Part One (or unintended consequences)

Chapter One (or quick, but fulfilling)

September 19th, 1997 (or a day at high school)

Sansa

"Fuck Sansa! You've been in there for twenty minutes now!" her sister screamed and impatiently pounded on the bathroom door. Sansa had only been in there sixteen minutes, and her business was very important.

"Arya! No yelling in the house!" Sansa heard their mother yell from the kitchen. The sound of her voice was muffled by distance and the closed-door, and it was apparent she didn't see the irony in yelling that statement.

"I need to brush my teeth!" Arya screamed back and the pounding stopped for a moment. Sansa shook her head at the closed bathroom door as she prepared for the day. The candy apple green eye shadow she got at Walgreens was difficult to apply well as it clumped on her eyelids instead of smoothly covering her skin. Joffery said last week he liked the color green, and since they had been going steady now for almost four days, Sansa needed the time to properly apply her newly found beauty product. It couldn't be too thick, or she'd look like a slut or a clown, but it had to be noticeable enough to catch Joffery's attention.

"Sansa!" Arya shouted again as she resumed her pounding. Arya yelling wasn't peculiar, but Arya yelling at Sansa to get into the bathroom was. Arya never rushed to go to school, even if she did enjoy it once she got there. Now that Arya was a freshmen, their mother had decreed that the sisters walk to school together. 'Like when Arya was in first grade,' their mother told them, as if that would sweeten the deal for either of them. So, it didn't matter when Sansa finished, because Arya couldn't leave the house without her without incurring their mother's wrath.

"Just another minute!" Sansa replied as she looked at herself in the mirror and decided she had achieved a satisfying look classy and cute, not slutty, look to please Joffery.

The door handle began to click and Sansa, bewildered, turned to the door as it opened. "Arya!" Sansa exclaimed as her sister made her way through the door.

"You took too freaking long!" Arya explained as she shook her head in annoyance, grabbed her toothbrush from the holder, and applied a minty gob of paste to it.

"How did you get in!?" Sansa demanded as she stared at the door, which she had locked herself. There wasn't any damage to the frame, and all Arya was holding when she came in was one of Sansa's bobby pins, bent out of shape.

Arya had already began to brush her teeth. When she answered, since she had her toothbrush jammed in her mouth, it sound like Charlie Brown's teacher, "Whaa-wha-wh-wha."

"Gross," Sansa remarked as she looked at the foam drizzling down her sister's lips.

With a mighty spit, Arya cleared her mouth, and turned to her sister. "I said, there's always a way in if you try," she said as she put her toothbrush back and handed her sister the wrecked bobby pin, and quickly exited the room without rinsing.

How'd she pick the lock with a bobby pin? Where'd she learn that? I bet Jon taught her.

"Ugh," Sansa grunted, then closed the door behind Arya and examined herself in the mirror. Thankfully, Arya's intrusion didn't disturb her appearance, and she was still stunning. Besides the eye shadow, she also put on a light coat of lipstick, and took care to ensure that it wouldn't look clownish or slutty, and dusted on some blush to make her cheekbones pop. Sansa turned in the mirror and decided that her outfit for today was also a-maze-zing. Her new jean skirt, cut right below the knee, showed the perfect amount of leg, and her green v-neck top was so-o-o-o cute.

I hope he'll like this...I think he will...what if he doesn't?

As she shook her head in trying to rid herself of negative thoughts, Sansa made her way out of the bathroom, stopped at her room for her backpack, and went downstairs to a familiar scene in the household: Arya and their mother arguing.

"For real? You've got to kidding me! I'm fifteen years old for Christ's sake!"

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain young lady!" her mother lashed out in reprimand.

"It's just not fair! The high school is right down the street! I'm not going to get lost! I'm not going to skip! Why do I need a chaperone?!"

Sansa walked into the kitchen and saw the two woman warriors in combat; Arya stood with her backpack slung over her shoulder, her body filled with nervous and violent energy, and her mother calmly sat at the table, totally in control, and sipped on a coup of tea.

"Arya," her mother began as her blue eyes focused intently on her youngest daughter. "I just feel more comfortable if you and Sansa walk together for a while."

