Au: Tywin Lannister marries Olenna Redwyne
The morning of her wedding came and she was roused by the timid hands of Rylene, whose thick blonde hair neatly braided and pinned up and wore a gauzy pale gold gown. Since her mother was not here, and neither was Tywin's, her maids would have to help her get ready for her wedding.
"Your sister is awake, my lady," Rhea informed her, smoothing the folds of her simple golden gown, her long curly brown hair bouncing behind her and she curtsied. "As is Lady Genna, who bid me to tell you she will come as soon as she's prepared."
Olenna was glad for the company of a woman close to her age, Rhea may have been six and ten, but she was much too sweet and womanly for her liking. Genna appeared to be a female version of her brother, and she had always been of the opinion that women were the more powerful sex. She had never met a man more capable of making hard decisions than herself, and her dearly departed mother. Men were too clouded by things like honor, and ego. They looked past the truth to satisfy those around them, and cling to their pride.
She was still contemplating the shortcomings of men when Genna arrived, let in by a sullen looking Leyla, whose long wispy ginger hair was held back in a coronet of flowers, the sleeves of her embroidered gold dress brushing the floor. Genna's long golden mane was brushed until it shone like (Lannister) gold, and her gown bordered on scandalous. The loud Lannister crimson dress draped over wide shoulders leaving the majority of back exposed. A long chain of rubies and emeralds wrapped twice around her throat before descending all the way down to her hips.
"Genna," She called her, not bothering with her courtesies. This woman seemed a woman much like herself; bold.
"Sister," returned Genna, smiling mischieviously. "I must say I quite adore you and your impropriety. No doubt Tywin shall be grey before he's thirty with you ruling Casterly Rock."
"No doubt he'll be bald by thirty-and-five," Olenna laughed, turning from her vanity mirror to really look at Genna.
Without asking, Genna set to work brushing her hair, ignoring the protests that it was a maid's work, not a ladies. Brushing out the tangles, Genna lamented over the lack of pomp at her own wedding. "It would have been beautiful, had old Walder Frey not invited every last Frey, near two thousand of them, filling the hall with their drunken laughter and poor attire."
Genna has long been married to Emmon Frey, the most unworthy match she's ever seen. Being the only daughter of a very rich, very powerful Lord should have guaranteed a wonderful (or at least advantageous) match to another powerful family. Emmon Frey was small and pale, with small watery eyes and a weak chin that gave him the appearance of a weasel. "The family disapproved of the match, of course, but what could I do? Father announced our betrothal in front of more than half the Westerlands in attendance. I can still here that bitch, Ellyn Tarbeck laughing," Genna paused to think, holding the brush indecisively in hand, before returning to her task. "The world would be a much better place if Ellyn Tarbeck just dropped dead."
Having never met Ellyn Tarbeck, Olenna hums non-commitedly. Genna smiles suddenly, reaching over her shoulder to set down the brush. "There," She exclaims, "Perfect. Now let me get one of your maids to fetch your dress.." As she turns to address Rylene, and nerves suddenly flutter in Olenna's stomach. She's known her fate since the age of six, but it doesn't stop the fear that creeps in.
She's never much thought about it, leaving home. Being without her family seems strange after basically running her household these past seven years. She won't have to suffer any more of Lyonel's useless lectures or deal with his moronic wife. There won't be any more chances to walk in on Desmond with a wench, and embarrass him. Beth won't wake her up every morning by leaping from the doorway onto her bed, and she won't get to sing to her anymore, or brush her hair at night. She often sent away her maid so she could brush Beth's hair herself. It was long, dark and surprisingly thick given how young she was, and Olenna could spend hours combing through it and telling her baby sister's stories about Jonquil, and knights, and the Dragons of Valyria. Throughout this, she is dimly aware of Rhea and Leyla slipping material over her head, and Rylene's nimble fingers adjusting her hair.
From her exasperate sigh, Olenna guesses she has apparently she missed Genna's dramatic unveiling of her appearance, and shakes her head to clear her thoughts. Bracing herself, like someone is about to knock her full tilt off a horse, she turns to examine the gown. Given the warm temperatures, hot for this time of year, the dress was made of a pale white, gauzy material. It was full length, with enough material that a narrow train trailed behind her when she walked. Across the bust and down over her torso, gleaming pearls had been carefully sewn into little starfish and dazzling sea shells. Her hair is left down – the right of any maiden – but a small coronet crafted of Lannister gold holds her long wavy hair back and out of her face. As her maiden's cloak is placed around her shoulders,a deep azure blue with that familiar cluster of grapes – a cloak made for her by one of her aunts, or a cousin to be sure.
Genna is still chatting, but Olenna hardly pays attention. "Listen to me, silly girl," gets her attention. I am not a silly girl, she wants to say. "Tywin may seem hard and fierce as all lions do. However, no matter how wild a lion may appear, deep down they are domesticated as easily as a common cat. Cats are cats no matter how large."
Olenna smiles. "Then I shall just have to dangle the string extra vigilantly, sister."
Genna's laughter rings down the corridor.