. Sansa will never love you, but that doesn't mean you have to be enemies in your marriage. I doubt you want to worry about your wife plotting your demise?"
Tywin gave her a knowing glance. Of course, he didn't want to have to constantly be looking over his shoulder to see if his wife was about to stab him, but he couldn't see how that could be avoided. "I'm painfully aware of the situation, but there are few ways to remedy the damage and I don't have the time to spare trying to force obedience from her."
"I think you underestimate the girl, she has friends in odd places. If you make the first steps to healing the wound you might be surprised at what happens. I doubt she will forget what happened to her family, but with kindness behind closed doors, you can make her doubt what she has heard about you. You might get to a point of mediocre amity in your marriage."
With that Olenna stood up. "You Lannister men always try and use a brute-force way to deal with your problems, carrying around your sticks to force others into obedience. We Tyrells have realized you get more bees with honey than vinegar. You're a smart man Lord Tywin, you'll figure out how to deal with the girl."
Tywin Lannister couldn't believe his ears, Olenna Tyrell was giving him advice on how to manipulate a young girl. She was right: he would find a way to get the Stark girl to heel. He hadn't quite decided how he wanted to go about that action yet.
There were only two ways to get people to do what you needed in any arrangement, Tywin had learned this very young, you could either give someone an incentive, ultimately showing kindness, or you used fear.
He had always used stern if not outright deadly ways of dealing with people. He would wield his stick using fear to keep people in line. Maybe with women, it wasn't as successful, he had tried using this method on Cersei – his own daughter. It had not worked out as he anticipated, she was now a difficult woman to control and volatile on her best days as she lashed out at those who wronged her. Olenna's idea of using carrots instead of the stick might be more effective this time with Sansa. He couldn't afford to make the same mistake twice.
"She has a talent for needlework, you could always start there," that was all Lady Olenna said as she left his tower.
[A/N]: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter! I hoped you guys enjoyed the interactions between Tywin and Olenna, I tried to do the first part of their chat from memory, and I hope you enjoyed their chat about Sansa and their union. Please let me know what you thought of their interactions and if the story is being paced well. Thank you again for all the wonderful comments, you guys seriously are giving me the motivation to continue.
The next chapter is from Sansa's POV and will involve the wedding!