"How long is a while? I've been at school already for two weeks! I know it's walk five blocks and hang a right...nothing bad is going to happen!"

"Something might Arya, I just like knowing you're okay."

Sansa walked around her screaming sister to the kitchen cabinet and pulled out a granola bar to munch on before they left.

"Like knowing I'm okay?" Arya spat with bemusement, "like Sansa would help me out at all if I ran into any trouble."

"Hey!" Sansa interjected, offended that Arya thought she wasn't capable of protecting her little sister and was trying to drag her into this. She didn't like walking to school together anymore than she did.

"I'm walking down the street, I'm attacked by a bear, and as it rips into me, devouring my intestines, Sansa is totally gunna be useful," Arya barked, then narrowed her intense gray eyes at their mother. The disobedient rage that had always been present in her sister burned at their mother.

"Arya," her mother sighed with the same exasperated tone she always used with youngest daughter.

"Space aliens try to beam me for a through, and hopefully satisfying, probing, Sansa will totally save me."

"Arya!" her mother exclaimed, and Sansa just shook her head since she knew her sister wasn't done yet.

I don't think she'll ever really be done.

"A gang of cockney hoodlums accosts me and tries to give me the good ol' in and out... Sansa will just stand there telling them those are 'bad touches.'"

Her mother's head jolted at the last remark, the crassness pushing her too far. "Arya! That's enough! Now wait quietly until your sister is done with her breakfast or you'll be grounded for a week!"

Arya opened her mouth again to say something, but didn't, and as she closed her mouth it looked as though it caused her agony to not say anything else. The threat of being grounded was enough to quell the storm that was Arya Samantha Stark. "Ugh," she sighed, and stomped out of the kitchen towards the front door.

"She's unreasonable," Sansa groaned as she sat next to her mother.

"She's just upset," her mother sighed as she took a sip of tea. From her tone, Sansa knew there was much her mother wasn't telling her.

"Is it about Gendry?" Sansa asked as she continued to nibble on her granola bar.

"That isn't any of your concern," her mother sternly said. Sansa caught a glimpse of her stare out of the corner of her eye and knew it meant she should drop the subject. And her mother was right, it wasn't her concern, but she still noticed. She noticed her father had come home early from work yesterday and had a drink or two before dinner. She noticed her father tell her mother about Robert Baratheon. About him showing up to work and getting fired. About him abandoning his family, leaving Gendry and Eddie without a father, their mother without a husband. And she noticed Arya dart out of the house at eight at night and come back home far after curfew, looking flushed and elated.

I hate noticing all these things that aren't my concern.

"Okay, mom," Sansa mumbled and did not look her mother in the eye as she didn't want to draw more attention she had asked that she should not have. She shoved nearly half the granola bar in her mouth and grabbed her backpack. "I'm going to get going."

"Have a good day, sweetie," her mother chirped as Sansa walked away. Although she didn't want to endure Arya's bad mood this morning, she was interested to find out more gossip about the juicy Baratheon situation, which Arya must have known more about.

Her sister stood at the front door in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for her sister. "Ready?" she spat as Sansa approached the door.

"Let's go," Sansa answered as she motioned to the door and then slipped on some sandals. Arya took the cue and whipped the door open for them to exit.

It was a brisk fall day in Grafton, Wisconsin, as they made their way down the sidewalk. Sansa liked their neighborhood; each house looked like the last, many had small white fences in the front yard, some had doghouses in the back, and the Henderson's even had an above ground pool. It was small and quiet, everyone kept to themselves, and all the children well-behaved. Except for Arya, of course. It would be a perfect place to raise a family some day.

"Urgh," Arya moaned as they moved in stride. Although neither sister liked this arrangement, over the last week or two they had made small talk on their way to school. Arya complained about her math teacher, and Sansa could sympathize, as she remembered how terrible 'Old Man Pycelle' was in Algebra. Sansa didn't understand Arya's discomfort with Mr. Baelish though, who always seemed very pleasant to her.

I believe Arya's exact words were "he's a creepy little fuck."

This morning, although Arya seemed to have a lot on her mind, and it had seemed to pain her earlier to not speak up to their mother, Arya was silent as she trudged towards school. "What's wrong with you?" Sansa asked in trying to make conversation, and maybe find out more about Gendry.

"Nothing," Arya shrugged and quickened to a pace that Sansa could barely keep up with in her skirt and flip-flops.

"Then what's the rush?" Sansa grunted as she shuffled and tried to keep up with her sister.

"Nothing," Arya lied again and rolled her gray eyes at her sister. It was clear she was trying to get away from Sansa, which was expressly against their mother's wishes.

"Nothing? You sure?" Sansa prodded again.

"Just...shut up," Arya sighed, looked at her watch, and slowed her pace, as it appeared she had decided she wouldn't be able to escape Sansa's pursuit.

"Worried about being late? School doesn't start until eight and we have, like, fifteen minutes."

"What did I just ask you to do?" Arya curtly replied as she darted her head back and forth, searching for something. As they continued to walk, they joined more and more teenage students on a similar trek to the Grafton Area High School.

"Looking for Gendry?" Sansa asked. She knew he lived on the other side of the school, and that he would be walking down the street towards them if they were going to meet.

"No," Arya grunted as she clearly lied to Sansa, again, then paused for a moment to stand on her tip-toes, to get a better view. "Fucking people," she sighed.

"Don't swear, Mom hates it," Sansa reminded her sister.

"And if I had a nickel for all the fucks I don't give on mom's thoughts on my swearing."

Sansa just rolled her eyes at her vulgar sister and wished their dirty minded step-brother hadn't taught her that kind of language. "Do you see him?" Arya suddenly asked a moment later as she craned her neck as high as it could go.

"Who? Gendry?"

"Of course, Gendry," Arya growled at Sansa. Using her superior height she peeked around the crowds and didn't see the boy in question, and shook her head at Arya as they continued to walk.

"Fuck, where is he, he was supposed to be here already."

"What's the big deal? Don't you two have first period together?" Sansa asked.

"Yeah, we do..." Arya muttered before trailing off.

"So, you'll see him there," Sansa suggested.

"Yeah, yeah..." Arya said without a thought, as her mind was now up the sidewalk, in search for her 'best friend.'

"Okay, what's up?" Sansa stopped in her tracks, and placed her arm in front of Arya, which impeded her forward movement. Arya's head cocked towards her sister after being knocked out of her daze.

"What?"

"Last night Mom and Dad are whispering about Gendry's dad, you leave in the middle of the night to go see him, I assume, and now you're fanatically searching for him."

"Well," Arya sighed, "it's complicated."

"Did Mr. Baratheon leave?" Sansa flatly asked Arya to cut through the complication.

With a huge exhale, that seemed to release some of the built up pressure of what Arya had kept in, she finally told the truth. "Yeah, last night Robert left his family last night." It made sense - when Sansa came home from school, Dad was on his second scotch and soda. His best friend abandoning his family would be a cause for a drink or two.

And a fitting tribute to Robert Baratheon.

"Is he coming back?" Sansa followed up.

"No idea," Arya shrugged and tapped her foot on the concrete, clearly ready to resume their journey to school.

"Where's he going?" Sansa asked, and Arya again shrugged. It seemed as if she had already said everything she knew about what happened with Mr. Baratheon.

"So, how's Gendry handling it?"

"Fucking poorly! How else would he 'handle it?'" Arya yelled, which drew the attention of two boys as they walked around the stalled sisters. "I get there last night and Gendry is alone in his living room, fucking drinking, his mom at work, little Eddie's upstairs sleeping already, tired out from asking questions about when 'Daddy will be back.'"

"Ohh," Sansa uttered, unable to think of anything else to say, the gossip turning from juicy to heavy for her tastes.

"He said he'd meet me in front of school, or would start walking towards our house if I didn't get there early." She paused and fixed an intense gaze on Sansa. "Thank you very much for that, by the way."

"Well, I'm sorry," Sansa half-apologized, "don't blame me, Mom's the one with the crazy rule." She then moved her arm up, allowing Arya to rush past, and dart around some slower upperclassmen. Sansa had never seen Arya like this. Well, maybe she had, Arya had a tendency to obsess and be fanatic about things, but this was the first time Arya had ever acted this way about a boy.

I wasn't even sure Arya liked boys. Yesterday she was mumbling about swearing off men and becoming a crazy cat lady like Aunt Lysa.

Sansa scurried around slower pedestrians until she caught up to Arya, who had suddenly stopped. "What?" she asked her sister, but then looked up to see Gendry, tall with a head of thick black hair, quietly standing in front of the school.

"Does he look okay to you?" Arya asked Sansa, concern evident in her voice.

"Umm," Sansa began to stammer, "I dunno." Arya grunted at Sansa's lack of insight and began to walk forward towards Gendry. Sansa followed closely behind, curious about what Arya would do when she got to there.

They walked briskly for a couple of seconds until Arya sensed her sister's presence beside her. "What are you doing?" she stopped to ask.

"Going to school," Sansa poorly lied. The entrance to the school closest to her first class was in the opposite direction, and she knew that Arya would know that.

"Well, you go there," Arya flatly explained to Sansa like she was three years old, and pointed to the door Sansa usually went though.

"It's a free country, I want to use the main entrance today," Sansa shrugged as she saw no reason to follow her little sister's orders.

"Okay, fuck it," Arya snarled, then reached into her jean pocket and brought out a wad of bills. "Here is, ummm" she mumbled, counting the money quickly, "seven bucks, for you to use the side door."

Sansa tilted her head at the seriousness of the bribe. Bribes had become the norm between the sisters in making arrangements. Usually, they were pretty cheap with each other, trying to low ball any deal, and there was at least a minute of haggling. Seven dollars was hardly a fortune, but Arya looked as though she would give Sansa any amount of money to use the side door and not see her talk to Gendry.

"Why?" Sansa asked. She knew she was breaking a part of the bribe in essence, but she wanted more information.

"He's my...friend...and I want some privacy," Arya whispered under her breath, and everything suddenly became clear to Sansa.

"Are you into him?!" she excitedly asked and clapped her hands together lightly in glee and elicited looks from curious passersby.

"Shut up!" Arya countered.

"You are aren't you! I mean, I always thought there was something between you two. I mean, he's pretty cute."

Not cuter than Joffery, but he's cute in a dashing, dark-haired, stoic stranger kind of way.

"I said shut up! Don't say that!" Arya screamed again, Sansa clearly hitting a nerve.

"What, you don't think he's cute?" Sansa asked her sister, who looked puzzled by the question.

"I...I..." Arya stuttered, "that's not the point. Can you just..." and she held out the wad of money and pointed her head towards the school. Arya had never had such a loss for words. It was earth shattering to see her sister like this, flustered and awkward, and wanting so badly to go be with a boy.

"Fine," Sansa agreed, grabbed the wad of cash, and stalked away from her sister. Sansa turned her head back and saw Arya, who was practically skipping to Gendry, a boy who, no matter what Arya said, wasn't just a friend.

July 21st 2003 (or a few months before 'that Halloween')

Tyrion

The office of Lannister, Lannister, & Lannister was meant to inspire awe in incoming clients, and exude the strength and confidence of a mighty law firm. It had stood in the same towering red brick building for the last forty years and stood the test of time as the world shifted around it. To Tyrion's knowledge, the building across the street had been a bookstore, then a dentist's office, a chiropractor at some point, and was now vacant, and loomed empty against the might of Tywin Lannister.

Tywin Lannister, a skilled lawyer and a cunt of a father, had been the senior partner since his own father had retired over twenty years ago. Tyrion had never met his grandfather Tytos, but was told multiple times by Tywin that he had allowed the firm to go to ruin. Revenues were down, clients were leaving, and the firm's reputation was a disgrace to the entire family. It took Tywin ten years to rectify this. He took no prisoners, removed over two-thirds of the supposedly inept work force, and increased the case load of the firm two-fold. At the time he was only thirty years old, married with two eight-year-old twins, and was already the de facto ruler of the largest personal injury law firm in the state. The was no limit to what Tywin Lannister could do.

Of course, then I was born.

Tyrion had just finished a late lunch at a local Mediterranean restaurant down the street called Harren's Hall, a lovely place for an afternoon with a veritable smorgasbord of young University of Wisconsin – Madison coeds to view. Some came for lunch dates with their friends, others for the sweet Turkish coffee the establishment offered, and some delectable tarts even waited on Tyrion. One waitress in particular, with short brown hair, a wonderful frame, and an astonishing ass had caught Tyrion's eye several times.

She was certainly worth the over-priced gyros.

"You're late," the receptionist remarked as he wandered into the lobby; a lavish room filled with long red leather couches and glass coffee tables piled with magazines for clients to read while they waited.

"Are you keeping tabs on me..."

...I think this one is Wendy...

"Wendy?"

"Wanda," she corrected and Tyrion shrugged, not interested in her name. Tywin would probably fire her by the end of the week for some 'grave' error she committed.

"When you answered the phone you said 'good morning, Lannister, Lannister, and Lannister, this is Wanda, how can I help you?' and it was 12:04pm, which meant it was technically the afternoon!"

"Your twelve-thirty appointment has waited for about an hour," Wanda informed him and pointed to a single woman sitting in the lobby. She leered at Tyrion for a moment, her brown eyes filled with disappointment at the young junior partner's behavior.

"Thank you," Tyrion thanked...Wanda...as he strode away from the front desk to the waiting area. His future client, whose name he did not know and regretted not getting from Wanda, was certainly worth his time. She sat on a couch and nervously chewed on her thumbnail as she paged through People magazine. She was short, not much taller than five foot two inches, which was Tyrion's height - something he liked in a woman. It meant fewer people staring if they went into public together. "Hello, there," he greeted her, "My name is Tyrion Lannister."

"Hi, my name is Sandra, Sandra Smith," she introduced herself as she rose from the couch and shook Tyrion's hand.

"Why don't you follow me," he offered and gestured down the hall. As they walked, he twice looked over his shoulder to catch a fleeting glimpse of her and noticed a few strands of long black hair dangling front of her low cut black blouse. "Here we go," Tyrion said as he opened the door to his office for her and made sure to catch a view of her ass as she swayed past.

"So, Mrs. Smith," Tyrion began as he strolled around his large mahogany desk and she took a seat across from him. "I'm sorry to hear you're getting a divorce."

"I'm not," she sighed wryly, "it's two years overdue." Her eyes, dark and intense, locked with his for a moment, and he fought the urge to squirm from her intoxicating gaze.

"Well, it isn't that complicated of a process," Tyrion said as he pulled out some papers and a yellow legal pad from his desk. "While you were in reception, did you fill out this form?" he asked presenting her with a sheet of paper from his desk.

"No," she shook her head, which briefly moved her gaze off of him; his pulse quickened when she looked back at him.

"Well, let's start here," he said as he grabbed a pen. "Let's see, current legal name?"

"Sandra Olivia Smith."

"I assume Smith is your husband's last name. Will you be taking your maiden name after the divorce is finalized? "

"Yes, I'll be changing my name back to Dilara."

"Okay, good," he hummed, unable to hold any veneer of professionalism as his eyes spent every moment he didn't have to look at the form soaking up her body. Her figure was a perfect hourglass and her black skirt rose midway up her creamy thighs and his mind immediately imagined the matching black lingerie she must have been wearing. He continued to asked her questions, her address, her occupation, and other such boring nonsense, and transcribed everything she said, without actually listening to a word she spoke, unable to take his mind off her tantalizing body.

"Let's see," he said after he took the rest of her personal information, "do you have any children."

"Thank God no," she snorted.

Yes, thank God no.

"Well, that's good," Tyrion snickered, unable to hold back his excitement at his piece of knowledge.

"Is it now?" she asked as she cocked an eyebrow. Her pouty red lips pursed just so, and her gaze seemed to double in intensity.

"Well yes," Tyrion coolly replied. "The process is far more complicated if children are involved, both legally and emotionally. Without children, the process is vastly more simple."

"Quick and easy?" she asked.

"Quick, but fulfilling," he countered with a grin.

"Just the way I like it," she purred.

"Good," was all Tyrion could think to mutter, and they sat in silence for a moment. He had never meet a client like this, one that got under his skin so easily.

"What's first?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Probably throwing you on top of my desk.

"Sorry, what was that?" Tyrion asked since he had missed the question since he was lost in his own sticky and deviant thoughts.

"What's the first step? In my divorce."

"Oh, well, Sandra..."

"Please, call me Shae," she corrected him and shifted in her chair, uncrossing her legs as she did so.

"Okay, Shae," he stammered as the force of the universe demanded him to look down to get a peek, but he forced himself to look into her pretty eyes. He knew exactly what was next: they would discuss more of her case, file with the state - all the messy details of a divorce. But he couldn't think straight. So he stammered, "Umm, the first step is I file some paperwork with the state and get the ball rolling."

"And then?"

"And then, we'll meet again next week to discuss matters further."

"Really now?" she asked, seeing through part of his ruse. In fact, they could probably hammer out most of the details right now, but that wasn't going to sit well with Tyrion. He wanted to see her again, and again, and again. It all couldn't end right now.

"Yes, it's normal procedure. It will take some time for the state to get back to me. In the meantime, I'll contact your husband's lawyer, serve them some paperwork, and we'll get moving on that front as well."

Five minutes later Shae left his office after leaving Tyrion her husband's personal information so he could begin the paperwork. Tyrion was unable to tear his eyes away from her ass as she sauntered down the hallway. Never before had he looked forward to a 9:30am meeting before, but with her there, he was certainly willing to rise to the occasion.

3:46pm (or a little bit later)

It was difficult for Tyrion to concentrate after Shae left; all of her wonderful curves filled his every waking thought. He couldn't help but imagine swimming over her creamy thighs, grazing her smooth skin, indulging in everything that she offered. She was perfect in so many ways, her long black hair, her skin, her smile, her eyes, and her attitude. Nothing Tyrion said disgusted her, but it excited her. She not only seemed to indulge Tyrion's outright sexual advances, but enjoyed them.

Maybe that fantasy of fucking a client will finally come true.

So many women had came through his office. So many desperate and sexy women that Tyrion was ethically bound from touching. It had crossed his mind, but he knew he was only allowed to look but not touch. With Shae though, the idea of not touching her seemed to unreasonable. It didn't seem fair that he couldn't just have her.

As he sat in his chair and spun in a daze, the intercom in his phone buzzed, which knocked Tyrion out out of his happy stupor. "Hello?" he answered.

"Mr. Lannister would like to see you in his office," the voice said over the phone. He knew the voice, it was the voice of his father's senior assistant - senior because Tywin deigned it necessary to have three assistants.

Fuck me.

With a deep sigh, Tyrion grunted, "Yes, I'll be right there." He was tempted to lie, to say he was busy working a case, but that would only lead to a worse lecture in the future. His father calling him in had become an annoying reoccurring event for Tyrion and usually involved his father droning on about Tyrion's work load, and Tyrion valiantly trying not to make jokes about the phrase 'work load.'

Tyrion strutted out of his office and made his way down the hall, which was carpeted in red, and the walls were adorned with various awards the firm had accumulated over the years.

State Bar of Wisconsin: Attorney of the Year 1991 - Tywin Lannister

Madison Area Chamber of Commerce: Law Firm of the Year 1989 – Lannister, Lannister, & Lannister

Lions Club of the Greater Madison Area: Person of the Year 1987 - Tywin Lannister.

The National Asskissers of America: Wisconsin Branch award for douchebaggery and coercion of organizations to give a undeserving prick stupid awards – Tywin Lannister!

The worst part of walking down to his father's office was staring at the stupid trophies of Tywin's glory, the most disgusting of which was located in his office. His framed article from the Madison Times. "Law Firm Tarbeck and Rayne Declares Bankruptcy."

Which is of course silly for him to frame that in his office, like he had anything to do with it. Because if he did, not only would it be unseemly, whatever he did would probably be illegal. And of course my father had nothing to do with it.

Tyrion reached his father's large, wooden door. The door knob was coated in gold and the door bore a large gold name plate with bold red lettering, which seemed to glare at Tyrion.

Tywin Lannister, Esq.

The youngest Lannister reached for the door and began to turn the knob, but stopped midway, as if his hand was unwilling to finish the task.

Nope, can't do this sober.

He turned away from his father's door then looked down the hall. When he saw there was no one there, he walked into the bathroom across the hallway. The bathroom was garish: it was the one his father chose to shit in, so it had to be fit for man of his importance. The floor with gold and red tile, the sinks were shining white with golden fixtures attached to them.

They aren't really gold, just some cheap golden chrome. Tywin may love his gaudy ass bathroom, but he is also a cheap fuck.

The lavatory seemed empty and Tyrion ducked his head down to see under the three stalls in the large bathroom, to ensure he wasn't missing anyone. He walked to the handicap stall, which was furthest from the entrance, and closed the door behind him. He took a deep breath, reached into his pocket, and took out a small circular object made of green transparent plastic. It had seven flaps on the top, each marking a different day of the week, and Tyrion's finger grazed the top of each day as he looked at the contents of each compartment and contemplated his options.

Let's see...I don't want to get that fucked up...Xanex sounds good.

He flipped open the Thursday tab, grabbed two pills, and popped them into his mouth without a second thought. Just the feeling of the pills sliding down this throat eased his tension – he knew that even if they didn't kick in during the meeting, he could spend the next couple of hours in his office peacefully musing on Shae's inner thighs. Hopefully though he'd fell it immediately, because with his mind between her thighs, he could handle Tywin easily.

His father's office was large, as would be excepted, and was lined with bookshelves of large tomes on law, culture, and whatever else Tywin thought would look impressive. Between two of the shelves, in an ornate golden frame was a newspaper clipping. Tyrion couldn't help but look at it for a moment, and sighed in disgust as he walked past.

His father sat at his desk and did not look up from what he was reading. "Busy?" Tywin asked, noting Tyrion's delay in arrival.

"Yes," Tyrion flatly answered as he took a seat across from his father. They shared the same blond hair, but Tywin had began to bald. Tywin, with his slender frame, towered over people, which was at odds with Tyrion's squat frame.

"What did you want?" Tyrion asked and his father raised his index finer, indicating he was not ready for them to talk. Tyrion groaned under his breath and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.

"Don't do that," his father ordered without looking up, which elicited another groan from Tyrion. A few more seconds passed until Tywin finished his reading, or deemed it time to begin speaking to Tyrion. "I wanted to talk to you about your work load."

Do not laugh at the words 'work load.' You are a professional. You can do this.

"Do you have a problem with my load?" he asked his father and found himself unable to hid his grin at his double entendre.

"According to this," he said, nodding at the piece of paper he was reading when Tyrion entered, "you currently are working on only three cases."

"Too many strong marriages in the area," Tyrion shrugged.

"According to the records, you have rejected four cases this week." Tywin continued as he ran his finger across a line on the page.

"They weren't my type."

"They're are paying clients, that's your type." Tywin growled. "This is a personal injury law firm; the fact you are even handling family law is because I allow it."

"Well, thank you for that, Father. I'll work to increase my load," Tyrion said with a smile, and hoped that this simple exchange would suffice. "And if that is all, I think I'll be on my way," Tyrion said as he stood up and began to walk to the door.

"Sit down," Tywin ordered.

"Is there another problem?" Tyrion asked as he stopped moving, but refused to sit.

"My problem is with you Tyrion," he hissed at at his son. "It's with you wasting company time and money. It's with you acting in a manner that does not befit this law firm."

"That sounds like a matter for human resources. Maybe you should have Cersei give me a call," Tyrion suggested. He immediately regretted this, as the idea of talking to his sister was more repulsive than talking to his father.

"Maybe I will," Tywin responded in a veiled but futile threat to fire Tyrion.

"Maybe you should," he responded with a smug smile. They never spoke of it, but there was very much an understanding of Tyrion's employment. Although he barely brought in any money to the law firm, no big clients, no big cases, he was a very skilled lawyer who could go elsewhere. Tywin allowed him to practice family law so Tyrion didn't leave the firm. Of course, Tyrion didn't want to go anywhere else, because at any other law firm his family name wouldn't be on the door, and he would be excepted to act like an actual lawyer. So, they were again at an impasse.

"Don't tempt me," Tywin responded as his gaze sharpened on Tyrion.

"Why not? Would I really be missed? I could go somewhere else, where I'd be more appreciated."

"And what?" his father laughed, "actually work for a living?"

"Don't think I won't," Tyrion responded, as it was his turn to shoot an empty threat. He wouldn't, of course, as he enjoyed the comforts of his father's law firm, but that was his only recourse at the moment.

"No you won't," Tywin retorted. "The only way you'll leave this firm is when I fire you."

"Then call Cersei, I'm sure she'll want a part in destroying my contract."

"You need to take this seriously," Tywin said as he rose from his chair and walked around to his son. "Just because your name happens to be on the front door doesn't mean you can do as you please. I doesn't mean you can disrespect this law firm, and it doesn't mean you can make sexual advances on prospective clients."

"What?!" Tyrion exclaimed as he cocked an eyebrow.

"Wanda at the front desk told me you were leering at your newest client earlier today, and another employee told me you were ogling her on her way out."

"That's not what happened at all," Tyrion snorted, hiding his displeasure that his obsessive gaze was noticed.

"I put up with a lot Tyrion, but to act like that with a client is not acceptable," his father decreed as he walked back to his chair. "Your actions have consequences that impact the entire firm. Your indiscretions are not acceptable. Do you understand?"

Tyrion felt his blood being to boil, furious he had been noticed earlier, and that the Xanex had yet to sink in. Worst of all, he had lost to his father, again. To further the fight would be useless: his father was king of this castle, master of his domain, and it was pointless to argue with him. Submission, unfortunately, was the easiest way out.

"Of course," Tyrion grunted through his clenched jaw and mustered all the politeness he could to say, "It won't happen again. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Without looking up his father coldly answered, "No." Tyrion felt his hand clench and his gaze burned through his father, who no longer acknowledged his existence.

Is this the rest of my life? Taking orders from this prick?

With a quick turn, he walked out of the office. He passed a few people walking down the hallway on his way back to his office. Some stopped to say hello and make small talk, but Tyrion simply walked by them until he came to his office and slammed the door behind him.

In his office he paced like a lion in a cage, locked up for all to mock, its owner pocking and prodding whenever he pleased. It had always been like this and Tyrion had always taken it. There was always a snide comment here or there, but he allowed his father to treat him like like a child. He couldn't take this any more...he wouldn't take this anymore.

Tywin Lannister doesn't own me. He doesn't own shit.

With a sure stride he made his way back around his desk, and reached for a manila folder from earlier in the day. He looked at the document and punched nine numbers into his phone.

"Hello?" Shae answered through the phone line.

"Yes, hello, it's Tyrion Lannister," he said as he slowed his breathing in an attempt to calm himself, to sound cool and collected.

"Oh, hello there. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you were free tomorrow evening for dinner?"

"Dinner?"

"Yes, I find it useful to get to know my clients outside of the office, so we can further discuss your case." There was a pause as she thought, clearly not comfortable with this. She had every right to think so. It was highly unethical...fuck, even illegal...for an attorney and a client to meet romantically, which they both knew this was.

But I thinks she wants that. I think she craves it. I know I do.

"I guess so." she huskily sighed over the phone.

"Seven work for you?" Tyrion offered.

"Sure."

"Good, I already have your address, so I'll swing by your apartment at seven to pick you up."

"Sounds good."

"Yes, it is does, " Tyrion agreed, then hung up the phone as a satisfied smile crept across his face. He finally felt the Xanex creep into his system and calm his nerves, which removed the taint of his father from his mind and replaced it with vivid images of things to come.

AN:

The Lion's Club is a real thing – it was a wonderful pun I just had to use.

Arya has fun initials if you use the full name I gave her. Also the last name I gave Shae is a wonderfully deviant Easter egg if you want to go digging (super, duper, duper NSFW. Two dupers means how serious I am).

Again, Joffery isn't a Baratheon, or a Lannister, just an evil little fuck. Originally there was a scene with him in this chapter put I didn't like it. Don't worry though, you'll get 'Joffed Off' enough next chapter...speaking of which.

Next Time – we see a Lannister family dinner and Sansa faces a difficult choice with Joffery in Chapter Two (or I don't even open my eyes in the pool).